Page 17 of The Triangle

He has blood ties and I am jealous of that.

And he’s pretty. Like that blue beetle. And I have an urge to poke him until all the pretty spills out.

But I look at Danny instead. Danny isn’t pretty. He’s strong. And rough. Like a wall. And he’s got the same things inside him that I do. And he won’t let me poke the beetle or this golden boy either. He takes my mind off the ugly inside with just one look.

“Just in case, nunu.” Alec winks at me and some of the sickness inside me dissipates into the air like a misty day at the end of summer.

“OK,” I say, even though the gun is uncomfortable. “But should I use it?”

“If you have to,” he says.

“No,” Danny says at the same time. And then he turns to Alec. “You said this was a done deal. No one was inside. Why the fuck—”

“Just in case, bru. Precautionary tale and all, yeah?”

I like the way he talks. I like the way words come out of his mouth like poetry. Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying, I just get lost in it. I like the pretty inside him. And he’s got enough to share with me. With us. So I don’t care if I have to use the gun to bring him back what he’s sending me inside for.

“Now, you go in there,” Alec continues, “And do it just it just the way I showed you, K?” He places his hand on my cheek and it’s surprisingly warm. “Four turns to the left. Stop on the first number. Then three turns for the second number and—”

“I know,” I huff, irritated. “You told me all that a million times last night.”

“Good,” he says, petting my hair. “Then go. We’ll meet you in the alley with the bikes.”

“Be careful,” Danny says, reaching for my arm.

“Shit,” I say, shrugging him off. “Don’t start, Danny.” I hate it when he treats me like his little sister. We’re not family. Not real family. I’m his best friend, not his stupid sister.

TODAY

The memory comes rushing back like a slap in the face. Makes me recoil and want to fall into it completely at the same time. And it occurs to me—I have these opposing feelings a lot. Even in my unreliable memories.

This safe in his bathroom wall is the same model as the first one I cracked lifetimes ago. Not that I had to crack it that day. I had the combination, I remember that much. It was an inside job. Some friend of the family—I roll my eyes, can’t help it. Some family. Some friend, for that matter.

You don’t steal a seven-carat diamond from your friends and family.

Unless your name is Alec van den Berg.

How did he get that combination? I try to dive back in the flashback. Look for that answer. But it’s not there. It’s all gone.

I tug my towel up, straighten it out and tuck the edge in to keep it tight as I look at the safe.

Could I open this? I didn’t crack that safe that day, but I have a feeling cracking safes is something I do well. Maybe as well as I shoot people.

Funny, haha, Christine, that thing inside me says. You shoot people so well you wake up in strange apartments with a gash on your head you don’t recall getting.

Fuck off, thing. Alec and Danny put the pretty inside me and I don’t need you anymore.

I press my ear to the side of the safe and start turning the dial. If I had the right equipment I’d know what to do, that’s a fact.

But my fingers already know what to do…. four turns to the left, each time briefly stopping on the faintly visible tick mark for the number thirty-three. The dial is already rotating to the right, briefly stopping on the second tick mark. At the end of the last two rotations to the left I smile.

I rotate the lever and the safe silently opens when I pull.

Still got it, Christine.

And dumbass Danny is still using our combination.

None of this is normal. Most friends don’t share combinations. You give them the spare key to your apartment in case you ever get locked out. Or your spare car key in case you go to jail and need someone to pick your car up from the bar for you.