I fill her in. DJ eats peanuts as she listens, piling shells in front of her.
“Ignore him,” DJ says. “Try not to take it personally.”
Why does everyone keep saying that?
“Hard not to take it personally when he said I, personally, was annoying.” I stare into my drink, watching the amber liquid catch the dim bar light.
“Why do you care what he thinks so much?” DJ asks, tilting her head at me.
I open my mouth to answer, but all the words I planned to say disappear. WhydoI care? Donny isn’t going to fire me, so why does it matter if Nico likes me or not?
It’s not about Nico at all.
“I want to belong here.”
My voice comes out so small I can barely hear myself, probably because even my body knows how humiliating that is to say out loud. I had three foster homes give me up because my grief was too heavy, and they didn’t know what to do with me. I felt like I was walking around with a thundercloud hanging over my head, dumping rain onto me and everyone around me. In high school, I ended conversations every time I walked into a room. All the friends I had before the murders stopped reaching out because they didn’t know how to talk to me. The only people in my foster homes who’d engage with me were Maya, even when I wished she’d stop asking me so many questions, and Tori.
Tori was one of those girls who was quick to call me a friend any time she wanted someone to sneak out of the house with, or someone to go with her to meet older guys who’d trade pills for whatever Tori was willing to do. She would tell me to wait in the living room, and I’d sit there staring at water stains on the ceiling, trying not to listen to anything happening on the other side of the bedroom door, until I gave in to her pleading that we’d get more if I joined her. I did everything Tori told me to do for those men, because at least when I was thinking about them, I wasn’t thinking about how much I didn’t want to be alive anymore. Now Tori won’t even reply to my texts.
Dylan only wanted me for one thing. Ray only hired me because of Dad. I thought I’d found something here that I was actually good at, but apparently, even when I’m useful, I’m still too much of a disaster to want around.
DJ’s eyes go soft in that way that means she feels sorry for me, and I want to crawl under the bar. I need another drink and for her to stop looking at me like I’m a kicked puppy.
“You do belong here,” she says. “Nico is just going through a hard time right now.”
“Why are you defending him?” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.
“I’m not defending him, I’m just—” DJ pops a peanut into her mouth, rolling it around like she’s working out how to say something hard. “There are things you don’t know about him.”
“Such as?”
DJ sighs and braces her elbows on the bar, resting her face in her hands. “Donny’s dying.”
I pause with the glass on my lips. “What?”
“He has stage four pancreatic cancer. Was diagnosed a month ago—the doctors gave him three months to live. Donny’s basically Nico’s dad, so Nico is taking the news hard. Donny wants this work to continue after he’s gone, so he’s been training Nico to take over as the boss.”
Oh.
Poor Nico. Dad died suddenly, which was its own type of awful that I’ll never come back from, but I can’t imagine watching someone you love die over months. To know exactly how much time you have left and watch it drain away like sand through your fingers.
It takes a couple more seconds for the full meaning behind her words to sink in. Nico doesn’t need to change Donny’s mind about me. He can fire me himself in a couple of months.
Fuck this. Fuck all of this.
This is so fucking stupid. I can’t believe the one time I find something that I might actually be good at, it gets yanked away because the guy in charge thinks I’m annoying.
“Nico won’t fire you,” DJ’s voice cuts through my spiral. “You’re too powerful to ever get rid of.”
I want to believe her. I want to believe her so badly, but the whiskey’s making everything feel too big and too close at the same time.
“Nico was begging Donny to let him leave, like he was trapped or something.” I stop, not sure how to ask this without sounding paranoid. “Is there a reason Donny won’t let him go?”
“Donny just needs him here because we have an active case,” DJ says. “It’s not a good time for Nico to take off—especially not when we’re this close to narrowing down suspects. You can’t let Nico’s mood swings get in the way of you doing your job.”
“I’m not trying to?—”
“I know,” DJ stops me. “I’m just saying this job is bigger than him.” DJ peels the label off her beer bottle in one long strip, then releases a long sigh. “I started dating this boy when I was fifteen. Cody.”
