her
GOLDEN
CHANCE
She still had nightmares.
It had been difficult to look at those eyes and pull the trigger, to see tears rolling down his lovely eyes and not think too much. Then again, thinking hadn't exactly been her forte. Not the way Jai Dixit thought; she had brains, alright, only she didn't devote her every waking minute to use them. Act now, think later; it was a lot like her personal motto. But this time, acting had been difficult, even with all the planning and practicing. What if she missed? Aryan was willing to die, alright, but she, Sunehri, was not willing to kill him. That much had been made clear from their Russian roulette game. She would have preferred to take her own life, to jump down the cliff herself, even without his lifeline, than causing him any pain, let alone death. No time for regret or doubt, though; it was now - the seconds rolled like years, ages, while he looked into her eyes - or never, and it better not be never, for then they would be in really big trouble.
Sunehri dropped her hand down her boot with feline ease and pulled out the gun; three shots in a triangular shape, in the precise spot where a special blend of Kevlar microfilaments and sail fabric - designed and manufactured by Aryan himself - placed protection for his vital organs.
And then the world ended. Sunehri felt weightless, timeless, ageless… The unrelenting Brazilian sun was no longer there and all sounds from nature were silenced by the pounding of her heart. She never felt her gun hand going down; he was gone, gone, gone...
She hadn't even thought about lying to Jai Dixit when he asked why; there was no point. Life had come to an end for her; without Aryan, the world had become a cold, empty place. Time stood still, all essence of life meaningless. Jai Dixit and his partner left her, and she didn't even look at them; they had ceased to exist the moment Aryan disappeared behind the cliff. She couldn't even run to see him falling; he had specifically warned her against it. It could give out the whole plan. And Sunehri remained rooted on the spot; one last act of loyalty to the only man she had ever loved. If she had failed, if the shots had deviated but a centimeter, she would have to live with that last picture etched in her mind, the horrifying image of her man falling off a cliff, all hope lost.
But the worst part was waiting. Aryan had promised to contact her, though he wouldn't tell her how or when. As soon as I can had been his cryptic answer, deflected later with a comment due to her insistence. That was her man; always getting his way, no matter what. They had gone over every single detail of their plan, from vehicles, routes and timing to costumes, dialogues and moves several times, but the dividing line between knowing everything and complete ignorance were the shots. After that, she had been instructed to move on.
"That's it? Like, move on?" she had asked.
"Yes. That's it."
"But... like, how do I, like, find you?"
"I'll find you."
And nothing more. Move on, Sunehri. Forget everything that ever happened here and go make your own life.
Which she would have to do either if she had failed the shots or not.
***
Sunehri had not even given a look at the board. She had bought a ticket on the first plane leaving Rio. Move on, he had said. But all she had wanted to do was run, to the farthest corner of the world and forget she ever knew him, forget she ever fell in love, forget about everything. But she dreamt of him every time she fell asleep on the flight, and she saw him smiling at her in her mind's eye when the flight attendant offered her a Coke. She even confused some guy with him, when her eyes filled with tears and she couldn't see where she was going. The man was nice and helped her pick her stuff, but she didn't even give him a second look. She went away, locked herself in a bathroom and cried herself empty for the first time ever since the shots. She didn't know for how long she was there, but when she came out, she felt strangely calm. She spread water on her face and went out to collect her luggage. It was then when she realized she had flown to Fiji.
She found a job pretty quickly. She picked an underground club, very similar to the one she had first seen Aryan in. Her bartending skills were decent, but she was very aware she had been hired for her looks. After all, she had marketed herself as a dancer as well. The patron, a middle-aged man of dubious habits, had seen the golden mine in her and snatched her right away. And she had been a complete success; the male clientele doubled on the nights she had an act and the liquor sales tripled. She smiled and teased like a professional, while her heart sought among the crowds that one face she longed to see, and never found. The night went on; she swayed and danced, she served them drinks and chatted to customers, but every passing minute deepened the anguish in her heart. Where was him? Where was him? Had she missed the shots? Had she killed the man of her life?
***
"Aim and shoot; it's that simple."
Sunehri looked at the digital image of Aryan, a surprisingly-detailed 3D model, playing on a wall-sized flat screen; it had a small, too small, red circle on the upper chest, the place where the bullets had to strike.
"Remind me again, why aren't you, like, wearing a bulletproof vest?"
Aryan smiled that stunning smile of his.
"I know you don't need reminding, Sunehri. You're a smart girl and I already explained once. So, shoot."
Sunehri looked at him, doubt etched all over her face. But she turned and shot, using a videogame laser gun; three clean shots, all off the mark. The 3D model collapsed and fell down, lying awkward and limp.
