LUCA

Luca didn’t want Martin to go to the airport with them, but he insisted. The taxi was waiting before dawn. As they crossed the bridge, the sky over the river turned orange-red. It reflected on the steely water, turning it the color of blood. There was a river in Greek mythology. He remembered it from his school days. A river dead souls had to cross before they were directed to go one way or the other, into heaven or hell. There was no question in Luca’s mind where he was going to end up.

The night before they left, Charlotte made phone calls. First to Zdenĕk, who came over to say a quick good-bye. Luca had to admit Zdenĕk was a likable elf. If he was worried about Charlotte flying to LA, he didn’t show it in front of Martin and him. A smart man, Luca thought. He’s biding his time. But when they disappeared into her room, Luca could tell from the timber of their voices that they were arguing. He could only catch the tone, not what was being said.

After Zdenĕk left, Charlotte came into the kitchen and called Cece.

Cece agreed to do the book tour; she’d send over stacks of books for Charlotte to sign after she returned from the West Coast. Then Charlotte asked for Brad and handed the phone to him. He put it on speaker so Charlotte and Martin could hear. Brad spoke to him unofficially. Since he represented Javier, he couldn’t represent him, Brad said, wouldn’t represent him even if he could, because if it came to that he would need a criminal lawyer. And, yes, he told him, there was a real risk of that. What Luca hadn’t told Charlotte and Martin until that night were the things he and Randy did for the few months after Luca turned eighteen, before he fled to San Francisco.

“You’re taking a real chance,” Brad warned. “Worst case? One, maybe two others get curious, or, like you, need to see for themselves. They show up at the funeral. They see you. They remember you. They call a lawyer, or the police. I’m not saying that’s what’s going to happen. Just that it’s a worst-case possibility. I think you’d eventually beat it because you were so clearly coerced. I’m warning you though: you’d have a long, nasty fight on your hands. Something you might regret.”

Charlotte tried to talk him out of going then.

“You don’t have to go with me,” he told her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’m not letting you go through this alone.”

She turned to Martin for his approval. Luca didn’t think he looked convinced.

In the airport Luca hung back, keeping several steps behind Martin and Charlotte. A few passengers in the waiting area recognized Martin. A woman asked for an autograph. Luca watched Charlotte. He was afraid for her. What if he was outed and arrested? Would she be arrested too? She wore her new hairstyle and clothes with such confidence, as though she always dressed that way.

His shirt and tie felt like a noose.

Strapped into their cushiony leather seats, Charlotte and Luca held tight to their armrests as the plane rose to 35,000 feet. Several hours later, somewhere over one of the Dakotas, Charlotte took her headphones off and said, “We don’t have to do this. We can check into the hotel and make a vacation out of it. We can drive up to Big Sur.”

Luca shook his head. She put the headphones back on, reached over and slipped her hand into his. He leaned his head on her shoulder and slept the rest of the way to LA.