Probably, but I don’t much care.
“You’re the expert. You tell me.”
He tries to pry me apart, second by glaring second. I cross my arms and let him work. If he’s looking for a soul, I haven’t one to speak of.
Or won’t, after this.
“You know,” he sets down the bracelet and leans in to sniff. “I could use someone like you. Want a job?”
I blink slow, drag out my syllables. “Bracelet.”
He waves his finger at my nose. “A bit repetitive, but honestly doesn’t give a shit. I could use you.”
I slap my hand over the bracelet on the counter, and Decker’s oily fingers cover mine. “Don’t be hasty, now. I’m just sayin’.”
He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, pulls out a transaction card, and holds it to his mouth.
“Load three hundred reds,” he says. The card’s thin flexi-digit coating flashes 3 0 0. I pull my own card out, scratched and bent at one edge, and tell it to “Find transactent.”
It blinks blue and beeps at the found signal.
“Send,” says Decker.
My card fills with numbers that calculate at speed, ending in 3 0 0. A counterpoint to his card’s three zeros.
Odd, my card still feels like the empty one. Or maybe that’s my chest, its center lost between Decker’s grubby fingers.
That’s it, then. The worst of it was done.
Decker purrs. “Excellent. I’d about given up hope of getting any money out of Ricky.”
“He’s clear?” I ask.
“He’s clear, and lucky in his choice of offspring, I must say.”
I pocket my transaction card and do not look at Yonni’s heart.
“Always a pleasure,” says Decker. “Next time we meet, try not to manhandle me.”
There won’t be a next time. My only other thing of value is the suite. If Dad screws himself over, he’ll just be screwed. I turn for the hall. “Thanks, Decker.”
“I’m serious about the job, you know. Come back anytime.”
The alley blinds me after the corridor’s dark, teeth gaping in a crooked smirk. I make a beeline for the street. Out of the underbelly and into the mouth.
“Hey!” Niles’s voice, then the boy himself jogs at my elbow. I don’t slow. We break into the street and I bound across the thoroughfare.
He keeps up. “I take it that didn’t go well.”
It went great. It went perfectly. Dad’s clear, Decker’s happy, and everything’s gone exactly to plan.
I’m going to be sick.
“Are you ever going home?” I ask.
I might not have spoken. He skips it entirely. “Decker’s bad news, you shouldn’t—”
“What?” I skid to a stop and round on him. “What is up with you? What do you want?”
“Not to end up on the wrong side of Decker. He murders people, or didn’t you know?”
“How would you end up on Decker’s wrong side?”
He leans close. “I hate to bust your bubble, but death-via-Decker breaks our contract. You want me to keep my mouth shut? Stay away from him.”
“God dammit.” I run my hands over my head, catching my hat as it slips off.
This day. Dad, this idiot, Decker—God, Decker—and Yonni’s beating heart in his grasping, oily hands.
And there’s no way in hell I can jump off ledges now, even without that stupid promise—Yonni’s ghost would find me and skin me and kick me out.
“Whoa,” says Niles.
I look around for the next neon disaster, but he’s staring at my head.
Right. The disaster that already happened.
I throw the hat against the streetside tower wall. It bounces to the cracked pavement.
“Can’t you just go home?” I ask.
His gaze never leaves my hair. “Okay, let’s go.”
“You, not me.”
His eyebrows arc, the not likely practically audible.
I move to the nearest streetlight and lean into the hot metal. Stare up into the skytowers with sharp, jagged roofs.
“This could all have been so over by now,” I say, quiet. Days over. All I had to be was faster. All I had to do was jump.
“Hey.” Niles steps closer, humor gone. “Am I really bothering you?”
“Seriously?” I ask and the exhaustion creeps in.
“Right.” For some reason, that hits home. His hands dig deep into his pockets, and for one stupid second I want to reach out and tell him it’s fine, everything’s okay.
Not a damn thing in the universe is okay.
I thump my head against the pole. “Look, it’s not you you, but I have to sort out family and you’re making it hard.”
“Was that what Decker was about?” Niles asks.
“That’s what everything is about.”
He takes in the cracked streetlight casings, the barred tower windows, me. “You know, I get it. The mom thing. My old man left me with a reputation, too, and some things you can’t live down. Sometimes you can’t see things worth living for.” His voice drops and there’s something nice about it, in whispers. A quiet register that reverberates.
“Yeah, well.” I kick at the cracks in the walkway. “This isn’t about Mom.”
I sold her off with Yonni’s heart.
We’re silent amid the lurking traffic. The sun tries to bake us on the pavement.
He checks his watch. “Breakfast is shot, so . . . lunch?”
I shake my head. “I’m not done yet.”