“For how long?” she whispered.
“Until things die down a little. Until it all blows over and people forget about it. When it’s safe, I’ll let you go, but you can’t stay around here.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“You said something about no one looking for you? How’s that possible?”
“I’m homeless, Nate. I don’t have parents or siblings, and I made sure not to make any friends. Until last night, I guess. So no. There’s no one. At least that’s one less thing you have to worry about, right?” She seemed to move closer somehow, closer than the walls caving in on me.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Nearly eighteen, I think.”
“And how long have you been homeless?”
“Since I was fifteen.” She sat up straighter. “Nate?”
“Yeah?” I answered, unable to look at her.
“Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it. I don’t want you getting hurt. Not over me. Thank you for everything.”
*
Tiny returned with the materials we needed to screw shut the windows. He must’ve thought a lot about the plan because he removed the aerial cable from the TV and disconnected the antenna from the stereo. “It’s better she not know any of what’s going on outside these walls, just in case she gets ideas or gets spooked. News reports can fuck people up.”
I nodded and looked over at her closed bedroom door.
“Did you speak to her?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“What did she say?”
“Thank you.”
“She’s something else.”
No shit, I thought. “Any information released about last night?”
Tiny finished drilling the last screw in place and, with more effort than seemed necessary, got up from his kneeling position and threw himself on the couch, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he did. “Cops got called out because of the gun going off. So far—nothing. Just some punk kid who OD’d in his car.”
“That’s good, right?”
“I guess,” he huffed out, trying to catch his breath. “But seeing the blood on her last night, there’s bound to be more of it out there. It’s just a matter of time.” He clutched his hand to his heart and attempted to sit up straighter. “When this is over, will you hit the gym with me? I feel like the donuts I ate three days ago are wrapped around my heart.”
“You got it, man,” I said over my shoulder, moving to my room. “I’ll get dressed. Then we’ll see Uncle Benny. Get it over with.”
*
Uncle Benny sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as if he was Marlon Brando in The goddamn Godfather. “PJ says—”
“PJ’s a dick.”
Clearly frustrated, Benny thumped his fist on his desk. “I don’t want to hear this shit, Nate. He’s going around calling my number two a *. He’s telling people he doesn’t believe you had the balls to take care of it.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s done.”
“How? Where did you do it?”
“She’s in the same place as Pauly. With the fish.”
“She’s dead?” he asked, his tone flat.
“Why are you questioning me?”
“Do I have a reason to?”
“Uncle Benny, you’ve known me since I was born. My dad and you—you were brothers. You accusing me of breaching your trust—of dishonoring The Family—it’s a fuckin’ joke. I’ve given everything to this job since I was sixteen. While kids my age were screwing around, I was helping you build this empire. I don’t deserve this shit, especially from you. And you know that.”
I didn’t wait for a reply; I just stormed out of his office and into Tiny’s waiting car. I’d lied through my teeth, but the shit I’d said was what was expected of me—a controlled facade and indestructible armor.
Only it wasn’t indestructible.
And the girl in my house was proof of that.
10
Nate
Two weeks.
That’s how long we’d been living under the same roof, barely breathing a word to each other. During the day, I’d go to work, set up meets, and organize the next round of supplies. Before she moved in, I’d occasionally work from home, crunch numbers from the comfort of my couch, but having her here made it seem like I was doing something wrong. Technically, I was. But it had never even occurred to me until there was a threat of someone knowing my business. Plus, being out and about meant I was able to keep my eyes and ears open. I needed to know if any more suspicions were raised or if PJ was still talking shit.
So, for two weeks we tiptoed around each other. Every night I’d come home, and she’d be in her room, wearing my clothes, under the covers but wide awake. I’d bring her food. We’d eat in silence. And every night, I’d go to sleep wondering what the hell was going on in her pretty little head, and why it was I could never get the nerve to ask.