She rubs her nose against mine and grins up at me. “You might have to keep the stache. I’m kind of getting attached.”
“Goldie will disown me if I keep it. She says it’s giving a 1985 gym teacher vibe.”
Lola bursts out laughing.
“She says since we’re twins, I’m making her ugly by association. Which just isn’t right—it’s not like we’re identical!”
Lola laughs harder, and I have to keep going—it’s too fun to make her laugh.
“She says I look like someone who’s been asked to leave White Castle.”
Lola gasps, her eyes bulging.
“I know, right? I thought that was going too far too.” I start laughing again. “She said, ‘Tully, my future children will have your genes, and I really need you to think about that.’”
When I pull off Goldie’s voice a little too accurately, Lola clutches her stomach, she’s laughing so hard.
“You might have to keep it, just so Goldie can keep working on her material,” she manages to get out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DOLLAR SIGNS
LOLA
I’m in my office between clients, eating a sad lunch of pieced-together leftovers. I dumped a little bit of this, a little bit of that in one bowl, and it’s not terrible, but not great.
I get a FaceTime call from Wade—or, as I have him named in my phone, Pedro Pascal—right as I’m deciding not to eat the last piece of indistinguishable meat, and I answer.
“Hi, Lola.” His voice is warm but businesslike.
“Hi, Wade.”
“I’m trying to get Tully on here too. One sec.”
Tully picks up and grins wide when he sees me. He’s in a hotel room in St. Louis, I believe, sitting on the edge of a bed in a T-shirt and sweats, hair still damp from what I assume is a post-practice shower. I drink him in.
“Hey, Trouble,” he says.
“Hey,” Wade says, and there’s a pause. “Oh, wait, was that not meant for me?”
We all laugh.
“Hello, Wade,” Tully says.
“Hello. Thank you for making time, guys,” Wade says. “I want to be clear about a few things before I share what I’ve found. Nothing moves forward without your explicit agreement, and you are not obligated to do anything with this information.”
“Okay,” I say.
“I started where Tully asked me to start,” Wade says. “Property holdings and LLC registrations connected to Daniel in the New York metro area going back seven years.” He pauses. “It’s taken several days to work this out. The two buildings Lola was displaced from several years back were owned by different property management groups.” He looks up from whatever he’s reading. “Different names. Different registered agents. Different addresses.”
“But?” Tully says, because there is very clearly abutcoming.
“But they have the same parent company,” Wade says. “A holding company called Crestline Asset Management, registered in Delaware…anda secondary address in Minneapolis, Minnesota.”
I stare at the screen.
“Fuck. Is it him?” Tully says.
