Page 5 of Gave Proof Through the Night

Rue nods. “And until then?”

“I’ll go see Sal. He might have some names for me. Zoe and I will be back here late June. We’ll set up the workspace, run the first walkthrough, that sort of thing.”

I look out at the park. There are families, joggers… a woman whose golden retriever has very strong feelings about a squirrel. Such normal, pedestrian stuff. I wouldn’t mind that life.

We sit in silence, letting it all sink in. “You’re clear for the summer?”

“I’ll make it clear,” Rue says. In other words, she’s there for me no matter what.

“Good.” I sit back, letting the moment breathe. “This is the one that matters, Rue. My last one.”

Rue looks at me and raises a brow.

“I know, I know.” I wave a hand. “Don’t judge me.”

“Why would I judge? One last job. That’s what we all say.”

She gets up and checks her phone, already glowing in that Rue way. She does a little shimmy as she reads her notifications.

“Good news?” I ask.

“I’m going to a rooftop party in Tribeca.” She looks up, already delighted with herself. “Cinco de Mayo, baby. Margaritas all night.”

“Ooh Tribeca. Fancy.”

“Come with me.”

“I have things to do.”

“The things will wait.”

“The things will absolutely not wait.”

She deploys the eyes. Rue has very, very good eyes for this. Wide and hopeful and cleverly persuasive. “Margaritas, Erica. Good ones.”

“Go.” I wave her off. “Go drink margaritas on a rooftop. Send me a picture of the view.”

She grins, bright and quick, and pulls me into a hug.

“July first,” she says over her shoulder as she turns for the station.

“July first,” I confirm.

I watch her disappear down the path toward the Metro. A fifteen-minute walk in wedges, which honestly serves her right. I don’t know why she doesn’t just take an Uber to the airport.

Then I’m alone, the park breezy and humming around me and the afternoon tipping over into early evening.

Cinco de Mayo.

I stand near the fountain and let myself stop moving for just a second. The light off the river is doing something magical. Somewhere nearby someone has started playing music, probably getting the festivities started early. I close my eyes and just breathe it in.

Watch guy. Watchy… El Hottie.

I wonder how he’s celebrating tonight. Whether he’s still in the park or whether he’s on his way to a rooftop party right now with good margaritas and a skyline. I wonder if that same warm expression will be aimed at someone else.

“Excuse me?”

I open my eyes.