Tequila Americano

27. farewell

"It's so fucking good to see you," he said, "you had me really scared there for a minute."

"It's good to be back," she replied. "Now take me home, please."

He obliged with a mock-military salute and helped her with the luggage to his car.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Remi asked after he hopped in behind the wheel.

Ingrid pondered as she fastened her seatbelt. "Yeah... and then some. But it's all dead and gone now. Buried deep."

"I see." Remi turned the key into ignition, backed out of his parking slot and drove away. "So where to next?"

*

April, 2018

"Listen," Teddy said on the other end of the line, "the kid's underage and I fucked his dad. I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole."

Ingrid rolled her eyes into the phone. "I'm not asking you to sleep with him, just... introduce him to some boys his age he can fool around with. What I want you to help him out with, is his comics."

A dead beat. Ingrid had called her old friend and occasional lover to request his assistance on Cillian's behalf. Besides his off-the-books sex therapy services, he was also a very talented artist. Just what Cillian needed for his comic book project.

"What do you mean?"

"The boy writes comics, Teddy. He needs an artist to draw them."

"Right. This is a pretty lengthy bill you're running up here, love. Who's gonna be footing it?"

Ingrid laughed, glancing at her wristwatch. She was due to meet somebody soon and had made the phone call to kill some time.

"Just put it on my tab. Oh, and one last thing, Teds – do you think you could put me in touch with your dad?"

"My dad?" Teddy sounded incredulous. "Whatever the hell for?"

"Well, I'm not sure you've heard but I'm going to Melbourne soon. On business. Your dad used to work for Brennan Australia before the recession shut it down, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did."

"I might need some contacts. Anyway," Ingrid hurried to end the conversation as she saw her lunch appointment approach, "I'll text you more details, gotta go now. Bye, Teds."

"Right. Bye, baby."

Ingrid put her phone down and smiled up. The gesture was not reciprocated.

"What do you want?" Oskar demanded as soon as he sat down with his lunch. "I don't have much time, so this had better be quick."

She watched him dig into his cafeteria-bought pasta and felt her throat tighten. She'd spent a long time wondering whether to do this and was beginning to regret it. Had she really believed that she'd be able to make amends with this boy she'd used up and broken down? Had she really hoped he could forgive her?

"It's, um," Ingrid fidgeted in her seat. "It's something of a long story."

"Well," Oskar mumbled, mouth full, and swallowed, "make it short. Some of us have work to do."

"Right." She clenched and unclenched her fist. The broken-hearted boy had now become a world-weary man. "I'm sorry," she stood up, "this was a bad idea."

Knowing she only had herself to blame, Ingrid picked up her coat and strode away. For a split second, she imagined him getting up after her, running towards her, grabbing her arm and apologising... But, of course, he didn't. He had nothing to apologise for.