“What?”
“I said I need to get in. By the way, you look great in red.”
She freezes, then slowly looks around. “Where are you?”
“Blue F-150 across the street and to your right.”
Even from here I can see her smiling. “What are you up to?” she asks through her teeth.
“Nothing bad.”
“That’s what you said when we broke into your father’s liquor cabinet,” she whispers tightly.
“Hey, we wouldn’t have gotten caught if you hadn’t fallen down the steps.”
“You puked in my hair, Curran,” she mumbles.
“Yeah, but it was a total accident. Listen, this time I swear I mean it.”
Her date leans in and whispers something in her ear. She covers the mic and says something I don’t catch. “Curran, I don’t know. This is a private function.”
“Lety, I promise I won’t get you in trouble. But I’m serious when I say I need to get into that party. Say you’ll help me, kid.”
“Curran…”
“Come on,” I press. “You and me, we’re practically family.”
She edges to the front of the line, where her date passes security two envelopes. “Give me ten,” she says, and then disconnects.
Yeah. It’s good to have friends.
—
Lety walks out a little later, huddling in her red wool coat. She waits until several limos pull up to the curb before she crosses the street and heads to my truck. We exchange those cheek kisses we always do when she slips inside.
“Hey. You said ten. That was more like sixteen.”
She stops in the middle of fumbling through her coat. “You want my help or not, copper?”
“Okay, it was actually fifteen.” She shakes her head, smiling, and passes me a black jacket. “What’s this?”
“My boyfriend’s suit jacket. You’ll need it to get in. You’ll also need this.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out an invitation to the event. “Your name’s Brody Quaid Moore—unless you get caught. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Okay. Come on, then. I need to get back.”
“Go ahead without me. I don’t want anyone to see us together, just in case.”
She tightens her jaw. “Just in case what? Damnit, Curran. I’m here with my boyfriend and his parents. Don’t start any shit that will embarrass me in front of them.”
“Come on, Lety. When have I ever embarrassed you in front of anyone?” She looks at me. “Okay, okay. But you have to admit, Father Flanagan’s face was classic when he caught us eating all that sacramental bread.”
She opens the passenger door but doesn’t step out right away. “Brody means everything to me, Curran. If you make him look bad because of something you do, you’ll be wearing your balls like earrings, understand?”
“Nice one, Lety. I guess you can take the girl out of Philly, but you can’t—”
“Shut up, Curran. And for Christ’s sake, don’t do anything stupid.”
She walks away then and crosses the street, joining the crowd of people making their way out of their limos and into the hotel. I hop out, wait another minute or so, and join the last few stuffed coats trailing in.
It takes a while to get to the front of the line. “This really you?” the security guard asks me.
“Who else would it be?”
“Brody?” Lety calls. She waves to me from inside the lobby. She didn’t go far, probably just far enough to check her coat. She wants to make sure I make it through. She’s a good kid, that Lety.
“Brody!” she calls again, this time louder. “You’re late—your father’s waiting, babe.”
“Okay, honey.” I grin. “I’m coming.” The guard isn’t completely convinced. “Come on, pal,” I say. “My girl’s waiting and so is my dad.”
Another security guard leans in to examine the invitation. I think there’s going to be trouble until he blows out a breath. “That there’s Brody Quaid Moore. You better let him in.”
And right on cue, Lety calls out again. “Brody!”