"And now I'm dead." Aryan said, aiming a remote control and pressing a button. The 3D image rose to his feet. "Again."
Sunehri took a deep breath and shot again, this time pausing between every shot. Two out of three hit the mark.
"And I'm dead," said Aryan, "and our cover blown because you measured the shots. In a real-life situation, you don't do that." He pressed the button. "Again."
It was frustrating. How was she supposed to hit such a small spot three times in a row? It was impossible
"It's impossible," she said, throwing the gun on a nearby chair. "Think of something else, or, like, wear a damn vest."
Aryan surveyed her face, a stern look on his eyes. He walked to the chair and lifted the gun, shooting a round of ten bullets cleanly into the red spot. "It's not impossible."
Sunehri gave him an astounded look. Okay, it was not impossible. But, did it have to be that dangerous?
She picked the gun from Aryan's hands and aimed, shooting three times. Two missed.
"Again."
Three shots, one miss.
"Again."
Three shots. And the three of them right on the mark.
"Yes!" Sunehri punched the air, beaming. Aryan smiled, punching a few buttons on his remote. The model started swaying slowly.
"End of level one," he said.
Sunehri looked at him, aghast. He nodded towards the screen.
She took aim and shot. All three shots missed.
He gave her a smug smile.
"Again."
They went on for hours. Or at least, that's what it seemed like to Sunehri. The 3D model swayed, jumped, ducked and walked, on varied levels of difficulty.
"I can't believe this!" Sunehri shouted in frustration when the model did an unpredictable mixture of all the previous movements. "Do you actually want me to fail?"
Aryan walked to her side and took the gun from her hands. "No, I rather want the opposite. But we need to cover every possible variable in order to be successful."
Sunehri knew he was right. But still, it didn't need to be this risky!
"Wear a vest, please," she pleaded. "Sunehri doesn't have your ability with guns, she knows she's gonna fail!"
"Then you will fail, and my life will be taken by your hand. The perfect ending to this story."
Sunehri looked at him. Aryan's face was serene; it was the face of a man who had made peace with his destiny.
"Are you really willing to die rather than turn yourself in? Think of it; you keep your life, we get a chance together!" She said, moving closer to him.
His resolve seemed to falter for a fraction of a second. But it could have been a trick of the light as well.
"We won't have that chance together if I go to prison, and a vest is too visible to wear, as I already explained. I will be perfectly fine if you concentrate and hit the mark." He said, putting the gun in her hands and raising them.
"You still haven't seen the worst of this exercise," he said, pushing a button. The red mark disappeared. "Same thing, only without the visual aid."
Sunehri pulled a face of complete disbelief. "You can't be serious."
Aryan's eyes were deadly serious. And she knew he was; in a real life situation, he was not going to wear a red spot on his shirt.
She took aim and shot.
***
Another day, another dollar. Or that's how the saying went. To Sunehri it meant a pretty amount of dollars in tips; a small fortune, as it went, a fortune she kept wasting on cheeseburgers and soda. She ate nothing else; she had tried going to a fancy restaurant once, she even bought a nice dress and shoes, but she hadn't been able to remain seated for ten minutes. Everything reminded her of him; the forks, aligned in front of her, the wine-filled cup, the elaborate dish she had ordered, everything held a memory. Tears welled up on her eyes and she excused herself, leaving all the money she had brought on the table; she escaped as fast as she could, incapable of restraining the sobs accumulating on her throat. The next day she threw away the dress and shoes and vowed never to try something like that again.
Money kept flowing to her, but it meant nothing; she was, by far, the best paid bartender in town, but it didn't fill the hole in her heart. It grew bigger with every night she couldn't find him in the crowd, and as she got home after an exhausting night, she cried under the sheets like a little girl scared of monsters and wished she had the fortune of dying in her sleep.
When the nightmares started, she took a day job as a waitress. It left her barely enough time to nap for a couple hours before going to the club. She feared even those fleeting moments of rest because she knew she'd be seeing him again, lifted off the ground by the bullets and falling in slow motion with a dead look on his face. She would stand still, even in her dreams, for fear of blowing their cover, but something in her would be yelling, crying at her impassiveness, willing her body to move and run, to save him, to hold him, to jump with him; something that sometimes had his voice, reminding her of her betrayal, of her alliance with Jai Dixit. The cop would appear sometimes, too, laying a hand on her shoulder and telling her she did the right thing. She would undoubtedly wake up crying.
