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“Who’s Daniel Lambert?”
Good question.
~
I got married on the 27th of May 2004. It was one of the happiest days of my life. It also became one of my biggest secrets.
But that’s what happens when you start working in a business as dangerous as mind crime - crime being the key word. Full of lying, cheating bastards that I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw. But there you go.
So, no, I’ve never told anybody about my marriage. It’s far too important to me.
Speaking of mind crime – speaking of my husband – it was he that introduced me to dream sharing in the first place. I’d always known what he did and why we had to be so careful, but I was just a regular grifter.
Then he’d wanted to explore the possible uses of my ability to play a role and create a new identity in a dream. He showed me what I could be.
Who knew it would take off like it did?
It all started, really, on the first job I ever did. Within the first 30 seconds, in fact. I blame it entirely on Arthur. Arthur who doesn’t have a last name. Arthur who knows the importance of secrecy. Arthur who shouldn’t have been playing silly buggers in front of everybody if he knew what was good for him.
“Welcome to the team, Mr. Eames.” Arthur had said, eyebrows raised and a smile threatening his lips as he ran his hand down my arm, feathering his fingers over my naked ring finger.
Married life, even if secret, was still new and exciting, so it’s understandable that Arthur was being a little lax. It was me that had to bleeding pay for though, wasn’t it?
“Oh, Eames is it? The new – what are they calling you? Forger?”
That was Dominick Cobb, appearing like a fucking ninja. I was about to correct him and all, when Arthur slapped me on the back and interrupted,
“Yep. This is the one I was telling you about Dom. Eames. Mr. Eames. He’s a bit green, but wait ‘till you see him in action. It’s amazing.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Cobb shook my hand. “Great to be working with you Eames.”
He’d been so happy then, new wife and a kid on the way... but I digress.
I’d nodded back at him. “Likewise.”
Then Arthur had just walked off with him, smirking and whistling to himself. I’m inclined to believe he had it all planned, so he would know I was always his. Even if everybody else was oblivious.
And so it was. I was Eames. Worse things happen at sea, I suppose.
~
Years and years passed in this way. I became Eames, master forger, who occasionally, but not always, worked with Arthur, best pointman in the business. If you said Eames to anybody, they would know exactly who you meant. Eames was dream-share elite. I’m not sure how it all crept up on me really.
Then we did that inception job, and it actually took. It worked.
So, we formed a little team: me, Arthur, Ariadne and Cobb. It was mostly for Cobb– more reliable I suppose – but, I can’t lie, I quite liked it as well. Yusuf would join us occasionally. It was like having real friends.
Except that you probably wouldn’t still be lying to your friends about the fact that two of you had been married for the past 7 years. And that your name wasn’t, in fact, what you’d told them it was.
It’s not that big of a deal, right?
And so that’s the story up to now. Up to when Ariadne comes out with a curious “Who’s Daniel Lambert?” when all I’d asked her for was to get my camera from my luggage.
Well, the game’s up now. She’s got my genuine driving licence in her hand. Arthur – the bastard – is looking expectantly at me.
“You know, Ariadne, dear, didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to rummage through people’s belongings?” I can see she’s not going to be placated.
“There’s a wedding ring here as well. And a passport.”
Arthur coughs from the corner. “It’s his alias, Ariadne. Most of us use them. You should start to as well, really.”
She frowns. I prepare myself for the inquisition.
“No. His alias is that Canadian one – Michael Anderson.”
“A man can’t have a spare?”
“Not when that same man said he never brought more aliases than he needed to, in case he got searched.”
I sigh. They only ever remember your advice when it’s inconvenient for you. Well, if I give her a half-truth perhaps she’ll leave me alone.
“Fine – you got me. That’s my real name. Daniel Lambert, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Now she’s staring at me. I shift it my seat. Yep, this is pretty awkward.
“But you’re Eames. You’ve always been Eames.” Cobb gives me a look like a child who’s just been told Father Christmas isn’t real. “We all use our real names.”
Arthur’s staying suspiciously quiet.
Ariadne’s looking solemnly down at her hand. She’s got my ring. She’s looking rather closely at... Oh crap! I’d forgot about-.
There’s a sharp intake of breath and I sink further into my chair. Arthur’s going to kill me.
“Eames? Or Daniel, whatever - why does your wedding ring have the names ‘Arthur Eames’ engraved on it?”
Cobb walks over to her and looks for himself. “’Arthur Eames.’ You’re right, that’s weird.”
Jesus.
I know I shouldn’t, but I need to see Arthur’s face. I need to know what he’s thinking. I turn my head. I’m not sure whether I’m more reassured or worried at his expression. Like a man facing impending doom.
Cobb has followed my gaze. You sometimes forgot he’s one of the top extractors in the business.
Before I know it, Cobb’s lunging for Arthur’s over-night bag and pulling it open.
Who on earth suggested coming straight to the warehouse from the airport? Possibly me... It’s not important.
And now Arthur, because Arthur is Arthur and will not admit defeat, has dived for Cobb. I cock my head to the side and watch the two grown men roll about on the floor, not really doing much damage. Then, I - because unlike Arthur, I know when I’m beat - stay seated while Ariadne rummages through Arthur’s abandoned bag and pulls out his wedding ring. It’s slimmer than mine, but otherwise the same.
“Ah ha!”
Arthur and Cobb break apart. Arthur stands, puts his hand out to Ariadne and assumes his – what I call – ‘I mean business’ voice.
“Ariadne. This is a matter of personal safety. Give me the ring.”
I don’t think Ariadne’s at all impressed. “Dom, would you do the honours?” She holds the ring out to Cobb, never breaking eye contact with Arthur. I must say, it is quite unnerving.
Cobb moves to examine the offending item. “’Daniel Lambert.’ What the hell Arthur? Tell us what’s going on here.”
My heart’s pounding in my chest. I catch Arthur’s eye and we both retreat to the other side of the room. “Dan, we can get out of this, make up a story. It’s what you do for christ’s sake.” Arthur is keeping a professional distance away from me, to keep up the show.
And then a thought occurs to me.
“We could, but should we?” I whisper.
Arthur frowns at me. “I don’t follow.”
I turn my body further towards him after casting a furtive look over my shoulder at Cobb and Ariadne. They’re both dutifully scowling at our backs.
“The reason neither of us has ever told anybody that we’re married is because we couldn’t trust anyone not to double cross us. Well,” I nod towards the other two, “I think we can trust them, you know?”
Arthur gazes at Cobb and Ariadne for a while then turns back to me. He gives me a small smile and nods. “Okay. Might be nice to be able to actually wear my wedding ring for once.”
As we walk back to our team, Ariadne looks at us expectantly.
I take a deep breath. “Yes. Arthur and I are together.”
“’Yes’? I can’t fucking believe it.” Cobb glares at Arthur. “You’re Eames? You two are married? Since when?”
Arthur’s still looking rather put out at being reprimanded by Cobb, but sighs dramatically and replies, “Yes, I’m Arthur Eames.” Arthur glances at me. “It’s been about seven years. It’s not-”
“Seven years!”
“-that big a deal.”
“It was a security thing,” I add, “It’s not personal. We just didn’t want people to find out and use it against us.” I turn to Arthur before ending, “You won’t tell everybody, will you?”
Cobb huffs and shakes his head.
“What are we supposed to call you now?” Ariadne asks.
“Carry on how you were,” I say. Arthur stands at my shoulder and laces our fingers together. “I like being Mr. Eames.” I smile up at Arthur, who’s smiling back.
I think I can hear Cobb glaring over the sound of Ariadne’s squeals.
I think they’ll get over it.