The Cost of All Things

Since the store was such a crowded, confusing labyrinth, there was a real chance someone could walk off with half the inventory without any of us noticing. But instead of cleaning it up and organizing it—because god forbid the Waters clan attempt anything that ambitious—we installed more and more cameras. They peeked around all the many corners and into each of the several dead ends. A flat-screen monitor displayed a grid with all the angles.

 

Ari wandered from aisle to aisle, sometimes in circles, looking around with a pathetic expression on her face. I smiled. She’d been here countless times, but she could never seem to figure it out. No way she’d find me without some help. I flipped on the intercom. “Right at the sandpaper.” She jumped, stumbled, but made the right. “The door’s to the left of the paint chips.”

 

She hopped from box to box on the monitor and a couple seconds later she was standing in person in the doorway to the shop. My good mood from the morning must’ve been stronger than I thought because I was glad to see her. It didn’t hurt to look at her, to be reminded of Win, because I was already thinking of Win. Instead, it was like an old friend who I hadn’t seen in ages stopping by.

 

Which she was, actually. Maybe Diana was right and I should’ve been talking to her this whole time.

 

Thinking of Diana, though, my stomach sank. Ari had to be there because of all the time I’d been spending with Diana. I had been repeatedly and emphatically warned away from Diana more times than I could count, and I didn’t care to get into the same discussion again.

 

So I took my time as I switched off the welder and pushed it back into its cage, clanging the chain-link door shut behind it and locking it. Then I flipped up my visor and tossed the last bong onto the floor with the others. She flinched at the sound.

 

I remembered what Diana said about Ari being scared to come in to the store. I figured only Diana herself would make her do it.

 

“Ari Madrigal,” I said, drawing it out. “The fuck are you doing here?”

 

She looked around the shop, gaze lingering on the bongs and the mess I’d made. Her ultrastraight hair, normally so razor-edged, had gotten raggedy at the ends, and she held one wrist with the other as if she was taking her own pulse. She was still pretty in that small, delicate, deceptive way, but I never understood what it was that made Win so crazy about her. One time I saw her point her foot all the way over her head, so maybe it was a ballet thing.

 

“Hello to you, too, Markos,” she said pleasantly.

 

“Where’ve you been?”

 

“Oh, everywhere. I’m a social butterfly.”

 

“Is that right?”

 

“Yeah, and I’ve taken up knitting. I’m fabricating doghouses for homeless dogs.”

 

“Nice to see you working for the less fortunate.”

 

“It’s an important charity. They’re doing such vital work in the area of knitted domesticated animal enclosures.” She shifted on the balls of her feet. “I’ve been meaning to call.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Well. You could’ve called me.”

 

“Why? So you could recruit me to knit?” She half shrugged. I pressed on. “Or so we could cry together? I dunno, you made it pretty clear at the funeral you weren’t into talking about Win, but you know, the knitting sounds great, go ahead and sign me up for six.” I yawned, stretching my hands over my head. “Why are you here, Ari?”

 

She straightened her shoulders, which was odd because she usually didn’t need to. I prepared myself. Stay away from Diana. Stop messing with her head. What’s your evil plan? But there was nothing she could make me do. I was ready. I was reminded of my brothers giving me advice at breakfast: They thought they knew what was going on, and they gave advice to control me. But they didn’t and they couldn’t.

 

“I need to borrow five thousand dollars,” she said finally.

 

All the air whooshed out of me, but the next second I was back, mental guard in place. “Ha ha,” I said. “Those dogs need a lot of yarn.”

 

“I’m not joking. I need it. I’m sorry to ask you, but I didn’t know who else—”

 

“I’m not a bank,” I said.

 

“I know. But you have the, uh, pipe sideline—and the store—”

 

“It’s my mom’s store. What the hell do you need five thousand dollars for?”

 

“I can’t tell you.”

 

“That worked for Win, but it won’t work for you.”

 

Her forehead crinkled. “What do you mean it—oh. He got it from you.” She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. “Shit.”

 

Of course Ari knew about Win’s borrowed cash. I’d thought I was the only one he told, but that was stupid of me. “He didn’t tell you where the money came from?”

 

She hesitated, and then shook her head. “No.”

 

Great. I got cut out of the story entirely. “Did he tell you what it was for?”

 

“No.”

 

At least he hadn’t told her that; I would’ve felt like a complete chump if she knew that and I didn’t. “This is an amazing coincidence, isn’t it? Both of you asking me for the exact same amount of money.” I kicked the locker next to my workbench and the lid fell down and snapped shut. “I guess I know what you both think of me. Thought of me.”

 

“Please, Markos. You know I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.”

 

“And what’s so important?”

 

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