Chapter Ten - Conrad
Any time you show someone that they can get the upper hand on you, guess what they’re going to do? You got it. It’s not just in business, either. You can’t afford to let people score a point without getting one back. Now Maya knows it. I know she’s down there right now, squirming, wishing that I were all over her. Don’t get me wrong, it would be nice. Even the kiss was intense. But I’m in charge here and she needs to remember that. I can’t let anyone else run the laboratory.
I turn off the light and sleep like a baby.
In the morning, I go back down to check on her. She didn’t call 911 or run through the room shrieking, so she must not have felt like a captive. When I step out of the elevator into her room, though, I’m surprised to see that she’s sitting at a table, writing in a notebook. She looks up and nods. “Conrad, I trust you slept well?”
Is this a joke? Why is she suddenly talking like a British governess?
“Yeah, I slept fine. And you?”
“Not so good,” she says. “Not that it’s your problem.”
“Yeah, well. Sometimes the world is mysterious. So listen, I need to do something different today. We’re getting out of here for a while. If you can swing it, it’s going to take about two weeks. Part of the project.”
She nods again. “What do I need?”
“You’ll tell me. For now, bring your bag. Once we’re there I’ll get you sorted out. Oh, do you have any problems with flying?”
30 minutes later we’re on top of the building. We board the helicopter and Maya grips my knee as Mike takes us up into the sky. She’s not scared, but she isn’t comfortable. Good. Comfort leads to complacency. Mike takes us 15 minutes outside of town, up into the mountains. I have him land at the helipad near the cabin where we’re going to spend the next few days.
“Do I even need to ask if this is yours?” she says.
“Only if the muse moves you,” I say, taking my bag out of the helicopter.
“What are we doing here?” she says.
“Research. More research.”
“Like last night?” she says. I hear the mixture of hope and irritation in her voice. Perfect. Let her keep smoldering. It’ll be more fun when she finally blows her top. So far everything is going according to plan.
“We’ll see,” I say. We go inside and set our stuff down in the foyer. The cabin belonged to my father. Lots of people say they need a way to “get away from it all,” but dad meant it. He proved it. This cabin traverses the boundary between isolation and solitude.
“It’s gorgeous,” says Maya. “How long are we going to be here?”
“Two weeks, if I’m right about certain things. But how long can you afford to be here?” I say. “We might be hiding out for a while. That wild cop is still out there looking for me, you know. I need to lay low.”
Maya rolls her eyes. “Conrad, seriously. What are we doing here? Can we just talk like adults for a few sentences? Without riddles?”
“Yes. Yes, we can. We really are here to do some research, Maya. That doesn’t mean it’s all going to be doom and gloom, or fun and games. There will probably be some of both.” I thought about how it had felt when she reached into my pants. “But right now I want to take a quick nap. I’ll explain some things to you later. Your bedroom is to the right at the top of the stairs. If you want to go for a walk or sit outside there’s a pond in back. It’s impossible to miss. Before we start working tonight, there’s something I need you to think about for me.”
“And what might that be?”
“I need you to think about whether someone can actually learn to become a good person.”
That catches her off guard. She’s always prepared to respond to something flippant with something brassy. She’s not as good at handling sincerity. When people are off balance, that’s when you really need to watch them.
Before she can say more I go to my room and lie down. I got plenty of sleep last night, but something about her takes it out of me. In a good way. But when I get in bed my eyes won’t shut. I think about the first time I saw her. She has no idea that she was there when a piece of the old me died.
I’ve spent so many nights in this room. I miss my dad. I can admit it. We understood each other. When you have as much as I do, the ability to make small talk with people disappears. It’s tough to know what people want from you, but they all want something. So many people act as if we’re great pals, but in the end, they always ask for something. It sounds like such a cliché, but is it so wrong that I want to know that someone wants me because I’m me, and not because of what I have?
Well, Maya wants something I have. More than one thing, in fact. That’s not a bad thing. She’s here because she’s curious. She’s here because she’s part of my story. She doesn’t even know.
But she will. Tonight, she will. And it’s going to feel good to get a few things off my chest.