24
The whole entourage marches out of the bridal suite, making the spacious corridor seem cramped. Leading the charge are Tom and his dad, followed by the security team, followed by Jacqueline and Maureen, the latter’s arm still wrapped tightly around the former’s shoulders. Nathan and I follow behind everybody. I don’t even know how to process this mess of emotions raging inside me. Anxiety, stress, and anger, and of course there’s that familiar thread of whatever it is I still feel for Nathan. I ache to reach for his hand, feel the warmth of his fingers around mine. I want to fall into his arms and have him crush me in a strong embrace. But I don’t do either of these things. I keep my gaze straight and my chin up, and I follow the crowd of people who seem intent on having my head on a spike.
As we pass by the groom’s suite, the door slides open ever so slightly, and I almost do a double take when I see Fourth Aunt’s face behind the door, peeping out. She spots me and retreats into the room. I resume walking, my mind whirring madly. What’s going on? Why’s she in the groom’s suite? What does it mean? Are we about to find Ah Guan’s body still cooling in my bed? Oh my god!
I take my phone out, but there are no messages. Nothing. I’m about to send a text to Ma when I realize it’ll make me seem more suspicious. Plus, what if they check my phone and see that I’ve sent a message asking if “the thing has been moved”? Then they’d assume I’m talking about the stolen goods.
“I’m so sorry about this,” Nathan murmurs.
I stuff the phone back into my pocket and mutter, “Don’t worry about it.” My voice comes out as though from afar. I barely recognize the sound. When we get to my room, one of the security guards glances back at Nathan, who nods with a sigh. The guard takes out a master key card and swipes it across the door lock. There’s the familiar whirr of the lock, and he opens the door with what seems like an unnecessary flourish.
This is it. The moment of truth. I step forward, but my legs have turned to water and they buckle. I’ve never lost control of my body like this before. Nathan’s arm shoots out, and I grab it.
“You okay?”
I nod. “Just tripped over the carpet.” Come on, insides. I imagine them turning to iron. To steel. But then I see all these people barging into my tiny room, my little room with the dead body inside, and my muscles go all papery again. I can’t go inside. I can’t. “I’ll just wait out here. Seems pretty crowded in there.” At least my voice comes out somewhat normal-ish.
Nathan nods and I hold on to his arm, so reassuringly solid and strong, the muscles underneath his shirt tight under my palm. He leads me to the wall and I lean against it, hoping I look relaxed instead of floppy. He reaches forward, as though about to brush a stray strand of hair away from my face, but stops at the last second.
“Nathan, I—”
A fire burns bright in his eyes, and he takes another step toward me. “Yeah?”
I what? My voice trails off. I love you? I haven’t stopped thinking about you since college? I have a corpse inside my room that you thought was my boyfriend but actually is just some dude I killed last night? I shake my head. “Nothing.”
The light dies away, leaving his face slack with disappointment. Guilt scratches away at me. But any moment now, those people inside my room are going to wonder why the strange man in my bed isn’t waking up with all the noise around him, and then—
“I’ll go in and hurry them along.” He strides into my room before I can answer.
I stay put, squeezing my eyes tight, hoping that my aunts and mother came through. Footsteps rush out, and my eyelids fly open. Maureen’s right in front of me, her face flushed, chest heaving.
“You’ve hidden them somewhere. You must’ve stashed them—” I can’t help but flinch away from the incandescent rage. “Where did you hide them?” she says.
In a flash, Nathan’s behind her, taking her by the shoulder and arm and pulling her away from me. “That’s enough,” he says, and his voice, though low, has a dangerous tone to it that silences everyone, even Maureen. “We’ve encroached on Meddelin’s privacy without any concrete cause and we’ve found nothing.”
Nothing. I swallow the huge lump in my throat, concentrating on not crying uncontrollably. They found nothing. Ma and the aunties have managed to get rid of the body in time after all.
“But she must’ve hidden them somewhere else!” Maureen cries. “Aren’t the rest of the vendors her family members? Maybe we should search their rooms too!”
Tom frowns. “True—”
“No.” The expression on Nathan’s face makes me think of a tumultuous sea. “We’ve done enough. And you should be apologizing to Meddelin.”
“Apologize to her?” Maureen cries, shrilly. She looks so shocked that something inside me breaks then.
And I’m suddenly filled with rage. Overflowing, really. She’s taken the gifts meant for her best friend and tried to have them planted in my room when she thought she was about to be found out. She is not in a position to judge me.
When I speak, the words come out as firm as a fist. “I think we should check your room now, Maureen.”
Everybody falls quiet, all eyes crawling over to Maureen.
“But—” Whatever else Maureen was about to say trails away. She’s staring at me, and I don’t know what it is, but she must’ve spotted something in my expression, something that gives it away. Her eyes go wide with shock, and her mouth closes quietly. For the first time, I see it plain as day, written across her face. Fear.
She knows I’ve done something to thwart her plans.
And with her shock, her mask slips, just a little, and Jacqueline knows her best friend well enough to understand what’s just happened. Her pale shoulders stop trembling, and she stares at Maureen. Then, quiet as a feather landing in the snow, Jacqueline says, “You were the last one with the gifts.” So quiet, but impossible to ignore.
“No, Jackie, I swear—”
Jacqueline turns to Nathan and says, still in that painfully quiet voice, “I’d like to see her room, please.”
Nathan gives a somber nod.
“No!” Maureen cries, but it’s too late. The entourage turns like the tide, unstoppable, and before I even register it, we’re marching down the hallway again, with Maureen stumbling after us, pleading with us to stop.
