demanded.
“You’re the magician,” Higgins said. “Use your contacts. Find out where he keeps the stuff. Then acquire it.”
Dad composed himself, brushed a finger across his mustache. “We are not thieves,” he said. “And we are not traitors to our profession. Ellie, Ripley, let’s go.” He turned and strode toward the door.
Ripley stood to follow, but I stayed in my seat. Dad turned back to glare at me, his eyes boring a hole in my skull. Rule number two: Never tell them how it’s done. I wanted to argue with Dad, to tell him that the rules didn’t matter when our livelihood—our lives—were on the line. But I knew he wouldn’t budge.
“Now, Ellie.” He turned and stormed out.
Ripley stalled, glancing from Higgins to me.
“Damn,” Higgins said. “The old man’s ferocious.”
“You’re an asshole, Higgins,” I said.
His face flickered, and I saw a brief flash of the angry, isolated teenager he must have been. For a moment, I felt sorry for him.
Then I took a deep breath and focused on the problem at hand. Or rather, the opportunity.
“If we get it,” I said, “you’ll let us borrow the props? For free?”
Higgins put out his hand, and I stepped forward to shake it.
CHAPTER 20
I EXPECTED TO FIND DAD pacing the driveway with clenched fists; instead, he was leaning against the Hyundai, shoulders slumped, massaging his temples.
“Are you okay, Mr. Dante?” Ripley asked.
“It’s just a headache.” He looked at me, gestured at the house. “What was that about?”
“I thought maybe Higgins would respond to pleading,” I lied. “It didn’t work.”
Dad shook his head in disgust or defeat, I couldn’t tell.
I hadn’t wanted to lie—not again—but right now, Dad was too angry to be persuaded. I was going to have to solve the problem myself. Then, once I’d gotten us the props, he’d have little choice but to go along.
Ripley pulled onto Lake Mead Boulevard, and the three of us rode in silence for five minutes that felt like an hour. My head buzzed, my mind spinning this way and that like the dial on a safe as I frantically tried to find the right combination. My meds wouldn’t kick in for another three or four days, and in the meantime, I knew I couldn’t maintain this pace. I was headed for a crash—but for the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to worry about it.
As we approached Downtown, Dad turned to Ripley. “Turn left on Main.”
I looked at Dad. “Are we going to see Dr. Shah?”
He shook his head.
“We don’t have the funds. We need a place to stay, and we need a way back to Fort Wayne. I need to find work, any work, and soon. Turn left,” he said to Ripley. “We’re going to the Four Jacks.”
“What’s at the Four Jacks?” Ripley asked.
“Maybe nothing,” he said, and stared out the window.
When we arrived, Dad told us to go get something inexpensive to eat, and we’d all meet back at the car in an hour. Then he headed into the casino, and Ripley and I wandered off into Downtown Las Vegas.
This old part of Vegas was shabby but charming. Instead of blinding LED marquees, the casino signage comprised thousands upon thousands of old-school tungsten light bulbs blinking on and off in sequence, chasing one another around the edges of the signs. We found a walk-up window selling ninety-nine-cent hot dogs; I bought four and we sat down on the curb to inhale them. When I had finished scarfing down my first, I checked my phone. I had missed a call and a text from Liam.
It’s not what you think. I care about you. Please at least text me back and let me know you’re okay.
A hot ball swelled in my throat, and before I could put the phone down, Ripley had read the message.
“Whoa,” he said. “What don’t I know?”
Reluctantly, I told him about my pathetic late-night text to Liam and the phone call from his girlfriend. I left out the part about how I had melted down afterward, and I wasn’t sure why. Ripley was my best friend; I’d told him things I’d never told anyone else in the world. And yet, since he had shown up in person, things had been weird. It was almost like getting to know an entirely new person, and despite our bonding and brainstorming session, I didn’t trust this new Ripley as much as I had trusted his avatar.
“So that’s it?” he said, leaning back on his hands. “You’re just never going to talk to him again?”
I drew