Strategy

I had never entered a place as rotten as chic as Rutledge. After giving our names at the entrance, we walked through what appeared to be a completely transparent walkway, which passed through a small aquarium full of tropical fish. We left the catwalk for a gigantic hall, overtaken by the endless buzz of voices, laughter and music. There was a small crowd scattered around the place, clustered in small groups that interspersed.

I allowed myself to appreciate the classic beauty of that room, with tables covered with diaphanous fabrics, three huge chandeliers illuminated from the ceiling, rugs covering the marble floor at strategic points. Kauã was a stylish guy and enjoyed great events.

I spotted my editor and personal advisor a few feet away, talking to an ostentatious-looking old man. He took a brief look in our direction, indicating with a look that I would have to wait. I smiled slightly, understanding the situation; it would be very suspicious if Kauã left the conversation with an important figure to pay attention to a nobody. I decided to start the exploration by the long tables full of food, with Lucas and Rafael on my tail.

Rafael analyzed everything around him, computing details, his blue eyes scanning the room in search of small slips. I felt myself treading the abyss. Rafael was astute and assertive, meticulous in his remarks. His sharp mind worked quickly, efficiently analyzing and discarding information. I knew his skill and intelligence; he knew that if anyone were able to discover Carvalho's identity, it was Rafael Lange.

And I couldn't let that happen.

- Calm down, Nina - Lucas whispered in my ear, his hands putting a gentle but firm pressure on my shoulders. I noticed that he gritted his teeth and forced myself to relax his jaw - Be calm. Everything is under control, okay? Relax.

Someone came up behind me at that moment, drawing the attention of the three of us. Kauã was dressed in his usual elegantly eccentric manner, a navy blue suit with a straight cut, prescription glasses with dark lenses, fake snake leather shoes and gray hair in a high bun. It was easy to understand why many people suspected that Kauã himself was Carvalho: his profile fit precisely in the role of the crazy writer.

- Lucas! - Kauã pulled Lucas into a biased half-hug, with his natural charm and elegance emerging - How good it came! We were in need of young people to brighten the atmosphere.

- I never refuse a good party.

"And you," he said to Rafael, his warm smile a little more rigid than usual. I thought I saw a brief raise of eyebrows - he is the boy of the riddles, right? Great talent and charisma, certainly.

Rafael nodded, grateful. Kauã then addressed me, as if only then had he noticed my presence. We exchanged a compliment while Lucas pretended to introduce us.

- This is Nina. Nina, this is Kauã, the editor of O Relativista.

I forced a carefree smile.

- Nice party.

- Did you find it, dear? I did my best to make it worthy of the great book we celebrate.

- And did a great job. I imagine that Mr. Carvalho found everything charming.

- Ah, the grumpy old man didn't want to come - Kauã shook his head - He hates this party thing, you know? It is also very modest. Oh, God, who left that glass of champagne by the soundboard? Ehr, excuse me - He hurried out, leaving us beside the settee table. Rafael scratched his chin.

- The guy lies well.

- H-how is it?

Rafael looked suspiciously in the direction where Kauã disappeared.

- For a start, I don't believe Carvalho didn't want to come to the party. Here is the center of the snake's nest; the guy is going to want to know first hand what people have been saying about his book, and this party is the best place to do it without showing it. And I don't know on what planet Joaquim S. Carvalho is a humble guy. Have you noticed how his name is highlighted on the cover?

I swallowed. We were entering dangerous territory.

- The party is huge, bigger and more crowded than what used to be book launches. It is certain that The Relativist was a great success, but this was designed with a greater objective: - he approached involuntarily - to lose track. Seriously, they invited us, the three people nothing else to see that they could have found. They want to have the greatest possible diversity to camouflage Carvalho's presence.

I was sweating cold. My eyes burned under my eyelids, my throat was dry and everything seemed to be out of focus. Rafael followed a very precise line of reasoning; he continued.

- Carvalho is smart. He obviously created a false identity along with his pseudonym, and reinforces this image with stereotyped actions. It would make sense for a grumpy old man to refuse to come to a party, so I am inclined to believe that he is neither old nor grumpy. - Rafael reflected a little and concluded - If I were in his place, I would choose this image precisely to fit some pattern ...

He fell silent, continuing his considerations in his troubled mind. Lucas gave me a worried and incredulous look, astonished by the amount of information Rafael had gathered in less than twenty minutes in that room.