***
She had been seated at that table for what seemed to be hours. All alone in that room with nothing but a chair and table, and her own mind to replay over and over what had gone wrong. They had brought her in before sunrise, but she thought it was at least midday by then. The heat was overwhelming; her throat was parched and her clothes stuck to her body, completely drenched. She didn't know if it was out of fear or heat that she was so sweaty; it was probably a combination of both. And not even the smallest trace of air conditioning; it was almost as if she was being tortured, just like that, without a previous trial
The door opened and in came a tall, dark man, with a face that probably gave nightmares to little kids. Sunehri felt a chill run down her spine thinking this was the good cop.
He sat down, dropping a folder on the table, and opened it. He took his time reading reports, looking at pictures before lifting his eyes to her.
"You've been real busy, Sunehri," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "What I have here is enough for a lifetime in prison."
Sunehri felt the room chilling down a few degrees, which would have been pleasant had she not been shaking with terror.
"You see, this is what I love about catching thieves in the act: you don't even have to play 'good cop, bad cop' to extract a confession; it's all hard evidence, right there, on your hands," he added, with the coldest smile she had ever seen.
"Please- I'll do anything," she stammered, joining her hands in front of him. "I could be of help, I could... give up names, people I've worked with, anything!" she said, almost crying.
"Tut tut, Sunehri," he said, shaking his head. "Betraying your comrades this early? You haven't even been tortured yet..."
"Please..." she begged, deciding against feeling offended; he was right, she had offered her associates - not many, but there were some - just that easily.
"Besides, it would be your word against theirs, wouldn't it?" he added. "And the word of a low-level thief it's usually not worth much..."
Sunehri didn't know what else to say. This man, this... Jai Dixit, as his ID card said, was shooting down every possible way out for her. All except one...
"Maybe my word is not worth much, but that's not all I have..." she said, doing her best to replace the fear in her voice with seduction. "Sunehri can do anything, anything you want, get it?"
Jai Dixit smiled derisively, sliding his eyes from her face down the line of her neck.
"You disgust me," he said, "but I'm in a good mood today, so I'm going to ignore that... suggestion."
She was going to say something, but he cut her off with a raised finger.
"And yet, the idea of using you is not that bad..."
"You could use me, yes, in any way you want," Sunehri pressed on, "Sunehri promises to cooperate!"
"Sunehri promises, right. But, should I trust the word of a felon who, a few minutes ago, was ready to turn in every person who ever trusted her?"
She could not reply. He was right, right on all accounts, and she felt him weave around a spider web of evidence and self-incrimination too difficult to escape. Sunehri was not particularly good at mind games and this Jai Dixit seemed to know all of them.
The cop rose from his chair, all of a sudden. "So, Sunehri is willing to betray to save herself," he said, picking up the papers. "Let's see how much she actually loves her own freedom."
And with those cryptic words, he left the room.
***
"I can't do this anymore, Mike."
Sunehri had reached the limit. She had barely made it through the night without breaking any bottles; she had improvised most of her dance number, since she kept forgetting the steps. No one seemed to care, anyway.
"What are you talking about? The pay is real good."
"I know, but I'm exhausted. And I really need to stop."
He moved over to the front of the bar. "Name your conditions. Anything. I need you to stay."
Sunehri smiled. Mike had been decent to her; he had learned to treat her like a human being and not like some sort of goods he owned. Still, there was tough determination on the man's mind to keep his gold mine from going away. And in any other situation, she would have stayed, but this was not a matter of work conditions. She needed to get away from anything that reminded her of Aryan, and the club's decor was too similar to that other one. She was not willing to ask her boss to remodel, though; it would be unfair.
"No conditions. And it's nothing against it, but I need to get away from this place. As soon as possible."
There was determination on her eyes as well. She knew she had the upper hand, and it pained her to give Mike trouble, but not as much as not doing it.
The man sunk his head on his hands for a few minutes. There must be something he could do, anything to keep her around, to tie her to the club without it actually feeling like it.
"Alright, here's the deal: one-month paid vacation to the destination you choose. You get away, get some rest and think things through. How 'bout that?"
"But-"
"Please," the man took her hand. She allowed him; no danger there, since he was not interested in her like that at all. "Don't leave me. I'm saving to buy a yacht."
Sunehri laughed. He had a good sense of humor; she'd miss that. And his proposal wasn't actually opposed to her wishes.
"OK, I'll take it. But I can't guarantee a month will be enough."
The man sighed enormous relief.
***
Sunehri rented a small house on a deserted beach. It was the perfect place to retire from the mundane world; alone, with the sea in front of her and a beautiful native forest behind her house, it was like she was the only person in the world. And that was exactly how she felt.
