Jay:Okay. What happens if I don’t show up at six?
Aleeza:You will show up. The camera saw you. You’re not going to go with Jack.
He doesn’t answer for a while.
Aleeza:This isn’t a goodbye, Jay. You will be back here at six. Then just stay with me. Don’t go down to the second floor. Don’t take the hidden stairs to the back door. Don’t get on Jack’s boat. Stay here. We got this. We figured it out.
Jay:You’re right.
Aleeza:Of course I am. I’m as smart as an octopus.
Jay:Ha ha. Hey one thing, if
I wait for him to finish his sentence.
Jay:I’m really glad I met you. I hate everything that’s happened or going to maybe happen, but I got you out of it. I hope we can see each other in person one day.
I wipe the tears that are falling. He’s saying goodbye. But this can’t be a goodbye.
Aleeza:We will talk tomorrow! This isn’t a goodbye.
Jay:No, it’s not a goodbye. But if it were, I’d be saying thank you, and I’m going to miss you more than I can say.
Aleeza:Tell me that tomorrow, Jay.
Jay:Okay. And I’ll tell you now too. Thank you. I’m going to miss you. Good night Aleeza.
TWENTY-ONE
Jay leaves for his mother’s early on Sunday, but I wake up to text him anothernot a goodbyebefore he leaves. I don’t want him to go to Scarborough all day. I want him to stay right here with me, so I know he’ll be fine. Still, I understand why he needs to go. If we can’t save him from whatever will happen tonight, then he might not see his family again.
He seems more optimistic now than last night, at least.
Jay:Talk to you around six.
Aleeza:Okay. I’ll be here waiting. Make sure you come back.
Jay:Don’t worry. I’ll always come back for you.
In the afternoon, I’m working on the script for the next podcast episode when there’s a knock on my door.
I open it to find Gracie and Aster. Gracie grins at me with excitement. “Nat spotted Jack at the Laundromat.”
“He’s doing laundry?” Does Jack really do his own laundry?
“He’s not really doinglaundry,” Aster explains as she walks into my room and sits on my desk chair. She’s in workout pants and soccer shirt. “Laundromat is a secret bar. Like a speakeasy.”
I laugh. “Seriously?” We are not in the 1920s ... why are there speakeasies in the city?
“It’s not a real speakeasy,” Gracie explains. “Just a secret place.”
“You know the Laundromat near the park?” Aster asks. “There’s a beaded curtain in the back. Through there is a dive bar. Well, not really a dive bar—it’s expensive as sin.”
“It’s where rich people go to pretend they’re slumming,” Gracie adds.
“That’s nuts.”
Aster nods. “My people are weird. We should go now, before he leaves.”
