“That can’t be true, Reese. Only I knew where it was. And I only told one person. You.”
“Anyone could have found it!” I snap. “It doesn’t—”
“I need it,” he interrupts, eyes flashing desperately. “Look at me! They fucking shanked me!”
My fingers curl into my palms, digging into the torn flesh, making it burn. “Did it never occur to you to warn me that there was someone out there who might want to shank you? Who might want to shank me?”
Some of the fight goes out of him, and he finally sees past the clumsy makeup. “What did they do to you?”
“You did it,” I bite out. “You sent Chris after me. You’re the only one who knows where I work. Where I live. When I visit. You told him where to find me. Here. The Food Bank. You gave him my address. You started this mess and you dragged me into it. You ruined your life trying to help Alex, and then you ruined mine.”
“Pieces, no—”
The heart monitor starts to beep a little louder.
“You care about that money more than you care about me.”
“I need it, sweetie. We can—”
“You never needed anything. You had enough!” I snap, my voice breaking. “You had everything. We had everything. And it wasn’t enough for you. It was never enough.”
“Whatever you did with it—” he begins, eyes widening as I shake my head. There’s something in his stare now, something desperate, something removed from the father I know. Something that says the money is what he really loves, that three years in prison hasn’t taught him anything.
Well, it’s taught me lots.
The media says I’m like my father. That I’m selfish and I’m mean.
If they only knew.
I lean in close, my lips next to his ear, the words only for him. “It’s gone,” I whisper.
“Reese, honey—”
“I burned it.”
“No, you—”
“I took it out to the forest, I dug a hole, and I watched it burn.”
“I don’t—”
“You made this mess,” I tell him, backing away. “You clean it up.”
The heart monitor starts a frantic, high-pitched squeal, and I back away slowly, my father’s eyes widening as he reaches for me. Hilroy and the guards burst in, and I cover my face and burst into tears. “Help him!” I cry. “Help him, I don’t know what’s happening!”
Two nurses and a doctor rush in, and Hilroy guides me to the side, awkwardly patting my arm as I look on in faux concern. We always joked that I got my father’s talent for money and Alex got our mother’s gift for performing, but it turns out we got an even split, right down the middle.
20
I LINGER IN THE HOSPITAL waiting area until a group of nurses leaves for lunch, then slip into the crowd alongside them. I take the bus three stops past my apartment, then get off and walk back. I don’t see anyone following me, but I also don’t care. If this is my last time strolling these streets, I want to take them in. Holden is the only home I’ve ever known, and I want to remember the way the sun glints off the buildings, the way the sea of business people swallows you whole, the way it’s so easy to blend into the insufferable swarm if you just try.
I buy a bottle of cheap wine and duck into a random parking garage, stripping off my nurse’s scrub top and throwing it under a car so I’m in a plain black T-shirt. In the next garage, I lose the pants. Now I’m in black leggings.
I say goodbye to the wig in the third garage and arrive in my own parkade dressed only as myself. I take the elevator all the way to the roof and sit on the ledge, my feet dangling. I twist the top off the bottle and toss the tin cap over the edge, watching it disappear. I’m going to hell for a lot more than littering.
I close my eyes and feel the sun on my face as I drink. I think about the Food Bank and Rodney and Lyla and Hilroy and Mr. Pedersen. I think about how when I lost my old life, I never got to say goodbye. I tried, but no one would speak to me. There’ll be no goodbyes this time, either, but at least it’s on my terms.
I gaze north toward the cemetery, the grassy block obscured by gleaming office towers, the Carone logo glinting gold in the light. I think about my mother and