Darcy scoffed. “Dude, if that happened, I would never tell Luke. I’d keep the money and pretend it didn’t exist. If I told him, it would be suspicious as hell.”
I flicked the butt of my cigarette into the can and blew a cloud of smoke into the frigid air. He was right, but it might still work. “Let’s pretend you’re a saint. No. Better yet. Let’s pretend you’re dumb as rocks and don’t know what to do with this envelope full of cash. You can even ask him if you can keep it. Would he meet with you to pick it up?”
“No. He would give me a drop location and tell me to leave the cash there, and he would collect it later.”
“I can work with that.”
“He’ll know something’s up. I can’t cross this guy. He’d kill me, and I need the money.”
“You’re done with him. You hear me?”
“I can’t be. Giant Tiger pays shit. I get two shifts a week if I’m lucky. No one else will hire me.”
“We’ll sort it out, but you’re done running scams for this guy because I’m going to nail his ass and he’s going to prison. Now listen, Luke might suspect you’re pocketing half the money. That’s fine. Either way, he won’t leave it to chance. Maybe you’re dumb enough to hand over a thousand or two in cash. He’s not exactly looking for bright kids to do his dirty work, is he?”
Darcy huffed. “You can call me stupid all you want, but he hires kids who are desperate. None of us would happily hand over money he didn’t know about.”
Again, he made sense. Chances were, Luke would know something was up, but that only meant he would investigate. “It’ll work.”
“You’ll get me killed.”
“I wouldn’t let him kill you. Besides, we should try this before the police decide to track you down. It’s only a matter of time before they follow the same path I did. The only reason they haven’t yet is because they don’t have enough people on the task force, digging into Elwood’s case.”
“I thought you said you wanted to protect me. Now you’re going to hand me over to the cops.”
“Did I say that? You don’t listen. I want to try drawing Luke out. Sooner rather than later. If the police get their hands on you first, then you’re shit out of luck.”
“But… I thought you had connections at the police department.”
“I fucking lied.”
Darcy sulked, but he couldn’t say much since he’d spent half the evening lying to me.
It was a decent plan, and it might work. If I could figure out who Luke was, I might be able to blow up his entire enterprise.
“Fine. I’ll text him, but he’s going to be suspicious.”
“Tomorrow. I have to make preparations first.”
Darcy slumped against the railing. His cigarette was gone, so he was back to rolling the band of his ring around and around.
It was getting late, and I was about to suggest we head inside where it was warmer when Darcy mumbled, “My dad went to prison for involuntary manslaughter when I was thirteen. He accidentally killed a guy in a drunken bar fight. He was sentenced to ten years but earned another five for dealing drugs in prison. Mom checked out after that. Lost herself at the bottom of a bottle of wine.”
“That’s shitty.”
He absently nodded, staring into a past I couldn’t see as he continued. “I got arrested when I was fifteen. Destruction of property.”
“Meaning?”
“I took a crowbar to my mom’s car. Destroyed it. Fuck it felt good.” His eyes shimmered, but he didn’t cry. “I got expelled from school earlier that day for knocking a kid’s teeth out when he called my mom a whore. She didn’t care that I was defending her. She only cared that I was caught fighting. Called me a loser, just like my no-good daddy, so I went ballistic. Spent time in juvie. Went from there to a boys’ home because my mom was never sober after that, and I was a delinquent according to the social worker.”
Darcy sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. A twist of resentment colored his expression. I felt in my chest all the pain and anger he carried inside and knew from experience that it took a Herculean effort to stay in control.
I wasn’t sure what compelled me to talk, but the words fell from my mouth before I could stop them. “My father’s the one who swung the bike chain that tore my face in half. I don’t even remember what made him so angry that day. Maybe nothing. He didn’t always have a reason to beat me. Maybe he had a bad day at work. Maybe someone cut him off on his way home. I was a convenient punching bag. It took sixteen stitches to sew my face back together. I was eight years old. The doctor said I was lucky I didn’t lose the eye.”
“Dude.”
I nodded, itching for another smoke. Even Tallus hadn’t heard the full story. He knew bits and pieces about my past, but sharing was painful, and the well of injustices was bottomless. He never pushed. Besides, reliving the horrors of my youth solved nothing. I was learning, slowly, to let them go.
