“The Mercedes touch.”
She wiggled her fingers. She thought he was kidding, but the way he looked at her said he wasn’t.
“Why five rocks?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“He told me one for Gia, one for me, one for you, one for him, and one for Cora herself. He also said David slayed Goliath with five smooth stones. You know, just in case we need to slay someone before we leave today.”
“Hmm. Everyone here is already dead.”
“Cuddy told me to keep the rocks. But I’m not going to carry them around in my purse. I don’t need any help not floating away.”
“Plus, your purse weighs twenty pounds without the rocks.”
“Exactly.”
Amazingly enough, Gia left the rocks alone and was finally coaxed—after one rose was set aside for her—to lay the flowers on her mother’s grave. With the sun setting in front of them, the three made their way back toward Noah’s Subaru.
“Are you still angry, Mer?” Noah asked, setting Gia on his shoulders.
“Are you?”
He was silent, and Mercedes could feel his indecision billowing like steam from a hot pot. He was stewing in something.
“I asked you first,” he said, sounding the way he had when they were ten.
“I’m not angry. Not most of the time. I want to understand, and I’m not sure I ever will.”
“No. Me neither. I would give anything to have an hour with her. To talk to her. I have a lot to say,” he muttered.
“Do you want to tell me? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
“There are some things, some confidences, that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“I’m not taking them lightly, Noah. I never have.”
“I know, Mer. That’s not what I mean. I don’t want to hurt your opinion of Cora with my anger. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect. Mami told me not to tell her when my friends hurt me, because I would forgive them eventually, and she never would.”
Noah laughed. “So true. I’m working on forgiving Cora. Forgiving myself. But I don’t want to paint her a certain way—a permanent way—because of the way I feel right now.”
“Are there things you aren’t saying, Noah?” Mercedes asked, wanting to know what he knew but not wanting to reveal her own secrets.
“There are things I’m not saying, Mer,” he answered. “Things I may never say.”
“Okay,” she whispered, wondering for the umpteenth time what was right and what was wrong, what was betrayal and what was love. But if Noah was set on silence, she would be silent too.
“All I know, Noah, is that Cora loved you,” Mercedes offered after a long pause.
“How do you know that, Mer?” he asked, so softly, so sadly, that she blanched and waited for him to meet her gaze.
“Because I know who you are, Noah Andelin.”
He stared at her, confused.
“You are the best person I know. Always have been. True. Kind. Selfless. Hard-working. Handsome.” She winked. “I agree with your mom. You,” she poked him in the chest, “are a miracle.”
“That’s how you feel, Mer. Not how Cora felt.”
“She was convinced she didn’t deserve you, and she did her best to prove herself right. But I know she loved you. She worshipped the ground you walk on. Just like I did.”
“Just like you do,” he teased, ready to leave the serious talk behind them.
“Yes. Just like I do.”
“I love you, Mer.”
“I love you too, Noah. Now can we please go eat? I’m starving.”
“Dee-Uh hungy,” Gia piped up from her father’s shoulders.
“Gia is always hungry.” Noah laughed. “I guess I better feed my girls. Let’s eat.”
* * *
Three days later, at the end of her shift, Keegan was waiting for Mercedes in the parking lot beside Maven, a cigarette between his fingers, propped against his black Volvo like he was posing for a photo shoot.
They hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words—always polite, always professional—since the night almost two months ago when he’d admitted the affair. Mercedes had begun to relax in his presence, to even hope that Cora’s indiscretion would stay buried with her. Keegan clearly had other plans.
“She looks like me, Sadie,” Keegan greeted, grinding out the cigarette with the toe of his pointy black boot. “Cora’s little girl. She looks like me.” He pushed off the car and approached her Corolla. She had her keys in her hand—she always had her keys ready before leaving the building.
“Don’t you think she looks like me, Mercedes?” Keegan pressed.
“I think she looks like Cora,” Mercedes said. Her hands had begun to shake, making her keys jangle.
“I hadn’t gotten a good look at her before. But when Noah brought her in a couple weeks ago . . . I saw her. I saw her, and she looks like me.”
“What are you trying to say, Keegan?” Mercedes’s heart was knocking against her breasts, and she wanted to fold her arms over her chest to keep it still. But she steeled herself instead, meeting his gaze.
“What if she’s my daughter?” Keegan insisted. “I need to know that, don’t I?”
Mercedes stared at him, horrified. His point was imminently reasonable while threatening utter devastation.
“Why?” Mercedes breathed. “Do you suddenly want to be a father?”