My breathing was out of step. Somehow, I understood perfectly the line of reasoning that Rafael followed, seeing it as clearly as if it had been verbalized.

An identity that fits the standards.

I remembered well the day I sent the manuscripts to the publisher. I had sat in front of the computer, about to print four of the short stories I had written, and I was faced with a dilemma: the codename. I didn't want to publish anything under my real identity - at the time, more out of fear than for other reasons. He had thought of several ways to sign, from simple initials to names full of arabesques. Finally, he decided to adopt something more classic.

I knew beforehand that women were not very well accepted in the genre of horror and suspense; although the most absurd prejudices fell to the ground in the 19th century, there are still very few women on the list of renowned authors of terror. Among Poe, Lovecraft, Stephen King, Stocker, Barker, Stevenson and many other giants of psychological suspense, only Mary Shelley stood out with one or two other authors. It is difficult to find big female names in terror and, despite that I am deeply indignant, I decided to adopt a different strategy.

I would use the austere and traditional cover by Joaquim S. Carvalho. I would write my stories and publish books. He would finish his degree in History and, when the time came, he would show the world that the great writer that everyone knew was, in reality ...

- ...a woman. The words were frightening in Rafael's soft voice. He slapped himself on the forehead - But of course! Carvalho must be a woman!

☽౦☾

Sitting in an empty cabin in the cleanest bathroom, I pinched the bridge of my nose as I tried desperately to order my thoughts. The important thing was not to panic, however much I wanted to run out the door, grab Lucas by the sleeve and disappear, never to return.

I knew this could end up happening. I wasn't naive; it is obvious that chatter would generate discussions and discussions would generate curiosity. Someone would try to find out. Perhaps they would find out ahead of schedule.

But not so soon!

Damn you. Rafael. Lange.

I took off my unbearable shoes with impatience and lifted my legs, resting my chin on my knees. The situation was delicate. Rafael would continue to ask questions and observe everything in the smallest detail. While I was shaking with nervousness in the bathroom, the bastard could be reaching a thousand unwanted conclusions.

You had to keep an eye out for that guy. I would have to mess up the information, disrupt the boy's life and always be attentive to his every step. He hated the idea of ​​taking care of someone. I hated the idea of ​​hiding, being sneaky and cautious and acting like a fugitive.

But I had gotten myself into that situation and now I would have to face the consequences.

I left my hiding place with a decision turning my stomach, accelerating my heart, softening my legs like gelatin.

Keep your friends close; your enemies, even closer.

The hall burned with movement and music. A dance floor - which was not there when I ran to the bathroom - now had dozens of people moving their bodies in that disordered way that can afford the luxury of drunkenness. Kauã was classy, ​​but he also knew how to entertain his audience.

- Nina - Lucas exclaimed relieved to see me arrive - You missed the ad!

I frowned.

- What ad?

- Carvalho will release his second book next year - Rafael intervened. - They didn't say the name.

- That… ehr… looks good.

Dammit dammit dammit! Articulated like an olive. Congratulations, Nina. Rafael laughed at my face, accompanied by Lucas, and I found myself obliged to distribute two elbows.

- You suck.

The music continued to play, but none of us were in the mood for dancing, so we walked over to the huge sofas leaning against the walls of the room and sat on one of the empty ones. Lucas tried to make conversation with me, and ended up giving up when he noticed my mood - happy as a badger with pepper in the ass. I must have scared Rafael with that closed face, since he quickly slipped away under the pretext of 'gathering more evidence'. And my initial determination to follow him to avoid further disasters has completely withered.

- What is it, sour bug? Lucas bit into a sandwich he had brought. I huffed hard, throwing myself against the padded back of the sofa.

- What was the stupidest idea to just call Sherlock Holmes for the launch? The son of a bitch won't stop until he finds out of my identity!

- Honestly, I see no problem with that. - Maybe my look was potentially murderous enough for him to step back and raise his hands - Hold on, Chuck. I just wanted to say that Rafa is trustworthy. What's the big disaster if he finds out?

- I don't know - I replied with a little impatience - Something to do with the fact that I don't know him.

- But I know. And I would give my ass for him.

- You would do that for anyone, Lucas.

- Does not matter. You could take a chance.

- I…

- Marebel - Kauã whispered as he passed us, making a discreet gesture that asked me to follow him. I gave Lucas a tired smile and, after waiting a few seconds, went after the editor. He walked quietly down some corridors, with me a few meters behind, and stopped at a dimly lit corner.

