“Just my brother,” he said. “His girlfriend.”
A sign for the Ringling Brothers Circus Museum conjured the image of a large statue of an elephant; Lucas imagined figures made out of wood or plastic perched on trapeze bars overhead. He hoped there’d be a big tent, a photo opportunity where you could put your face into a ring-master’s body, with a super tall hat atop it. Or maybe a midway, with funhouse mirrors, where he and Scarlett could stand side by side and be small and tall and warped like he felt inside now that he’d lied to her about Avery.
His guilt ticked up with the car’s odometer, increasing with each mile of the long drive.
And yet he kept his mouth shut.
Finally, the exit for Tarpon Springs came up and they drove down a long four-lane road lined with fast-food restaurants and motels with hourly and day rates posted on big white boards with black letters.
At a light, Scarlett turned to him and they shared a look that meant things he couldn’t articulate but mostly that they were a team. He was becoming increasingly sure that they had been in love.
And still were?
Could be again?
Had he given her the penny?
Been there with her?
HIS HANDS. HER HAIR. HER MOUTH. HER NECK.
MEMORY? FANTASY? SOURCE ERROR?
Once?
More than once?
But first this.
Daniel Orlean.
“Where do we start?” Scarlett had just parked in a municipal lot and they were heading for the main street through town.
At the top of it, an old boat sat in a canal with a display out front about the town’s history as a sponge-fishing hub. Lucas stepped up to an antique scuba suit on display and felt like he knew what the bends felt like; he’d been plunged deep into The Leaving and was now coming up out of it and into the light too quickly, without guidance. A thick rope net full of yellowed sea sponges made him wonder what his brain looked like, with holes in it that hadn’t turned up on his MRI. Holes where memories should have been.
Scarlett pointed down the road. The sign on a corner building said “McHale’s” beside a shamrock. Unlit neon signs in the window promised Miller High Life and Rolling Rock. Three empty kegs formed a line by the side door.
“Looks pretty dive-y to me.” Lucas said.
No one there knew Orlean.
No one at the next place, either.
They were on their fourth bar, and Lucas was thinking it was just about time to either give up or change strategies altogether when the bartender met eyes with him. “Sure! I remember Danny.”
AVERY
She’d forgotten entirely about Sam’s cousin’s wedding. So when Sam had called that morning and asked her if she’d come with him to pick up his suit “for later,” she’d panicked and choked and couldn’t think of an excuse. So here they were, in Men’s Wearhouse. If she’d ever been to a more depressing place, she couldn’t remember it.
Rows and rows of suits. All lined up like soldiers in some sleeping army that might at any moment come to life and attack—maybe hit her over the head with a briefcase or strangle her with neckties.
Black troops here.
Gray troops there.
Occasional AWOL brown or cream. Sam disappeared into a dressing room to try on his newly tailored suit, so she sat in a leather armchair and called Emma. There was a lot of background noise on the other end.
“Where are you?” Avery asked.”
“The mall in Bonita Springs. Oh my god, I just saw Courtney. She told me if you don’t audition, she’ll probably get the lead and I want to kill her.”
Emma said, “Yeah, just hold on a minute.” But not to Avery.
“Who are you with?”
“Just my mom and brother,” she said. “My brother who is driving me crazy.” Then after a second, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Avery said. “Tell him I said to buzz off.” The urge to cry snuck up on her and she tried to dodge it. “And listen up. You’re a way better singer than Courtney. Just make sure you project. You’ll be onstage. Not in your shower.”
“You can’t bail on this.” Emma sounded far away. “I only wanted to do it because you were doing it and it’s like the only remotely fun thing to do between now and summer vacation.”
Avery stood and started walking among the suit troops. “It just doesn’t feel like a priority right now? Things are so crazy.”
“Well, it’s good that there’s the reward now, right? It’ll be good to have answers and it seems like you’ll have them soon.”
The reward had been announced that morning; a tip line had gone live.
“And then what?” She stopped in front of a wall of ties. Men were so weird. The idea of Sam in a suit . . . something about it bothered her.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what then? When there’s not this big thing hanging over the three of us anymore.”
“You’ll get back to normal.”
“But we never really were normal.”
“Well, then you’ll become normal.”