2. A familiar comfort

I thought I told you never to come back to this town again.

Claire wakes up on Seth’s couch, the February sun slamming through the living room windows. It’s well past ten. Seth has gotten up already and left for work. Harriet left around three last night to go home. On the coffee table, a piece of paper with a name and a phone number written on it.

Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Claire screamed at Seth.

What was I supposed to do? How the hell was I gonna tell you that your ex-boyfriend was climbing his way up the Asian crime syndicate’s ladder of success? was his reply.

Claire sits up, her neck sore from a bad night’s sleep. She reaches over to the coffee table and picks up a clipping from the Chronicle, dated November of the previous year. The headline reads: CRIME BOSS VINCENT FONG RELEASED ON BAIL. Underneath, a picture of the alleged Asian mob boss walking in a throng of bodyguards and reporters. One of the men sticking close to Fong is Garrett. Well-groomed and well-dressed, just like she remembered him. But he looks like he’s aged ten years, even though she hasn’t seen him in three.

She stands up, stretches, and lets out a yawn. She looks at her feet. Seth’s cat, sitting on its haunches, looks up with curious eyes at the tired stranger. He offers a soft meow.

“What’s it you want, you cute little thing?” she asks. “Food or a cigarette?”

The cat sits silently, looking at her with big green eyes. It blinks.

She runs a hand through her tangled hair. “Yeah, you’re right,” she says. “A cigarette does sound good. Unfortunately for us, I don’t have any.”

Claire makes a cup of tea, and steals a bagel from Seth’s pantry. She isn’t very hungry, but forces it down. As she sits at Seth’s round dining table, the scene plays over in her head. The scene that she witnessed the night before and that troubled her sleep.

She watched Garrett and two other men enter Lucky Chu’s and walk directly over to the table where the three Caucasians sat. One of them got up from the table, fear pulsing through his veins and pouring from his eyes.

Garrett, at the head of the group, stopped in front of the terrified man.

I thought I told you never to come back to this town again.

Claire couldn’t hear the words, but could read his lips.

The scared man started to stutter something, but in a movement so fast the naked eye could barely register it, Garrett pulled a pistol from his jacket. He pointed it first square at the man’s chest, but just before firing he aimed at the man’s leg.

Boom.

The gunshot was deafening in the cramped restaurant. People screamed. Claire immediately reached across the table and yanked Harriet to the ground by her shirt. On the floor, Claire pulled Harriet close to her to protect her from anything that could happen next. From there, lying on her side, she watched as Garrett calmly put the gun back in his holster and turned to walk out of the restaurant. As he did, their eyes met for the briefest of milliseconds. And she was positive, beyond any doubt, that he flinched when he saw her. No change in facial expression, no gross change in body motion. As he turned, a slight tic flashed through his body. He noticed her. He saw her there.

He still hangs out with Sean van Wyden, Seth told her. But it’s not the same like it used to be, Claire. Things have changed.

You got that right, she said sarcastically.

Sean’s mixed up in all this, too. He’s something like Garrett’s -- how do I put this? Seth paused. His sidekick.

Astonishment filled Claire’s face. For the first time in her life, she had been forced to suspend all belief. My God. I leave for a few years and everyone just flips out! What the hell’s been going on around here?

Garrett went off the deep end, Claire. He really went off the deep end. And Sean went along for the ride.

How do you know all this?

He paused again. Well, me n’ Sean still kinda go out and have a few beers every now and then. You don’t just stop seeing your friends because they’ve chosen a different career path than you. Though it never had before, this statement sounded odd to Seth.

It all sounded absolutely ridiculous to Claire. You can’t just go and join the Asian mafia.

That’s what I thought. But apparently we’re both wrong. Hell -- Sean’s not even Asian.

Claire walked back over to the couch and sat down. She picked up a yellow piece of scratch paper that Seth’s cat is batting around with its paws. It has Sean’s cell phone number scribbled on it.

She picks up the phone and dials.

“Sean? It’s Claire.”

Every trail of crumbs leads straight back to you.

“Can we meet?”

..........

The weather outside is cold. Cold, but sunny. Claire loves the crisp, dry air of winter. She especially loves the lack of snow in suburban California.

Claire wraps her hands around a large mug of coffee as she gazes out the window at Old Man Red’s coffee house. In less than twenty-four hours, it seems as if her whole world has collapsed in on her. She spent the last three years so far away that her life in California slipped through her fingers into oblivion.

She spots Sean step through the door. A bell jingles as he does. He is accompanied by a tall woman who couldn’t be older than 22. With Sean at 6’3” and the woman at 5’9”, the two look like a rather dangerous couple.

“Hi’ya, Claire,” Sean says as he walks up to Claire’s table. Under any other circumstances, she would get up to give him a hug.

“Hey Sean,” she replies as he and the unfamiliar woman sit down.

Sean introduces the woman. “This is Shawn.”

Claire looked at them and giggles. Sean raises an unamused left eyebrow, and Shawn a right.

