Page 176
The kid stares at the money.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
He pockets it.
“Cool.”
Then he leaves.
My attention drops to the book.
Old paperback.
Worn spine.
Bent corners.
A copy of Romeo and Juliet old enough that somebody has written a school assignment inside the front cover in blue ink.
No wrapping.
No note.
I turn it over.
Nothing.
Flip through the pages.
Nothing for thirty seconds.
Then I find it.
One passage underlined in black ink.
Juliet.
My only love sprung from my only hate!
I stare.
The sounds of the hotel bar recede.
My thumb moves over the edge of the page without touching the ink.
Well.
That escalated.
I read it again.
Love.
Hate.
Not like.
