Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘Not just your mom. From Shereene too,’ Digby says.

‘Her too? What does he spend it on? He has no hobbies. His favorite thing to do is yell at people, and that he gets paid to do at work,’ I say. ‘I mean, he likes to eat, but he mostly binge-eats Nutella and that’s only, like, seven bucks at the bodega.’

‘He’s a dragon with a cave of riches he doesn’t want to share. He’s a hoarder, but because he hoards money, it’s classy and no one thinks it’s weird,’ Digby said. ‘You’re the princess he wants to drag into his lair. Stealing you back from your mom would really round out his collection.’

‘Great,’ I say. ‘How’d you know about Shereene’s diamond?’

‘Well, I actually saw that her bag and watch were fakes first, then I worked backward from there,’ Digby says. ‘So, what? No Prentiss? When’d you decide that?’

‘I didn’t say no Prentiss ever. I just don’t want to go there on his terms.’

‘So until then, you’ll stay here?’

‘I guess. At least I won’t be bored with you around,’ I say. ‘But then, how are you going to top blowing up a house and busting up a meth ring?’

‘I don’t know … I’ll think about it when I get back.’

‘Get back? From where?’

‘I have an appointment in Texas.’

‘Appointment?’

Suddenly, a burly dude in a suit and a buzz cut pokes his head in the door.

All I’m wearing is a paper-thin hospital gown. ‘Hey!’ I yell. I pull the sheet around my chest even though he isn’t looking in my direction at all.

The guy spots Digby, ducks back out, and says, ‘He’s here, Miss Miller.’

In comes not Marina (who I expect to see bearing flowers and a THANK YOU balloon), but her hatchet-faced sister, Ursula. Chop-chop-chop in my direction. Her face softens when she turns to Digby. Him, she’s happy to see.

‘So this is where you’re hiding,’ Ursula says. ‘I thought maybe you’d left town already, but then … you wouldn’t get far without this, I suppose.’

She’s wearing a trench coat and carrying a small metal suitcase. She looks like she’s playing I Spy dress-up. I yelp when Ursula plops the suitcase on my legs. She snaps it open to reveal stacks of bills bound and labeled $5000.

Ursula watches me watch her unpack the money into a pyramid. She does the rich person thing of gloating at the astonishment their money elicits. ‘One hundred thousand.’

‘It should only be ninety-five,’ Digby said.

‘Mother said to consider your advance a bonus,’ Ursula said. She picks up one bound stack, runs her fingertip across it, and sucks on the paper cut it gives her. ‘Ouch. Brand-new, like you wanted. Why did it have to be all new?’

‘Because it would be gross to roll around in a bed of dirty bills,’ Digby says.

‘One hundred thousand dollars? For what?’ I say.

‘Your Girl Friday didn’t know about the money? So she got herself blown up for what?’ Ursula openly laughs at me. ‘Oh, I see … I hope it’s requited.’

‘What’s going on?’ I say.

‘My mother offered a hundred thousand for getting my sister out of there without anyone knowing she was ever with that scumbag,’ Ursula says. ‘We took care of John too, by the way. He’ll never tell now.’

John. Sloane’s driver who suddenly quit his job before the dance.

‘Took care of him?’ With these people, I had to check.

‘He’s my driver now,’ Ursula said.

‘And Sloane, Bill, and Felix never actually saw her,’ Digby said.

‘But Henry and I did. Are we supposed to lie to the police?’ Under my breath, I add, ‘Again?’

‘Not technically lie to the police. Erasing Marina doesn’t substantially change our story,’ Digby says.

‘Sharesies with your friends, then?’ Ursula says.

‘I don’t want your money,’ I say. What the hell. I guess today’s the day I turn down stuff.

‘As you like,’ Ursula says. ‘It was worth every cent just to see Marina on a scooter with that ridiculous ape. Where’d you find him?’

‘He’s kinda like the UPS guy in my economy,’ Digby says. ‘He’ll deliver anything for anyone anywhere.’

‘That was Alistair you called when the ambulances came?’

‘You know I was always going to split the money with you, right?’ Digby says.

‘Ohh … that’s why you didn’t tell anyone there was a reward,’ I say.

‘I told Henry,’ he says.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ I realize Ursula is watching, loving it. I scrape together all the dignity I have left and ask her, ‘Is there anything else you need?’

Ursula snorts to convey how ridiculous it is that I think I can dismiss her, but she starts to leave anyway. To Digby, she says, ‘Maybe I’ll call you again sometime.’