Because It Is My Blood (24 page)

I laughed. “You two had me fooled.”

She leaned in to my ear. “I mean, I like Win, but he isn’t really my type. You’re much more my type.”

“Oh!”

“Generally, yes. But specifically, I like your friend Scarlet. But Trinity’s so boring and Catholic. I can’t wait to be in college. Anyway, I was just trying to help the Charles Delacroix campaign. That Bertha Sinclair is a monster.”

At least I wasn’t passing my days at Liberty.

“She is, Annie. She’s going to let the water run out, and she’s in the pocket of all the big companies and she lets them pollute and not pay taxes, and she’s totally corrupt. Charles Delacroix isn’t perfect, but … he’s good.” She pointed across the room to Win, who was talking to an elderly woman. “He raised that, didn’t he?”

“I suppose.”

Alison started talking about college because apparently there was nothing else in the world worth talking about. She had gotten into Yale early admission and was planning to study political science and environmental engineering. I felt the same seething jealousy as I had with Chai—yes, that’s what it was—rise up in me. I had to excuse myself again.

I was tired of hearing about all my classmates’ plans for next year. I thought about going up to Win’s room to lie down but when I got there I found it in use. The same with Win’s parents’ bedroom—gross. I went back downstairs. I knew that Win’s father’s office was supposedly off-limits. But I also knew that Charles Delacroix was out for the night, so that’s where I decided to go. I removed the gold cord that had been tied around the door handles and let myself in.

I sat down on one of the leather couches. And then I took off my shoes and lay down. I had just about dozed off when someone came in.

“Anya Balanchine,” Charles Delacroix said. “So we meet again.”

I struggled to sit up. “Sir.”

He was wearing a red plaid flannel bathrobe, and he had, indeed, grown a beard. The combination made him look a bit like a homeless person. I wondered if he was going to throw me out of his office, but he didn’t.

“My wife insisted on throwing this blasted party,” Charles Delacroix said. “Now that I am unemployed, my opinions carry less weight than I would like. It is my hope that this infernal affair doesn’t last long.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s a birthday party. It’s only one night.”

“True. Little things do seem to weigh more heavily on me these days,” Charles Delacroix admitted. “Look what a wonderful time you appear to be having.”

“I like having your son to myself.”

“That’s the reason you broke into my office?”

“Moving a cord is not breaking in!”

“You would think that. You’ve always had—how to put this?—a flexible attitude toward the law.” I was reasonably sure that Charles Delacroix was teasing me.

I told him the truth—that I was tired of hearing my peers talk about their plans for next year. “You see, I am plan-less, Mr. Delacroix. And you must admit that you had some part in my current situation.”

Charles Delacroix shrugged. “A resourceful girl like you? I bet you have a move or two up your sleeve. Avenging your brother’s death and such. Taking the reins of your chocolate empire from the incompetents who currently run it.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Come now. Did I hit upon a sore subject?”

“You owe me an apology, Mr. Delacroix.”

“Yes, I suppose I do,” he said. “These months since we last saw each other have undoubtedly been worse for you than for me. But you are very young, and you’ll recover. I’m old, or at least middle-aged, and the scent of failure clings longer to people in my time of life. And despite my machinations—and mind you, it was never anything against you—you and Win are still together. You’ve won, Anya. I’ve lost. Congratulations.”

Charles Delacroix sounded bitter and hopeless, and I told him so.

“How can I be anything but? You met my successor. How did your release go down? Were you required to grease the wheels or did she just take her pleasure from humiliating me one last time?”

I admitted that wheels had been greased. “Do you know what she said about you?” I asked.

“Only awful things, I suppose.”

“No. She said that her campaign kept hitting the story of Win and me because of how much it bothered you. The voters, she thought, cared much less about the matter than you did.”

Charles Delacroix was silent for a while. He furrowed his brow and then he laughed. “Possibly. It’s a good lesson come too late. So, where were you all these months anyway? Somewhere that was good for you, I see.”

I told him I couldn’t tell him that. “Someday you might use it against me.”

“Anya Balanchine, we have always been candid with each other. Don’t you know that I am nothing but a declawed tiger now?”

“For now, you are. But even a declawed tiger still has teeth, and I’m not counting you out yet.”

