When I got home hours later, I went to check in on Cleo. As I stood there in her darkened bedroom, I panicked; my first thought was that the streaks across her face and sheets wereblood. But when I flipped on the lights, I quickly realized my mistake: She’d taken the truffles to bed and fallen asleep while eating them. The whole box.
And I’ll never forget how I felt: paralyzed.
Cleo was supposed to defy me: She was a child. And yet in that moment, I knew I’d never survive the gray zone of adolescence—the years during which she’d push back against me by doing deliberately bad, dangerous things. In the end, of course, I’d been right. I had not survived. Cleo and I had not.
I stopped walking a few blocks from the Box, dropped down on the stoop of a stately brownstone next to the Waverly Inn.
There was no getting around it now—Cleo and Kyle were mixed up together again, the handoff at the gym probably to avoid her being seen at Kyle’s apartment. Despite the fact that I’d personally made it crystal clear to Kyle that he was never to see Cleo again.
I hadn’t gone alone when I went to deliver my warning. He would have easily dismissed me as Cleo’s annoying but harmless mom. Seargant Mitch McKinney had agreed to stand behind me looking imposing, but not in uniform, of course, when I knocked on Kyle’s door. Stand there, but that was it. And only because Cleo might be in danger. Because Sergeant McKinney didn’t have probable cause to be threatening Kyle in an official capacity. He didn’t even want to know the details, nor was he happy to be there. But I’d written McKinney the recommendation that he credited with getting him into Fordham Law School. His affection for me ran deep. But it was thanks to the hundred-dollar bill I had on me that we sailed past Kyle’s doorman in his absurdly fancy building without calling up first.
“Where the fuck have you been, Tebow?” Kyle shouted as he swung open his apartment door. He made a face when he saw us. “Who the hell are—”
“Stay away from Cleo McHugh,” I said.
Kyle’s expression flipped from confused to dismissive. Then his eyes flicked in McKinney’s direction, totally unfazed. “Fuck off.”
I stepped closer. “Go anywhere near Cleo again,” I said, “and you’ll end up in jail.”
Kyle squinted, inspecting my face.
“Holy shit, are you her mom?” And then he laughed as he dug in his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He stuck one in his mouth, lit it, and inhaled.
“Yes, I’m her mom.”
“And you actually think Cleo cares what you want?” He exhaled right in my face. “Cleo hates you. She thinks you’re a fucking bi—”
In one swift movement, Sergeant McKinney had Kyle by the throat, jacked up against the wall. “Listen, you little shit,” I said. “Stay away from her, or we’ll come back and see to it you do.”
At the time, the threat had appeared to work—Kylehadvanished. I’d followed Cleo some and had never seen her go near his apartment again. But it took me a while to shake the look in Kyle’s eyes as we were leaving. Like he wanted me dead. Like he’d happily do it himself. I wondered now if I’d underestimated the danger he posed. Maybe he’d been playing some kind of long game and had roped Cleo in again—but this time for revenge.
I was going to have to figure out a way to warn her. I had to try at least. I pulled out my phone.
How’s it going?I texted her.
Three little dots appeared. I blinked, but they were still there. Cleo hadn’t responded in so long and this time right away?
OK.
Could we meet for coffee?I typed.
Why?
I’d love to see you.You know, casual. Like we hadn’t been estranged for months.
There was a long delay. Perhaps thatlovehad been too much.
Maybe next week.
Can we do it sooner? There’s something I need to tell you.
Tell me now.
In person. I need to tell you in person.This was true. It was too much to explain in a text. It would sound too bad.
Srsly?
I could come to your dorm?