This doesn’t feel good. It’s definitely not something I want to celebrate, but I guess it’s necessary. And when we get to room 317, I almost want to shout at them to stop, to turn around. But I stand back and let them open the door while Maureen goes back and forth between saying, “You know you won’t find anything, god, what a waste of time” to “She must’ve done something, she must’ve arranged for something—” And I feel sick to my stomach.
I want to wait outside like before, but I don’t want to be left alone with Maureen, so I follow everyone. Back in her room once again. I stay just inside the doorway, next to the bathroom door, as the security guards go through the room. They’re being respectful, probably because their boss is here, but still it feels like such a breach of privacy. An invasion. I understand the word now. All these burly men going through the beautiful hotel room, turning over every cushion, opening every cupboard. I imagine them riffling through Maureen’s luggage, their hands sorting through her underwear, and it makes me feel ill.
“Make them stop,” Maureen begs Jacqueline.
Jacqueline turns away from her, eyes downcast, and Maureen goes to Nathan. “You can’t do this. I don’t give my consent!”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and I can see he’s struggling too. He’s not enjoying this, not one bit.
Tom’s striding everywhere, peering over the guards’ shoulders and snapping orders at them to look harder and faster. He actually says, “Look harder and faster,” as if it makes one bit of goddamn sense. His eyes are alight. He looks more alive than I’ve seen him so far. He’s not liking this; he’s loving it. I decide then that I despise him. Jacqueline shouldn’t be with someone so abrasive and entitled. She has a sweet disposition, whereas Tom is everything but sweet. Over time, he’ll wear her down, strip her of her gentleness until only resentment remains, hard and sharp-edged.
Someone inside the bedroom shouts, “Found it!” I close my eyes, everything inside me sinking. That’s it.
It’s as though a gun’s been fired. Everybody shoots up to attention, and the atmosphere is electric. The guard rushes out of the bedroom carrying the duffel bag, and Tom and his father rush over, grabbing it from him. Or trying to, at least. The guard barks, “Get back, please, sir,” until Nathan holds out his hand and tells the overzealous guard it’s okay. The bag is handed over to Mr. Sutopo, who rips it open.
Jewelry spills out like glittering intestines. It looks obscene somehow. I turn away as everyone gasps. Jacqueline utters a half-sob, half-sigh.
“No,” Maureen moans. “No, this can’t be. I need to—I—” She fumbles with her phone, but Tom grabs it from her. “Give it back!”
“I think this counts as evidence,” he crows.
Nathan frowns. He obviously dislikes Tom as much as I do, but I don’t know if Tom’s right. Does her phone count as evidence? Nathan holds out his hand. “Please give me the phone. We’ll hold it in our safe room, and we won’t go through anything until we can get the authorities here.” Reluctantly, Tom does as he’s told.
“Thank god we got these back,” Mrs. Sutopo says, bending over and stroking the pile of jewelry as if it’s a baby.
Jacqueline shakes her head and whispers to Maureen, “How could you?”
I didn’t think Maureen could look any worse, but when Jacqueline says that, Maureen’s face crumples.
“I didn’t mean to—I just—”
Nathan places a hand on Maureen’s shoulder. “I think it’s best if you don’t say anything else for now. Let’s go to my office.” His tone is reassuring but firm, and I realize then that he’s trying to help her. My chest tightens painfully. I want to reach out and touch him, thank him for showing some compassion.
“Your office?” Tom says, with a sneer. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t your problem anymore, it’s a criminal offense. I’m calling the cops.”
“No!”
Everyone stops and looks around in obvious confusion. Maureen and Jacqueline both shouted it at the same time.
“Babe,” Tom says, taking Jacqueline’s hand, “you don’t understand—”
“I do,” she says quietly. “And I don’t want to press charges.”
Maureen sucks in a breathy gasp. “Thank you—”
“Okay, that’s just crazy talk.” Tom lets go of Jacqueline’s hand and does this totally humorless laugh. “I mean, I know she’s your friend or whatever, but she stole from us.”
“And our friendship is over because of it. But we’ve found the gifts now, and I just want to move past it, put it behind us.”
Tom snorts, an ugly sound. “Okay, babe, I don’t think you’re thinking straight right now. Maybe you’re all confused ’cause it’s the wedding day, but this is a serious crime.”
“We found the gifts! What more do you want?” Jacqueline snaps.
“Well, you know what? I hate to say this, but the gifts were mostly from my relatives, so I think I get to decide what happens to the thief who tried to steal them.”
“What?” The word comes out poisonous. I’m pretty sure no one in the room is breathing, and honestly, wow. Tom Cruise Sutopo, going even lower than the very low bar I set for him.
He must have felt the tide turning against him, because he sputters, hesitates before he decides to push on. “I just mean—ugh, Pa, help me out here. Talk some sense into her!”
Mr. Sutopo takes a few steps forward and places a hand on his son’s arm. “Come on, son. I think it’s best to let it go.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Sutopo says, “like we always tell you, whenever possible, choose to be generous. So be generous now.” She turns to Nathan and says, “Thank you, the matter is done. We won’t be pressing charges.”
Nathan nods, ignoring the wail of complaint from Tom.
“Thank you, Jackie,” Maureen sobs. “I’m so sorry—”
“I want you to leave,” Jacqueline says, still in that very calm voice. “I don’t want to see you ever again. Is that okay?” she asks Nathan. “Is there a yacht available?”
“I’ll make arrangements.” Nathan nods at one of the guards, who escorts Maureen, still weeping, out of the room. “I’m sorry for all the trouble. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Jacqueline shakes her head, and we all leave the room, deep in our own troubled thoughts.