Page 102 of Tony

She puts her hands on her hips. “Seriously, Tony? You don’t draw any conclusions. You just… drift.” She puts up both hands. “Let me explain this in terms you can understand, m’kay? You’re like a sailboat without sails. Just drifting in this big, wide-open sea of… of everything!”

“Sea of everything?”

“Yeah. You come here under the pretense of looking for information for your brother about…whatever the hell. Your secrets, or smuggling, whatever. Doesn’t matter. You know why it doesn’t matter?” She doesn’t wait for me to come up with an answer. Just keeps talking. “Because that’s not why you came here. You came here for Belinda.”

“Soshee. I already told you. I don’t—”

“Have feelings for her. I know. I heard you. But I don’t believe you. It’s a lie, Tony. You are so very clearly having feelings about her even I can see that.”

I just blink my eyes at her for a moment. “Are we… having a fight about Rosalinda?”

She makes a face at me. “Do you really need me to tell you that?”

“Is that a yes?”

“You are having such a man moment right now, I can’t even believe it.” She rolls her eyes and starts walking down the stairs again.

“Wait,” I call, hopping down the stairs after her. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Just tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll answer as truthfully as I can.”

She throws the door open to the bustling coffee shop and then turns to face me before she enters. “I’m not looking for anything, Tony. It’s you. You’re the one looking for something. I’m not sure what that is exactly. But I’m fairly certain it has something to do with forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?” I actually laugh. “From who?”

“From Belinda Baker, you thick idiot!”

And then the entire coffee shop—which was loud with the hum of several dozen simultaneous conversations just one second earlier—goes almost quiet. And who do I see at the cream and sugar station less ten feet away from where Soshee and I are standing?

That’s right. Vann and Belinda.

“Well, that’s perfect,” Soshee coos at them. “Just the people we were looking for.”

“Um…” Belinda says, looking at Vann for help.

“Can we help you two with something?” Vann asks.

“No,” I say.

But Soshee says, “Yes, Vann. You can. You see, Tony here has traveled a long way to say something to Belinda there. Haven’t you, Tony?”

“Uh… what?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Belinda says. “Just go away, Tony. Come on, Vann. Let’s go.”

She grabs his arm and starts to walk away, assuming he will follow. But Vann Vaughn does not move one inch and she kinda bounces back into place. “Hold up there, toots.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, cocking my head. “Did you just call her toots?”

“Shut up, Tony. You don’t get to have an opinion about me and my life. You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

“As if I even want to have an opinion—”

A shrill whistle cuts through my remaining words and once again, the entire coffee shop goes quiet and everyone looks at Soshee.

“Hey, kids,” the dark-haired woman who runs the counter calls across the room. “How about you take this convo somewhere else? Hmm? We’re all having a nice Sunday morning here.”

“Great idea,” Soshee calls back. “Let’s go.” She snaps her fingers at Vann, Belinda, and me in quick succession, then points to the stairs we just came down. “Upstairs. All of you. We have a messy situation here that needs to be settled. So. We’re going to go up to my apartment and settle it.”

Belinda plants her hands on her hips and taps the toe of her shoe on the tiled floor. “I’m not going up there.”