“I’m sorry,” apologizes Claire. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks,” says Sean. Shawn sits without speaking, sizing Claire up as if the two were about to brawl. Sean continues: “I heard that you were in the neighborhood.”

“I can only guess where you found that information out.”

“I could hardly believe it when he told me that you were there. There in the damn restaurant. I thought that he was finally starting to crack. Seeing your face on strangers and shit.” Sean smiles. Claire doesn’t return it.

Silence.

“He feels terrible that you saw that shit go down.”

Claire’s sarcasm simmers. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

The sound of the steam machine being used to heat milk sears through the air.

“Sean, what’s going on around here? What happened? Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”

Sean looks at her with guilt. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing he can think of is going to make a difference.

“How the hell did you get involved with all this shit?” Her anger grows. She quotes him directly from his earlier, more idealistic years: “C’mon, whatever happened to ‘finding homes for the nation’s homeless’?”

Sean turns to face the window. He sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I just -- I just gave up control and put my life on autopilot.”

“What the hell does that mean? And how does that lead to the Asian mob?”

“C’mon, Claire --”

She grows more incensed. “Where were you? You were supposed to be there to take care of him, Sean. Remember when you told me that you would? Do you remember? Instead, you let him go off and play cops and robbers.”

“I did watch after him, Claire. I made sure he didn’t get hurt. Why do you think I followed him into the life?”

“You should have never let him get involved in the first place.”

“Claire, you should’ve seen him after you left. He was a fucking mess. He stopped caring about everything. I’m serious, here. Everything. We were all worried sick about him.” Claire looks at him in silence. “Then he hooked up with Fong. Through a fucking temp job as an accountant for one of Fong’s fronts. You know how people just throw their trust at Garrett. He ate it up. Next thing you know, bam. He’s on the inside with the guy. His whole life turned around. And you know what? He was better off living that life than the one he was before.”

“That’s a load of shit, Sean, and you know it. There are other things you can do with your life, and working for a mobster doesn’t have to be one of them. Garrett could’ve done a thousand other things with his life.”

“I’m not talking about his job, for crying out loud.”

Claire doesn’t say anything.

“Listen. You’re gonna have to accept the fact that now that you’ve come back, things aren’t what you had hoped they would be.”

Claire is severely agitated. She looks at the mute Shawn. “What’re you looking at, Tinkerbell?”

Again Shawn’s right eyebrow goes up and a confrontational smirk appears on her face. Sean turns to her, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, don’t take it personally. She didn’t mean anything by it,” he tells Shawn in a voice laced with resignation.

Claire’s anger gives way to despair. She begins to cry and uses a napkin to wipe her face. “I’m sorry, Sean. I’m so sorry. I know it’s not your fault.”

“Hey, hey -- listen, it’s okay. A lot of shit’s gone down lately, ya know? I know it’s all a shock.” Claire settles down. “Okay, tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna go outside and make a call. You stay here, and I’m gonna try and work some things out. Are you gonna be okay?”

Claire sniffles. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. Try not to kill each other, okay?” He throws the girls a wink and gets up to step outside.

Claire sips from her cup of coffee, which is losing its heat.

Shawn breaks her silence. “So you’re Claire, eh? The famous Claire McClellan. Garrett’s American girl.”

Claire looks at Shawn with suspicion. She wonders what secrets are locked behind her blue eyes.

Shawn leans in, both elbows on the table. “I swear to God if you hurt him again, I’ll make you regret it.” Claire comes to the realization that not only is she in the presence of a guardian of Garrett’s physical well-being, but his emotional as well.

Claire responds, “I’ll keep that in mind.” It’s strange. Never before, that she could recall, had someone hated her so much from the moment they’d first met her. But Claire is certain this isn’t the first time Shawn has heard of her. In fact, she’s certain Shawn knows everything.

..........

See? What did I tell you? California’s a nice place, says Tenaka without moving his lips or opening his mouth.

You’re right. Ya know, I could probably live here one day, muses the Brit as he watches a green Explorer pull up to a five-story apartment building. The two sit on a park bench across the street from Claire as she steps out of Sean’s SUV.

Tenaka tosses seeds to the ground for a group of pigeons to eat. So how much longer do you think we’ll have to tail this guy?

Until he leads us to Fong, I guess.

The Old Man sure was pissed.

Who can blame him? We haven’t made much progress these past few days.

How were we to know Fong would be so hard to find? Why couldn’t the Old Man just find him himself? You’d think he had the resources, but no -- make us do all the legwork...

The Brit nudges Tenaka. Hey, remember her? he says, motioning towards Claire.

Tenaka looks up from the birds. Oh yeah -- from the restaurant. What the hell’s she doing here?

Who knows, man. Who knows.

You think she knows Chen?

The Brit smiles. I don’t know. But this is getting interesting.

Little Jenny Gomez is captivated. Looking at the pigeons had been fun enough, but the two men sitting on the bench across from her are worlds more intriguing to her five-year-old mind. She watches as the Asian drops seed to the ground while the white one looks at something in the distance. Occasionally, one of the men cracks a thin smile, followed by the other. As if the first had told a funny joke and the second was reacting. At one point, the white man gets the Asian’s attention, and the two focus on a car that was across the street. Momentary confusion on the white man’s face morphs into a grin, and he looks at his friend. The sides of the Asian’s mouth turn up into a smile as well.