“That’s very kind of you,” he said. “Aren’t you angry at me for throwing you back in Liberty? Or have you just buried your anger deep inside the caverns of that ludicrously girlish heart of yours and one night I’ll go to bed and there’ll be a horse’s head in it?”

“I like your wife and son too much for that,” I said. “I have a long list of enemies, Mr. Delacroix. You’re certainly on it, but you’re nowhere near the top.” I paused. “You know everything: What do you know about Sophia Bitter?”

Charles Delacroix furrowed his brow. “Your cousin Mickey’s newish wife.” He shook his head. “German, I think?”

“And Mexican.” I asked him if there was any chance she was on his list of suspects for the Fretoxin poisonings.

“No. We suspected it happened at the manufacturing level, that it was someone outside the United States, but I wasn’t able to allocate the resources to investigate beyond New York let alone outside the country. And then your cousin so conveniently confessed.” Charles Delacroix rolled his eyes.

“You knew it was a lie?”

“Of course, Anya. But, for a variety of reasons, it was worth it to me to be able to close the books on the poisoning. Also, it gave me an excellent excuse to put away Jakov for a long period of time. He did shoot my son, I’m sure you’ll recall.”

I did.

“I’m sentimental, what can I say?” Charles Delacroix poured himself a drink. He offered me one, but I declined. “So, Sophia Bitter. I take it you think she arranged the poisoning. Seems like a reasonable enough guess. Her foreign interests coupled with excellent access to your family’s business by way of her, at the time, fiancé.”

I paused. “I think she killed my brother and tried to kill my sister and me, too.”

Charles Delacroix took a good, long swig, and then poured himself another drink. He considered me for a moment. “When we’re young we think everything has to be wrapped up in a month. But you should take the long view on this one. Before you make a move, be sure, Anya. And even once you’re sure, tread carefully. And remember you don’t have to do what they expect you to do.”

But that was the problem. It was impossible to be sure. “How can I be sure? I’m surrounded by liars and criminals.”

“Ah, that is a dilemma. If I were you, I’d put the question to Sophia Bitter directly. See what she says.”

Seemed like good enough advice. “I like you better when you’re not plotting against me.”

At that moment, Win opened the door. “Dad.” He nodded toward his father. “Annie,” he complained, “I haven’t seen you the whole night!”

“Anya,” Charles Delacroix called as I was leaving, “come visit me again sometime.”

Win grabbed my hand, and we went back out to the party. “What was
that
about?” he asked.

I kissed him, and he seemed to forget the question. “Isn’t it nice that we can do that whenever we want in front of whoever?”

“You are a very strange girl,” Win said.

Not long after, Scarlet, Natty, Daisy Gogol, and I took our leave. We were halfway down Win’s street and a third of the way to the bus stop when a dark figure emerged from an alleyway.

“Scarlet! Scarlet!” A voice called.

Natty screamed, and Daisy Gogol got into a squatting position that I assumed had something to do with her Krav Maga training. Suddenly, she sprung up and had her arm around the figure’s neck.

“What the Hell is this?” the figure said. I’d know that entitled voice anywhere. Gable Arsley.

“Oh, Gable, honestly. Just go away!” Scarlet said. “Why are you even here?”

“The guy at the door wouldn’t let me into Win’s stupid party. Like I’m so awful. Win’s father did things a million times worse than anything I ever did, and he’s in there. Can’t bygones be bygones?” Arsley tried to free himself but Daisy Gogol was stronger. “Seriously, Anya, tell your beast to let me go.”

Daisy Gogol looked at me. I shook my head. It was fine to let Gable Arsley struggle a little longer.

“That’s rude, Arsley. Just because Daisy’s stronger than you doesn’t make her a beast,” Natty said.

“Shut up, mini-Anya,” Arsley said. “Seriously, Scarlet, I need to talk to you. Can’t we please go somewhere?”

Daisy Gogol released Arsley as it had become all too obvious that we knew him.

Scarlet shook her head. “We can talk at school, Gable.”

“Please! Give me one minute alone. One minute without your bloody entourage. I’m desperate here. I’m going to do something crazy!”

“Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of them,” Scarlet said.