When I reached him, he put a hand on my shoulder, locking his gaze on mine.

"I don't like the look of that boy." He got to the point. - He asked a lot of questions. Watch too much, listen too much, and I can swear he was taking notes in that damn little black book.

- Rafael. His name sounded like a tired confession on my lips. Behind the tinted lenses of his glasses, Kauã increased the intensity of his gaze until he got my full attention.

- Listen well, girl. You know the deal. Nobody can know about Carvalho. Do you understand what I mean? If your identity leaks now, goodbye second book.

It wasn't Kauã's intention to make a threat, but his harsh words caused a shiver through my body. I nodded. He squeezed my shoulder a little more and sighed.

- Thank you. You know that this is not the time to reveal yourself. The time will come, but not now.

"I know," I murmured. Kauã smiled.

- Great. Now, go back there and keep an eye on that busybody, okay? And try to dance a little, it was difficult to set up that track.

Kauã disappeared down the corridor, while I fixed my gaze somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I was incredibly calm for someone whose career was threatened early on. I must have stayed a few minutes there, staring down the dark corridor, until I decided to move and go back to the party. That night was not going as I expected. I took the opposite route to the one that had taken me there, leaving at the same point where I had entered earlier. The bright light that came from the hall in contrast to the gloom from where I had been blinded me for a moment, enough for me to trip over someone.

- Oh, my God, I'm sorry, I didn't see you ... - I started to apologize hurriedly. The guy I hit laughed.

- All right, Nina - Oh, shit. Him. The last person I would like to meet at that moment. Rafael helped me to stand up like a rag doll on heels - What were you doing in there?

- Why does that interest you? - I regretted the rudeness as soon as she made my lips furious. Being aggressive would only make things worse - You were coming in here too - I accused.

"It looks like a suspicious place," he shrugged. - I wanted to investigate.

- You're taking this madness seriously, aren't you? Do you really believe that the author is a woman?

- It's just a hypothesis. You can't tell if I'm right with just that amount of information. But if I had to kick, I would say yes, I believe it is a woman.

- Your head works in a strange way.

- People usually tell me that.

"It wasn't a compliment," I said seriously, even though I knew it was a compliment. I didn't understand where that need to always be on the defensive came from, when I should be trying to get closer. Rafael brought in his presence something that provoked a real rebellion within me, and I did not like to feel out of control.

We were standing in the narrow corridor, close enough that the heat radiating from his body would ignite the bare skin of my arms. Rafael was taller and bigger than me, his partially lit shape swelling over me. Rebellious blond hair fell over his forehead; I had to restrain the urge to fix them. Rafael wet his lips, forcing me to look away from his mouth to another place less harmless to my mental health.

It was the worst decision of my life.

When I looked into his eyes, I found a myriad of emotions - shame, anger, resignation. The remorse was instantaneous. I saw my own image reflected in that ocean. His mind was his refuge, his greatest quality and his greatest prison - and I had tainted him. Rafael was like me, a soul lost in disorderly thoughts. A sigh of agony, a look of understanding, small pieces of lucidity in the midst of chaos. It was easy to recognize the signs.

His affliction was my own, and nothing could have been more frightening.

"That was a mistake," I whispered before taking off. I ran to the entrance, ignoring the astonished looks I received from running with my shoes in my hand. I took advantage of Lucas' moment of distraction, busy drinking apple cider across the room , and I snuck out, getting into the first taxi I found. I tried to simulate false serenity by giving the driver the address.

I took the phone out of my bag to reassure Lucas. He would soon notice that I was gone.

[19/02, 23: 51h] Nina: I didn't feel well. Too much tension

[19/02, 23: 51h] Nina: I'm coming home

[19/02, 23: 51h] Nina: Thank you for coming with me. Sorry for the pipe

I put the phone away without seeing the answer and spent the next twenty minutes with my forehead pressed against the icy glass of the car window, blaming myself for every wrong decision I had made that shit night. I had let the situation get out of hand, emotions took over and self-awareness went into space. He had panicked and lost his temper. One of my few skills was the ability to keep emotions in check; I hate to give in to impulses, to act without thinking, and all I had done that night was to be impulsive.

When I found out, I was home. It was after midnight, but I decided to ignore the rational part of my mind that protested against the absurdity of going out alone at night in São Paulo.

I had already proved myself a complete idiot. What difference would it make to make one mistake more or less?