Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER ELEVEN

As promised, I've been keeping Trishna up to date on the status of the security of Corso's international accounts. Our communication has been all about business, but we invariably end up drifting to topics that range from the trivial to the personal-books we're reading, movies we like, growing up in different countries, and all sorts of childhood mishaps and anecdotes.

One night, I grab my mobile to call Trishna. That's weird. I could have sworn I had charged my phone earlier, but the battery indicator is red. All this work must be frying my brain, I think as I dial Trishna's number on the landline.

"Mr. Caine"

"Ms. Santorelli."

"I'm sure you noticed it's Friday night," she says.

"Kind of hard when your days run into each other," as I say this I hear a clicking noise on the line. The sound makes me pause, but then I remind myself it's just Venezuela's crappy phone service. "Are you busy?"

"Tired."

"Is that code for 'call me tomorrow'?"

"No, that's code for 'we'll talk on Monday'."

"This can't wait."

"What's up?"

"Not now; I'd rather tell you in person," I say.

"Is it that bad?"

"Dreadful. These walls are closing in on me."

"I thought this was about work," she says.

"It is," I say. "But there's no reason we can't talk while I experience the outside world. Does the sun still come out?"

"Don't be absurd."

"There's this Alberto Korda exhibition at the Sofía Imber Museum I've been wanting to see."

"Yes, I've been meaning to see that too," Trishna says.

I smile. "Perfect, then pick me up at ten. I'll even throw in lunch for the inconvenience."

"You're utterly ridiculous," Trishna says. "See you tomorrow."

We spend the following morning at the Sofía Imber Museum of Contemporary Art. The place isn't too big, so we decide to see all of its thirteen rooms, including the photography exhibit.

Later, while we walk back to Trishna's car, she says, "Soto is like a Miró in motion."

"How come?"

"Well, some of Miró's works are simple lines and points; Soto takes that same concept, but makes it tri-dimensional, almost interactive."

"I've never seen it that way," I say.

"What do you think?"

"I think all artists struggle to represent the geometry of life in their own way, just like writers deal with archetypes. There are only so many stories that you can tell, but an infinite number of storytellers."

"I think we should add 'philosopher' to your résumé," Trishna says. "Is there anything else I should know about you?"

"Wait until you hear me sing."

"You sing too?"

"No, but that's usually when all the charm dies out."

We have lunch at a sushi restaurant near my apartment. I have met many smart, self-assured and sexy women in my life, but never combined in one person and definitely not the way I see them personified in Trishna.