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“You’re type A about everything,” Zoe reminds her with a laugh. “And you both make me feel like a loser. Though I did find lots of materials about how the different families in New York divided territories. There are so many gross pictures out there of, like, murder scenes.”
“I know, right? It’s like, research at your own risk.” We share a knowing grin before I turn to Dean. “What about you? You’re covering the drug trafficking explosion in the eighties, right?”
My question startles him like he wasn’t paying attention. “What? Yeah. Drugs. Bad shit.”
The three of us look at each other before turning back to him. “Wow. Insightful,” Posey murmurs.
“We’re going to get an A for sure,” Zoe agrees, nodding solemnly.
I don’t join in with the joking. Something’s obviously bothering him. “What’s up?”
He shifts his weight in his chair like he’s uncomfortable before scrubbing a hand over his blond curls. “It’s just, you know, if we make plans to get together and talk about our project, we need to actually be able to get together and talk about it. Outside of class. The way everybody else is doing.”
“No offense, but how do you know what everybody else is doing? Did you take a survey of the rest of the class?” Posey gives me a look that says I’ve got this. “Don’t get a hair up your ass about Mia not being able to go to your place. You know damn well we didn’t talk about school.”
“We were there for, like, ten minutes before we went over to the party,” Zoe confirms. I already knew that because Posey told me, but I’m glad they’re calling him out. I don’t love the feeling of getting blamed for something I had no control over.
He grumbles, glancing toward Zeke one more time before shrugging like he knows he’s outnumbered. He’d better not look back there again because something tells me Zeke will only take so much antagonizing. And Dean might think he’s tough, but I doubt he’s any match for Zeke. I know better than to ask whether he’s ever hurt somebody because I’m sure he has. “Believe me,” my father said, back in those first days when I was learning how to live in my new world, “there’s nobody I trust more than him. He’s done a lot of work for me, and if anybody so much as lays a hand on you, they will lose that hand. And that’s if they’re lucky.”
I didn’t ask him exactly what that meant or how he could be so sure. I didn’t need to.
I didn’t want to, either.
Posey takes over as usual, and I’m happy to let her do it. “I’ve been pulling up articles about the current state of organized crime and how money laundering schemes affect even regular, everyday people. Like there was that one chain of stores that exploded in a million different locations and had all these employees and everything, but it turned out they were laundering money the whole time. Once it collapsed, all those people lost their jobs, and they had nothing to do with anything illegal. They thought they were just working at a store.”
“What about all those casinos that shut down?” Dean asks, and I’m glad he’s finally over his little hissy fit. “Out in Jersey. Weren’t there rumors about that being a front for laundering?”
“Well, I guess if you’re going to launder a bunch of money, a casino would be the place to do it.” Posey types a note on her computer. “I’m going to look at that, too. Speaking of shore towns, there’s a lot of information on trafficking as well. Kids from Europe come over here to spend the summer working in a shore town, and they never end up going home. We don’t hear a lot about that sort of stuff because it all gets swept under the rug.”
“A lot of shit gets swept under the rug,” Dean agrees. “The more digging I’ve done, the more obvious it is that we don’t have a single clue how widespread this shit is. It can go on right under your nose, and you’d have no idea.”
Then he grins, resting his chin on his palm. “Speaking of money laundering, what about your dad, Posey?”
I can almost hear her hackles going up, even if she tries to play it off. “What about him?”
“Does he know about any of that kind of stuff? I found an old article about his firm from, like, ten years ago. There were all kinds of accusations.”
“You are so full of shit.” Meanwhile, I exchange a worried look with Zoe. It never occurred to me we could find something like this while working on the project.
“Am I? I’ll send you my research.” He winks at me, trying to hide a grin. “I’m just fucking with you.”
“You dick.” She kicks him, though something tells me she’d like to do worse.
“Hey, I was just being a good boy and doing my homework.” Homework on Posey’s family, though? Come to think of it, he did seem to know a lot about her financial situation in advance. I assumed it was because rich people go around in the same circles. Now I’m wondering if he didn’t do a little digging.
And if he did, maybe he could find out something about my father.
It’s wrong to think that way, but the man is a mystery. I’ve told myself a million times that I should be grateful and stop wondering. If he wasn’t so secretive, I wouldn’t even care. The question would never cross my mind. And he goes out of his way to avoid ever talking about his business, his plans, any of it. I walk into a room, and he’s all smiles, patting me on the head like I’m some possession of his. Who wouldn’t be curious over why the conversation in his office stops dead when I so much as walk past the door?
Granted, I could just as easily google his name myself, but that would feel like an invasion. Besides, I’m not totally convinced he’s not monitoring my online activity. I wouldn’t put it past him, even if I’m unsure how he would do it with me so many miles away. And just like with sneaking out, I don’t feel like finding out after the fact that the odds were against me the entire time, like with Zeke’s notifications about the alarm system and the way he tracks my phone’s location. I don’t think Dad would be very forgiving if there was something to hide, and I found it.
Out of nowhere, a message box pops up on my screen. It’s from Dean’s Facebook account. Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was blaming you about Friday night. I know how things are for you right now.
I glance away from my screen, but nothing about his expression or posture would give away the fact that he just sent me that message. It’s fine. And I’ll try to show up next time, I promise. Don’t be pissed at me?
You’re not the one I’m pissed at.So he’s not going to let it go. I know there’s stuff you don’t want to say, and that’s okay. I get it. You want to keep things private. But if somebody is hurting you, you can tell me. You know that, right?
No, I don’t know that. We hardly know each other at all. It’s nice that he wants to be friends, and I could see us even dating if the planets aligned and I could actually have a private life. I get the feeling he kind of likes me, and it’s nice. It feels good. But I’m not trying to lead him on, either, when I have no idea how I would even begin to navigate that situation.
