It was too soon to say anything like that, but it was true.
I kissed her before she could object or confirm, and she pushed against me. Her fingers ran through the hair on the back of my neck, and I dug my hands under the back of her shirt.
“Uh, hey?” We separated at the words and found Phin poking his head in. “I’m getting on the internet to research. Go on with whatever you were doing.”
“Wait,” I said as he was trying to get away. “I have to go somewhere. Emily’s going to hang out with you.”
“Okay.” His cartoonish effort to look nonchalant made him seem completely disrupted. He ran off.
“He’s a little . . .” I drifted off.
“Normal?”
“Just a little.”
“Go, please. If you still need to go, just go.”
I kissed her one more time and left.
CHAPTER 46
EMILY
I peeked in on Phin. He sat in front of a huge screen filled with alphabet soup, if the alphabet included all the characters in the corners of the keyboard.
Going back to the kitchen in silence, I wondered what Carter was doing in my house. There had been no way of talking him out of going back to my place.
It was never going to be over. Vince was tenacious and bored. If he had any romantic prospects, he wasn’t following up. I didn’t believe no woman could match me. I believed I was his muscle memory. I was his automatic fixation when he felt bad or good or bored or needy. Or maybe he obsessed over me in the in-between times.
I didn’t know. I’d never know.
Could I leave? Could I just walk away? Slip into anonymity? I’d thought about it so many times and in so many ways. Everything from going back to Chicago to live near my parents to driving until I stopped in the Middle of Somewhere, USA.
My imagination never got far. Dancing for a living was a privilege given to very few, and I loved it. I was honored to do what I wanted, to live the dream of so many. Darlene was a huge part of that success, and she lived in Hollywood because that was where her business was.
My dream was coming at a price. As long as I was in Los Angeles, I was going to be a target, and as long as I was a target, I would never be free. Would never be able to have a relationship and, by extension, a husband and children.
I tried not to think about that. I usually drowned out that sorrow in dance or music. I could go to a party with Darlene or work until my feet turned to leather.
“Hey.” Phin poked his head in the kitchen doorway. I was cradling a cup of tea like a handful of shiny coins.
“Hey.”
He bopped in, opened the fridge, and spent way too long deciding to take out a carton of milk. He just stood there with the milk as the fridge door closed. He was an open book. Didn’t have a sneaky bone in his body. I knew exactly what he was thinking.
“I know I’m not your dad, but I’m a snitch. You should use a glass.”
He flopped to the cabinet as if his limbs were loosely attached. He had freckles and angular features. I could see a touch of Carter in him and another, less robust person. He poured the milk into a short glass, letting a splash land on the counter when he tipped the carton back up.
Without cleaning up or putting the carton away, he slugged the milk, ending with an ahh.
“Liquid gold.” He poured another cup and put the carton away.
“What are you doing up there?” I handed him the kitchen rag. He looked at it, then back at me. I pointed to the splash of milk on the counter.
“I have a family tree project I need to get an A on.” He took the rag.
“Ah. Sounds like fun.”
He wiped the counter without cleaning up all the milk. I couldn’t have done such a bad job of it if I tried.
“It’s not when your father and your grandmother are telling you a bullshit story about your mother.”
I took the rag and wiped up the spill properly. Was he allowed to say bullshit? Seemed unlikely.
“I doubt that.”
“Yeah, well, the name they gave me isn’t on any of the birth certificate records at city hall.”
“Maybe she wasn’t born in LA.”
“Dad said she was.”
“Are you supposed to be looking in the public record or taking your father’s word for it?” I ran my fingers along the edges of the wet cloth.
He shrugged and went for the door. He seemed so dejected. As if he’d hit a roadblock, asked for help, and no one came to his aid.
Before he turned the corner, I spoke up. “You should look at your own birth certificate.”
“Good idea,” he called back, not slowing down a bit. Carter texted me just as I was folding up the dishrag.
—How are you doing?—
Did I want to bring up the conversation with Phin? No. I couldn’t. His mother’s family history wasn’t my business.
—Your son just drank half a gallon of milk. Pick up more on the way home— —Wow. This relationship devolved really quickly—
I laughed.
—I better think quick—
( . . . )
—I can’t wait to see the contents of that La Perla bag on the floor— —Appropriately sexy—
—Great—
—I’ll pick up milk—
—How is my house?—
—Intact. We’re going to make it safe again. Promise— Something thumped upstairs. I pocketed the phone and went up.
“Phin? You all right?”
“Yeah.”
The stairwell was lined with photos. I stopped at Carter’s police academy portrait. What a sexy bastard. The rest were the same three people I’d seen on the mantel: Phin, Dad, Grandma. Was Mom ever in the picture?
“I’m coming up to check on you.”
“End of the hall.”
I passed Carter’s room and tried not to linger. I wanted to see if his pillow smelled of gunpowder, check his closet for ephemera and memories. Was that a little fifth of July coming out of the room? I stopped and took a deep breath.
“Hey,” Phin said from down the hall.
“What happened?” I tore myself away from the plaid bedspread and rich russet woods. “I heard a thump.”
“Fell off the ball.” He indicated his room, where a huge blue yoga ball sat in front of a desk with a large-screen computer. “It happens. I’m a little clumsy.”
On the screen, a set of windows was open, and inside one of the windows, text scrolled and scrolled. It didn’t look like a family tree. He saw me looking and shifted in front of it.
“Whatcha doing?” I stepped forward to see the screen. I had no interest in exposing misbehavior. I was just curious.
“Running a script. It’s nothing.”
“Wow.” I peered over his shoulder. “That looks really cool.”
He brightened, then shrugged dismissively. “Just a little something.”
“What’s it do?”
He was so expressive with his face and body I could almost read volumes from the shape of his mouth and the way he waved his hands. His body and face contorted to say, I shouldn’t tell you, but I really want to.
“Is it anything to do with the present on the thumb drive? I loved that.”
He brightened again. This kid was jumping out of his skin.
“I’ll tell you, but just tell me you know what a white hat is?”
“A white hat? It’s a white hat.”
“No. A white hat is a hacker who hacks for good and never steals or anything.”