She had learned to live with the nightmares. She would still wake up crying, but she'd let herself go until her tears dried up by themselves. Then she'd stay on bed, thinking, something she had never made a habit of. She thought of her life before Aryan, of how similar it was to what it was now: alone, free-spirited, cheerful, apparently. To any casual observer - and there had been plenty in the club - she was just another girl, having the time of her life, but deep down she felt the sting of loneliness every time she got home. Back then, she had tried dating guys, but it was soon obvious that they were only interested if she let them have their way with her; one swift slap on the cheek, and in a couple occasions, a solid punch across the face had conveyed the message that she was not that kind of girl. It was almost frustrating how often they mistook a smile, an animated chatter with an invitation to go further than decency dictated. Maybe it was her fault; her dancing was a sensual experience unlike any other, and she had only gotten better with time. But she was not about to stop doing what she liked the most; whatever it looked like, she was happy doing it, and all those guys would have to stuff it and look elsewhere for the kind of fun they wanted.
And then... Aryan. Of course, it was Mr. A for her for a long while. She had collected every piece of information on him, every newspaper article, even the smallest ones. She had a wall devoted to him, and in her spare time, she had tried to figure out how he stole those prized artifacts, but the efforts wouldn't last long. She would always end up going out into the night, fresh with excitement, and burgle the nearest hotspot - she called the places where wealth was sure to be accumulating 'hotspots' - in a cheerful attempt to emulate her hero. And most of the times, she would succeed.
***
She was standing on the beach, looking at the sunset. Aryan stood by her side. She didn't need to turn around to know it was him; she could feel him, she could even feel him smile.
"Nothing to say? That's always surprising."
She smiled; how typical of him.
"Nothing to say. Silence is better to enjoy the sunset."
He turned around and fixed his eyes on the red sun. "This is peaceful."
"Yes it is."
"Do you like this?"
"I do."
Sunehri spoke in short sentences, and avoided anything that could become a conversation. She had not felt like that for months now, and it was refreshing to be able to enjoy life quietly; she was fully aware that there were many things unsaid, but she didn't want to recall them now. She didn't let herself think this was it, her chance of pulling everything out of her chest and get an answer, anything to ease her mind; she was at ease already, no need to remove old wounds.
Let the blood remain under the skin, where I can't see it; time will come to clean the wound someday, she thought.
Later, when she woke up, she was not crying for the first time in a long while. She lingered in bed for longer, basking in the sunrays coming through the window and falling on her face.
***
Sunehri remembered how she had first been introduced to a life of crime. It happened at the internship, back in her school years: she had been punished for stealing something from one of the nuns; ironically, it hadn't been her at the time. And when she cried and begged not to be left without dinner for something she hadn't done, the mother superior told her words that would accompany her for the rest of her life: "Let's see if you can steal from the kitchen." She had taken it as a challenge, and in the dead of the night, had sneaked out of bed and into the locked kitchen. How she managed to unlock the door was still a mystery; years later she thought about it and decided the lock was damaged, but at the moment, it had felt as a complete victory. She had pumped herself full of desserts from the farthest shelves; the nuns had everything arranged by date, so it was a matter of eating the ones that were thought for consumption in a far future, in order to avoid suspicion. She didn't think of taking anything with her at the moment, which proved to be a good thing in the end; when the day finally came and the nuns discovered the theft, they emptied every drawer in every corner of the school, looking for incriminating evidence. A few suspecting looks fell on Sunehri, but since they could prove nothing, they could do nothing.
From then on, it had been a matter of practice. Sunehri refined her techniques; she began to walk the building up and down, looking into the smallest corner and memorizing anything: escape routes, cleaning schedules, and so on, just for fun; for the first time in her life, in that dark and silent kitchen, with her hands full of sweets, she had felt worthy; she had realized she had a talent and was as good in it as other people were in sports, in class, even in charming the ever-stern nun teachers. She was aware that she couldn't share this with anyone; her fatal mistake and what had led her to be incriminated that first time had been confiding in someone she thought a loyal friend. At the age of six, she learned that one lesson that accompanies every good thief: you can't be betrayed if you are alone.
Words that would be repeated to her in the future by her very own personal hero, no less.
***
One day, Sunehri felt like going out. It happened after the beach dream; she had awakened refreshed and felt like she owed herself a bit of happiness. She dressed up nicely and went out shopping; after all, the money Mike had given her to spend the month had been sitting there, unused for too long.
