“Talk?” He repeated the word as if it were some alien tongue he was hearing for the first time.
“Yes, Ken. Talk. You and me, we sit down and have a chat.”
I saw the realization set in on his disappointed face. He sat on the bed and slouched his shoulders.
I set the chair back down. “Good boy.” I crawled onto the bed, put my arm around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, Ken.”
A Ken with a completely different expression turned to face me. “Good morning, Bonita. What did you want to talk about?”
I thought his calm demeanor might have been a trap, so I kept up my guard. “I’ve made my decision,” I said.
His eyes widened. He dropped his jaw and took both my hands in his. “Really, Bonita? Really?”
It took me a second to realize that he had completely misunderstood what I was trying to say. “No, no, Ken. I don’t mean a decision about”—I motioned back and forth to him and me—“I thought that was clear. I don’t want to choose any one of you.”
Again he looked dejected, but the expression came and went in a flash. “Then what decision are you talking about?”
“I’ve decided I have to go to the house across the forest. I have to make things right.”
He stood from the bed and took a step towards the door. “Bonita, Sasha said to let it go. That’s what we should do.”
I stood. “Of course, Sasha said to let it go because she doesn’t want me to feel bad about what happened.” I raised my voice. “But I do feel bad. And I’m not going to let it end there.”
I rushed over to him. “Are you with me, Ken?”
He looked over his shoulder at the closed door to the Polar Trinity. “It’s just that we decided—”
“Who’s we?”
“The team.”
“Great.”
“We decided it has to end. The spying and the striking, I mean. We have enough to make a film about them. But we can’t break-in. We already put a microphone in one of their coats. What do you think they’ll do when they find it?”
I was too upset to answer, too upset to think straight. I shook my head and stormed off into the bathroom. A cool bath might help me calm down.
I was so angry with them. Behind my back, they’d made a pact! We always did things openly, together. But this time, they’d left me out of the loop. They’d left me with no say in the matter. And all for my own protection! God, how I fucking hate protection!
I tried to talk some sense into Noah but with the same result.
Whatever. I was going to get those photos from them even if I had to do it all by myself.
At dinner, I excused myself, saying I was not feeling well—which was not a complete lie. The nausea and dizziness were back, though not as strong. But I didn’t go lie down. No, I walked straight out the front door.
I filled my pockets with pebbles from the gravel driveway. Since I didn’t have exactly the best sense of direction, I planned to leave a trail so that I could find my way back.
I walked through the forest slowly. It was only a bit past ten, and I wanted to arrive when the chances of finding them sleeping were the best: two or three in the morning, ideally. I stopped to rest frequently. I wasn’t sick, not like the night before. But I wasn’t feeling at my best.
I didn’t have much of a plan: sneak in, snoop around. I’d seen the camera, so I knew what I was looking for. Beyond that, I was just hoping to get lucky.
When finally the house came into view, butterflies started competing with the nausea for dominion over my stomach. I ignored them both. I’d come too far to get cold feet.
I approached the house from the back.
When I was within a few yards of the back door, flood lights startled and blinded me. I must have triggered a motion sensor.
“Well, well, well.”
I recognized the voice: one of the dinner guests who claimed his name was Steven and claimed he was from Oklahoma though he spoke with a New York accent.
“It’s our friendly neighbor, Bonita.”
I put my arm over my eyes to shield them from the flood lights beaming down on me. I could make out Steven’s silhouette in the shadows. He was not alone.
“What a strange time to be out for a stroll.” He spoke slowly and with an eerie calmness. “Are you lost? Sasha Snow’s residence is on the other side of the forest.”
Fight or flight? I chose bargain.
“You have something that doesn’t belong to you,” I said. “I’ve come to get it back.”
“What could you possibly be talking about?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We are simple retirees from Oklahoma.”