A moment later, my phone buzzes.
“That’s good news,” Carson says. He’s somewhere busy. I can barely hear him over the surrounding voices. “I’m glad to hear you’re making progress. I did wonder if you were worth my investment.”
“Yeah, well, speaking of investments, I should get paid for this.”
“You haven’t brought me anything yet.”
“I could testify I was recruited for a credit card scam.”
“Would you?”
“If you needed me to.” Which is a long way of saying no. It’s one thing to narc on Tate in secret. It’s a very different thing to come into the open. Carson can’t protect me from that sort of backlash. I have to live with these people. My mom, Emily, Paul have to live with them too.
I reach my driveway and turn toward our trailer, feeling like someone let all the air out of me. I want so much more than this. It feels like it’s going to drive me crazy sometimes. Or crush me. The jobs, my mom, school . . . it’s like a boulder on my chest. Every day it gets heavier and running from it seems easier. Better.
The curtain above the kitchen sink flutters and my mom’s face appears at the glass, watching me closely. I wish she wanted more. I want my mom to want something for herself. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel guilty sometimes for having dreams: college, art, just getting out of here. It feels like I’m betraying her somehow. She’d be alone and I know she can’t stand that, but I can’t stand staying here.
Carson clears his throat. “Anything else, son?”
“You want me to continue”—I put my back to my mom—“you have to keep paying so I can.”
The detective laughs. Anyone listening on his end would think we were having the time of our lives.
“Fair enough,” he says, the noisy background quiet now. He must have moved to a bathroom, because his voice suddenly echoes. “Just remember, if the girl is there, I want to know. Immediately.”
“What do you want with Wick anyway? You’d have better luck nailing her father,” I say, not adding, If you could catch him. “Everyone knows he runs things—”
“And through Wicket, I’ll find Tate. If she’s there, I want you to use that. Get her to trust you. Find out everything you can.”
“She might not know anything. You just have a hunch.”
“Is there some sort of problem, son?”
“No.”
“Good. Do what I tell you then. I’ll be in touch.”
I disconnect, turning around to see my mom still at the window. I’m too far away to gauge her mood, feel like I’m walking into the kitchen blind, but she doesn’t ask about the phone call or why I took so long in our driveway, and I spend most of the night doing homework so we don’t have to talk.
She goes to bed around midnight and I stay up, working through chemistry homework until I want to drop. In fact, I’m almost asleep when the text from Joe comes through:
We start tomorrow
10
I’m up for the rest of the night. Mostly, it’s because I need to tailor the new firewall program for Joe, but it’s also because of her. What happens if Wick isn’t there and I don’t get Carson what he wants?
Worse, what happens if she is there? Could I really get her to trust me . . . and then turn her in?
I unplug the thumb drive from my computer and pocket it. I want to say yes. Of course, I could. There’s my mom to think about, our bills, my future. This isn’t personal, but it feels personal when I pull into Bender’s driveway the next day after school.
I park my bike near the beaten-up Accord, take a deep breath before climbing the porch steps. I’m nervous and it’s aggravating. This is just like any other job.
Except this boss is known for hurting people, and if I mess up—I give myself a shake. I won’t mess up.
The door’s cracked open and I walk straight in. The foyer smells like old pizza and canned air, and for a moment, all I can see is Joe . . . and then I see Wick.
Her eyes are so light they’ve gone colorless again and it feels like a wrecking ball to my chest.
“Do you have the new firewall program?” Joe asks, stepping into my line of vision.
I nod and pull the thumb drive from my pocket, handing it to him. He plugs it into one of the laptops on the coffee table, giving everyone plenty of time to stare at each other while he scrolls through my files.
Guess this is the time I should look at Wick and act surprised?
Our eyes meet and she flinches, focuses on Joe. Guess we’re not saying hi. That’s fine. I’m not sure I could manage it anyway. As far as I can tell, there’re just the four of us: Joe, Wick, and some thin girl I’ve never seen before. If Tate’s coming, he’s late.
“Nice,” Joe says at last, exiting the final file and looking at me. “Good to know Paul doesn’t lie about everything.”