“Would you have had him killed if it wasn’t for me?”
Cameron glanced at me meaningfully in response. A chill went up my spine. I didn’t want to
think about the alternate ending and needed to change the atmosphere.
“You’re rich, right?” I indiscreetly blurted out, trying to shock Cameron on purpose. From
the look of astonishment on his face, it had worked. I continued, “Where does all the money go?
”
“Lots of places,” he answered vaguely.
“Like?”
Cameron looked uncomfortable with my forthrightness, but, with an elongated sigh, went along
with it. “Like stocks, bonds, property. I have a bunch of bank accounts in different places
around the world.”
“So … you don’t just bury the money under the mattress like they do in movies?”
He laughed. “Actually, I do have some money buried in different spots, but none under the
mattress.”
His answers only made me more curious. “Don’t people get suspicious when you walk into a bank
with a stack of cash?”
Cameron looked at me like I was from another planet. “I never actually walk into a bank, Emmy.
Everything is done electronically. I carry very little cash on me.” From the tone of voice that
Cameron had chosen, I could tell that his explanation had been meant to explain everything. But
I didn’t understand. Somehow I couldn’t see drug users using their bank cards to buy whatever
it was they bought. As Cameron searched my face, he must have found complete confusion. He
pulled over to the side of the road and turned to me. He was procrastinating, mostly for his own
purpose, I guessed.
“Aren’t we going to be late?” I asked him.
“They won’t start without us,” he said. “You want to know how it works, don’t you?”
I nodded, and I could feel my cheeks getting warm.
“When we get the product,” he started, “it’s divided among all the leaders. They distribute
it within their gangs, and it’s subdivided several times like that until it actually hits the
streets. When it’s sold, the money is passed by the dealers through small businesses that
deposit the money into their bank accounts. Sometimes dealers will also open bank accounts in
their friends’ and family’s names and deposit small amounts there too. Where the money goes
from there gets really complicated—property, shares, and other stuff gets bought and sold. The
money changes hands so many times that, by the time it gets to us, it’s virtually impossible to
trace back to the product.”
“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”
He looked away. “I’ll be killed before I ever get caught.”
I instantly regretted asking the question.
We pulled back onto the road. Cameron didn’t volunteer anymore information and I definitely
didn’t ask any more questions. Blissful ignorance would have been better on that last point.
When we drove into the church parking lot, there were only a handful of cars parked. I asked
Cameron whether we were too early or too late. He explained that these events had to be kept
intimate so as to not attract too much attention.
The church was small and simple, with a white exterior and broken bricked pathway. It was
located off of a country road in the middle of nowhere. Mature trees surrounded the lot and a
perfectly manicured cemetery flanked it. It was a beautiful summer day. Somehow, this church,
this day was, to me, just right for our last good-byes to Rocco. Before the tears could rise,
numbness protectively swelled inside me.
I was surprised to find Cameron grab my hand as we walked up to the handful of people who had
gathered outside the door, some of whom, like Tiny, I recognized as the high-ranking guards from
the farm. Most of their names escaped me in that moment.
Everyone respectfully acknowledged Cameron right away and side-glanced me with curiosity as we
passed them, hand in hand, and entered the church. Once we stepped through the threshold, the
guards followed us and my fingers were going numb again from Cameron’s squeeze. I clenched my
teeth, trying to keep cool for the both of us.
Inside, blue and white flowers overflowed in the middle aisle and at the front of the church.
Among the petals, Rocco’s framed picture was smiling at us from the front. I had to look away.
Cameron avoided looking ahead too. There was music playing somewhere in the church.
Between the rows of wooden benches, Carly and Spider slowly walked up to us. Spider somberly
shook Cameron’s hand. Carly’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy.