Since my flight out wasn't until Monday night, I called Leo on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday morning to check if she'd heard from Dr. Gelman. She hadn't.
The flight back was business class as well, but I was a lot more subdued on the way home. I was the only one, it seemed. In the airport and on the plane, everyone was buzzing with the news of Samson King's tragic demise in a fiery car crash. His burned remains had been found outside Prague in a Ferrari that had been wrapped around a tree. Speculation was that he was still partying after the wrap of Hard Knock Strife. I would have been more amazed that the Brotherhood had been able to produce a corpse if I hadn't known that they, or some of them anyway, were dealing in demons.
I was thankful that no photos of Samson and me were rerun in light of his death. My name or past association wasn't mentioned either. The Executive had a long reach. It was a chilling reminder of what I was up against and made me wonder if the reason they'd sent the gogota after me was as much about me putting myself in the public eye without their approval as meeting with Gelman.
I spent the flight back staring at my personal entertainment screen, watching movie after movie with no real memory of any plot. The one thing that did pierce the haze of my brain was yet another story on some entertainment show about Samson's demise. Poppy was interviewed, the grief stricken co-star in elegant black, off to Ireland to shoot a new picture. When asked about rumors of her getting cozy with Rohan, she gave a coy smile and said they were just friends.
That meant Rohan was back in Rasha mode and done with her. I couldn't muster up enough energy to care.
With the time difference going back to Canada, I landed in Vancouver late Monday night local time. A week and a half and a lifetime since I'd left. The chapter house was silent when I entered. I left my suitcase in the foyer and climbed the stairs. Baruch's door was open, so I knocked softly. "Tree Trunk, you up?"
I tiptoed inside, listening for any sound of deep, even breathing, until I remembered with a pang that he'd gone back to Jerusalem. I pushed his door open to make sure, taking in the empty hangers in his closet. Feeling like a hole was punched inside me, I sank onto his bed, crying. Big gulping sobs, my face pressed into my hands. The harder I tried to keep quiet, to stuff this sloppiness back inside, the more I shook.
"There's no crying in Rashaland." Kane sat down beside me, yawning, and pulled me into his chest.
"Long trip?"
"Yes," I wailed.
"He'll be back. Baruch wants me. Seriously, there's no other reason for how often he flies out here."
I laughed through my sobs, knowing it was Ms. Clara that kept Tree Trunk coming back. And on his toes.
"That's better." He brushed away my tears. "Let's get you to bed." He waited until he'd tucked me in, airplane clothes and all, and kissed my forehead to ask, "Any idea where your wayward twin is?"
"He's at home." With Samson out of the way and any immediate danger to Ari gone, he'd left our cousin's apartment. I was sure he had his reasons for still avoiding Kane but if I learned it was so he could chase demons without a babysitter, he was toast. I'd find out when I spoke to him in the morning.
"Uh-huh." With a huff, Kane went back to bed.
I lay in the dark listening to the clock tick. Baruch gone. Rohan gone. The Brotherhood playing a waiting game for reasons unknown. I turned over, my fingers brushing something furry in the darkness.
Sebastian. I clutched my battered black panther stuffie to my chest. Ari must have brought him over while I'd been gone. I cuddled the toy, sorry that I'd ever forgotten about him. He'd languished in a closet the past couple of years, but growing up I'd slept with him every night.
A tiny ray of hope cracked through the sorrow tightening my chest. Maybe Dr. Gelman would phone tomorrow. Maybe, finally, I'd have my brother fighting by my side. It wasn't much, but I clung to it for all it was worth.
I got to Leo's the next morning a half hour before the hoped-for 11AM phone call. My friend took one look at me and poured a giant cup of milky sweet coffee, pressing it into my hand.
I pulled her into a hug. "I'm so happy to see you." I'd been a giant idiot letting our friendship slide.
"Pffft. You're just a slut for the many services I provide." She pushed her straight red hair off of her shoulder, busy hopping around the living room gathering up all her funky silver jewelry to put on.
Sinking onto the sofa beneath the colorful print of Warhol's flowers, I waggled my eyebrows at her. "Are we broadening our friendship boundaries?"