She walked into the first fast-food joint she saw and asked for a cheeseburger. She sat down and allowed her mind to come up with things related to it; she had been finding it increasingly hard to suppress thoughts in the last days. She knew it was part of holding on to him, to his memory; her mind wanted to savor every possible memory connected to Aryan, even if it was a remote recollection of something unimportant. Sunehri had learned to let this memories take over; she would surprise herself thinking of a very particular expression of his face - his furrowed brow, for example - for a long time before realizing what she was doing. She had noticed as well that suppressing these thoughts was what caused her the most pain. So she had given them free entrance into her mind, at any time of the day or night, and had let her emotions flow accordingly, whether it was tears or smiles. She had noticed a steady increase of smiles ever since she stopped repressing things.
Sunehri sipped the last drink of Coke and left the place. She didn't have anything specific in mind; she had thought about wandering around the commercial area, watching people and things, perhaps buying something for herself, if anything caught her eye, but so far it hadn't happened. She bought a sundae and sat on a bench, eating slowly while she watched around. A man with an old-fashioned Polaroid camera taking pictures of tourists, kids playing around, some doves, a hotdog cart; anywhere she looked there were positive things, happy things, things that made her smile and wish she was as carefree as those experiencing them. A boy passed her by, leaving a flyer on her lap. She picked it up and looked at it, without really paying attention. The words 'grand opening' caught her attention, and she noticed the date and time: it was that day, at sunset. It would be nice, she thought, without really meaning it, and stuffed the flyer on her purse. She finished her sundae and left the place.
***
It had been a good month. Sunehri had rested and put her mind in order. She had to hand it to Mike; the man had known exactly what she needed, and she was very grateful for that time. She acknowledged that pain still existed in her, but she was willing to live with that. Aryan had told her to move on, and that was exactly what she was going to do. And it meant leaving the past in the past and thinking of the present, of her future; she had never been particularly good at planning, but she was going to make an effort to please the only man she ever loved; she was sure he was watching her from above.
Sunehri smiled at this thought and finished packing her stuff. She hadn't collected many new things, really, but packing is always a complicate matter; things to keep, things to throw, things that you want to throw away but must keep and vice versa, and the bags always seem smaller than when you first arrived. She wanted to leave everything behind, really, but knew she'd need most of everything, and she was grudgingly making way for them with all her strength. She hoped not to break or strain anything in her attempts of fitting everything in that small bag.
Then she remembered her purse. It was a big one; she could probably use the space in it, although it would probably strain her shoulder if it got too heavy. She picked it up and emptied the contents of it on her bed: make-up, notes, crumpled napkins, and a variety of colored paper sheets fell off. Most of it would have to go, she thought; keep the make-up, throw the flyers away...
Sunehri froze. There, half-covered by paper and garbage were the words 'Golden Chance'.
I'm your golden chance... gol-den chance, got it?
She picked the piece of paper with a trembling hand. It announced the grand opening of a new fast-food joint on town. A restaurant called 'Golden Chance'...
She ran to the door so fast that she pushed her half-packed bag off the bed, the contents flying around. And she left the house so quickly, flyer clutched in one hand, than she forgot to close the door. Nothing mattered anymore, really.
***
There he was, with his back to the door. It was late at night and he was scrubbing glasses, apparently. Sunehri pushed the door open and walked in.
"If you've come for food, it's too late. I've you've come to take me out to dance, it's too early," he said, without turning around.
Sunehri opened her eyes wide and shook her head. "Funny guy."
He flipped around so quickly his hair flew wide open around his head like an umbrella. His eyes were so full of surprise it was almost comical. But he didn't say a word, lest the vision in front of his eyes would disappear.
"So, you got plans already, huh?" snapped Sunehri, with mock-anger. "Expected as much. Men can't, like, really be trusted to remain loyal; it's simply not in their, like, nature."
But she smiled, leaning over the counter. "Sunehri does have a long line of boys waiting to take her out as well, in case you're wondering."
She perched atop of a high stool and swiveled round, leaning back on her elbows. He had walked around the counter slowly and was in front of her.
"I thought I'd lost you," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.
This was too much for Sunehri to ignore.
"So did I," she said, a barely audible whisper.
"But I... I..." he stammered, "I knew you were in town, but when you didn't come, I thought- ... I thought you hated me..."
"Shh..." she pressed a finger against his lips.
He cupped a hand around her cheek. "Let us never be apart again for so long, OK?"
Sunehri leaned her head on his hand. "How could we? I'm your shadow, remember?"
They flew into each other's arms; they had found their lifeline, their reason to live. Their hearts had met again, and filled each other's empty space. The world had ended and begun for them, all shadows of a painful past removed and buried deep in the sands of time, never to be feared again.