Gable looked from me to Natty to Daisy Gogol. “Fine. If that’s the way it has to be. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. You have no idea how sorry. I wish I’d never taken those stupid pictures. I wish I could go back in time and do everything over again because I’m such an idiot.”

“That’s true,” I added.

Gable ignored me. “But if I had to be poisoned and lose my foot just so I could meet you for real and fall in love with you, I’d do that again. You’re perfect, Scarlet. You’re freaking perfect. I’m awful. I do horrible things. I’m mean-spirited and vile.”

“Also, true,” I said. But no one was paying attention to me.

“Please, Scarlet, you have to forgive me. You have to let me in. You have to let me help raise our baby. You have to. I’ll die if you don’t let me.”

I could not believe that this was Gable Arsley. He sounded like a girl.
(NB: By saying this, I meant no offense to girls—I counted myself among their number, after all.)
I very much wanted to look away from this pas de deux but I couldn’t.

Gable was getting down on one knee. It was an awkward maneuver because of his prosthetic foot. Scarlet inhaled sharply. “Get off the ground, Gable,” Scarlet ordered.

He ignored her. He began to reach into his pocket, and I knew what was going to happen. “Scarlet Barber, will you marry me?” The ring was silver and looked like a piece of twine tied into a bow.

I wanted to say,
She will not. Of course she will not.
But I didn’t say anything.

“Last time, you said I couldn’t be serious because I didn’t bring a ring. This time, I came prepared,” Gable continued.

Scarlet exhaled loudly. “Gable, go away. This isn’t funny or romantic. It’s just”—she paused—“sad. I can’t love you ever again.”

“But why can’t you?” he whined.

“Because you really are awful. I thought you had changed but I was wrong. People like you can’t change. You were awful before the poisoning and you’re still awful. You sold pictures of my best friend—”

“But that wasn’t you!” Gable insisted. “That was
her
! I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

Scarlet shook her head. “Annie is me. Don’t you know that? Please, Gable, just go. It’s nearly eleven and I don’t want to be out past city curfew.”

Gable moved to take Scarlet’s hand, but Daisy Gogol wedged herself between them. “You heard the lady,” Daisy said, and then she growled at him like a bear.

*   *   *

On the bus, Scarlet and I were sharing a two-person row, and Daisy and Natty sat a couple of rows behind us. I had thought that Scarlet was sleeping as she had her head leaned against the window and hadn’t said anything the entire trip. Three stops from my apartment, I heard a series of sniffles.

“Scarlet, what is it?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “Hormones maybe. Ignore me.” I had a handkerchief in my bag so I gave it to her. She blew her nose for half a city block. She paused and then she did it again. “I am so gross,” she said. I told her she wasn’t but I could tell she wasn’t listening to me. “Oh Annie, what am I going to do?”

“About what?” I asked.

“I haven’t wanted to bother you with any of it, because obviously, you have problems of your own. But everything is a complete disaster!”

The disaster of my best friend’s life broke down in the following way:

  1. Her parents were Catholic so there had been no question about her keeping the baby, but Scarlet wasn’t even sure she wanted a baby.

  2. Her parents were saying they didn’t want to pay for college (“And certainly not drama school!”) now that Scarlet had tarnished herself so.

  3. Her mother really wanted her to marry Arsley and was threatening to throw her out of the house if she didn’t.

  4. Drama club wasn’t going to let her be in the photo. (“After everything I’ve done for them!” she said indignantly.)

  5. If Scarlet didn’t give birth before graduation, Holy Trinity was saying they weren’t going to let her walk at commencement.

  6. Arsley was harassing her constantly about getting back with him and she feared that he was wearing her down.

Here, Scarlet sighed.

I was trying not to be selfish, to think of things from Scarlet’s point of view. I suggested that maybe she should get back with Arsley, if she still liked him.

“Annie, I loathe him! I honestly don’t know what I was thinking.” She paused. “I’m starting to believe that I really am the stupidest girl in the world.”

“Scarlet, don’t say that!”

“It’s true. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and I’m so puffy and disgusting I have to turn away. I think, ‘Scarlet Barber, you have done nothing but make horrible mistakes for the past year.’”

I told her that I had had the same thought about myself not that long ago.