“No. Not particularly. But . . . if I am the little girl’s dad—”
“Her name is Gia. Gia Mercedes Andelin. She has a name,” she hissed.
“Right. Gia. If I am Gia’s dad, I want to know. And I want Noah to know.”
Again, Mercedes paused, her eyes pouring over his face, trying to understand, to glean motive and malice, to unearth intent. He looked away, clearing his throat and folding his arms.
“Why would you do that to Noah? He’s her father. He’s been her father since the day she was born. He’s done all the work. You haven’t. And why would you do that to her? Why would you complicate things this way?”
“Look at her. She looks just like me,” he huffed.
Mercedes had looked, and Gia did look like him. No one would put it together, but the moment you suspected, it wasn’t hard to see.
“Secrets have a way of coming out, Mercedes. It’s gonna come out,” he warned, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a few steps toward her.
“So, you’re going to go to Noah, and you’re going to tell him you think that his daughter is actually your daughter? Are you going to sue for parental rights? Force him to fight for his daughter in court? What?” It was all she could do to keep her voice level, to maintain eye contact, to not attack him with clawed fingers and snapping teeth.
“If I have to.” He sounded almost apologetic, like he knew what he was saying made him an asshole, but there was no other way to get what he wanted.
“If you have too? You slept with his wife, and now you want to take his child?”
“I think she’s mine.” He shrugged. “But maybe we can work something out. Me and you,” he said, moving so close she had to lift her chin to meet his gaze.
“Work something out?” she asked, her voice flat.
“I need money, Mercedes.”
She wasn’t following, and her heart was still caught in the horror of his threat.
“W-what?”
“I need . . . cash,” he repeated. “I’ve gotten myself into a little trouble that only money can fix. If you can help me, I’ll stay away from Noah and the little girl.”
She was reeling, angry, but most of all confused. “You want me to pay you off?”
He had the conscience to look uncomfortable, but he nodded, defiant. “I need money.”
“What assurance do I have that you’ll stay away once I give you the money? I wasn’t born yesterday, Keegan.”
“Noah seems like he’s a decent guy. I know she’s in good hands.” Keegan said, magnanimous. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Mercedes wanted to laugh. As if that was what this was about. Keegan didn’t give a shit about the kind of hands Gia was in. He was playing a role. A part. And he wasn’t playing it well.
“I need that money, Mercedes. I’ll take it, and I’ll go.”
“You’ll go? You’ll leave the salon?”
“I’ll go to L.A. or New York. I want bigger and better than Salt Lake City, Utah. I made more in one weekend at the Sundance Film Festival than I make in two months here. There’s money working for big names. I’ll go, and no one will be the wiser.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
“Fifteen grand would probably do it.”
“Holy shit, Keegan!”
He folded his arms, defensive, but he didn’t amend his price.
“Why do you think I have that kind of money?” she asked.
“You live in a dump. You drive a fifteen-year-old car. You shop at Goodwill. But you make good money. You’re a saver, Mercedes. I bet you tuck away every last dime.” He smiled at her fondly like her frugality was adorable.
“Who are you?” Mercedes said, shaking her head. “I feel like I don’t even know you.”
He shrugged. “Who am I? I’m kinda thinkin’ I’m Gia’s daddy.”
The words made her shudder, her vision swam.
“We’re friends, Mercedes. I like you. You like me. I hate that it’s come to this.”
“Why has it come to this, Keegan? Nobody’s making you do it.”
He shifted and looked at her sorrowfully before pursing his lips and tossing his long, blond hair back off his face.
“I’m willing to give her up. But I just think I deserve something in return,” he coaxed.
Give her up? Mercedes scoffed so hard she choked. She’d always known Keegan was shallow. Vain. But she’d never been threatened by his faults. Everyone had them, and he was a good stylist. She’d even liked him. She didn’t like him anymore. She hated him. And she was afraid he was going to hurt the people she loved most. For the first time, Mercedes considered that Cora hadn’t been trying to confess her affair with the paper doll picture. Maybe she’d been trying to warn Mercedes.
“All right, Keegan. I’ll pay. I’ll pay, and you leave. And I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Thirteen
1990
Noah had been afraid no one would come. Not because Mer wasn’t amazing, but because he wasn’t sure many people knew just how amazing. Mer did her own thing, and she didn’t have a lot of time for a social life. They’d both talked about trying out for the school’s basketball teams, but neither had the money or the time. They worked after school and on weekends, squeezing friendship in the cracks. But looking around the crowded room, you would think Mercedes was the most popular girl in school.