Jenny thought the pair an odd combination. Rarely, if not never, has she seen two men sitting in the park who wore matching dark suits. What fascinates her the most is that, while it is apparent the two are engaged in some sort of conversation, neither man has spoken a word to each other while seated at the bench.

..........

The building, while well-kept, is not the pinnacle of modern living. It’s modest, yet presentable. The carpets are clean, and at one time old coats of paint on the walls were painstakingly removed before being redone. It’s obvious a great amount of care and love is placed into the upkeep of the structure. Claire always expected that Garrett would live in a place such as this.

Sean and Shawn lead her to a third floor apartment. Light from a window at the end of the hallway sets the walls aglow. Shawn raps on the door. “It’s us, Gar,” she calls. The deadbolt unlatches. Excitement and anxiety sets Claire’s nerves on fire. Despite the horrible circumstances in which she’d been reintroduced to the one great love of her life, she’s having difficulty containing her anticipation of being with Garrett again. She smiles brightly. Shawn looks at her and says with marked sarcasm, “Calm down there, Snow White.”

Garrett opens the door, looking as if he’s just gotten out of bed. His hair is unkempt, and he’s wearing a T-shirt that reads SON VOLT and a pair of pajama bottoms. He smiles at Sean and Shawn. They part to let him by. He greets Claire with a smile that rivals hers in width and sincerity and says, “Hey.” The two embrace. The hug is awkward. It’s the hug of two people completely enamoured with each other, yet distance and time have made them near-strangers.

Sean and Shawn leave the two alone and walk down the hall. “How are you doing?” Garrett asks Claire.

The landslide of the past twelve hours slides from her mind as she looks at Garrett’s face. “Good.” She hesitates. “I -- I missed you.” She wasn’t planning on saying it. It just feels natural to.

“I missed you too,” he replies. “C’mon in.”

He leads her by the hand into his apartment. It’s sparsely decorated, with simple picture frames hanging on the walls and simple furniture filling the room. It suits Garrett nicely -- he resisted clutter and complexity in favor of beauty through austerity.

“It’s nice,” says Claire. “For some reason, I knew your place would look like this.” She sits on the couch.

“Do you want some tea?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, but I don’t have any peach.” He remembers her favorite.

“That’s okay. Do you have jasmine?”

“Look who you’re talking to,” says Garrett with a familiar sway.

Claire looks at some pictures on the end table of the sofa. One is of Garrett and a beautiful woman who could easily be a model. “Who’s this?” she asks.

“Who?” asks Garrett from the kitchen, where he begins boiling water.

“This girl in the picture with you.”

“Which one?”

Claire does a bad job of hiding her feelings. “The hootch with blonde curls.”

“My my, Miss McClellan, do I detect a hint of jealousy?” teases Garrett.

“Whatever -- she’s wearing ugly eyeshadow.”

“Get over it.” Garrett comes back into the living room and sits next to her. He looks Claire in her blue eyes, and runs a finger through her brown hair. “You look great.”

She smiles. “Thanks. You look like crap,” she jokes.

“I don’t need you to tell me that. I say that to myself every time I look in the mirror.” His self-depreciating delivery is flawless. Their conversation flows smoothly, just like it did when they were in college.

“Go get dressed. I want lunch,” she orders.

“Yeah, yeah. You know, I got up early especially for you.”

“It’s half past noon.”

Garrett mockingly salutes her and walks to his bedroom. He calls, “So how are the Professor and Simone doing?”

“The ‘rents are fine,” she replies. “But I haven’t had a chance to see them yet.” She gets up and joins him in the bedroom. She stands at the threshold and watches Garrett dress. “Hey guess what. My dad was on the Discovery Channel last month.”

Garrett buttons his pants. “I know,” he smiles guiltily.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Garrett can barely keep himself from laughing.

She walks up to him and playfully punches his arm. “What is it? Tell me.” His laughter is contagious.

“Don’t hate me, but I’ve been talking to them on the phone for like a year now.”

“Who? My parents? Who do you think you are?”

Garrett is fully immersed in hysteria. He can barely talk. “I couldn’t help it. I always had so much fun with them. They’re pretty fucking cool. I told them not to tell you.”

“You jerk!” Claire laughs uncontrollably, and grabs Garrett by the shoulders. She pushes him to the bed. He landed on his back. She climbs on top of him.

“I’m sorry -- but you know they always liked me more than you.”

“You’re really asking for it now, pal.” She tickles him on the ribcage.

Garrett’s laugh reaches dynamic proportions. “For the love of God, stop! They even took me out to dinner last week!” He knows how to push Claire’s buttons.

“You bastard! Shut up!” She stops tickling and looked at him, his face red and a tear rolling down the side of his head. Her smile remains, and she leans in and kisses him.

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