AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There are several other problems with the story, besides the unlikely villain. One, involving Alex is just stupid. If Stewart was actually trying to cover his tracks by using Mina as a buffer between his identity and Wharton, then there’s no way that he would be stupid enough to enlist a student with nothing to lose by telling everyone.
“I don’t get it,” Sam says.
“Neither do I,” I say. “Not really. Is she a scholarship student?”
He shrugs. “Could be.”
“We need to know if she’s doing something to Wharton or for Wharton. Is he paying her, or is she making him—I don’t know—do something that benefits her?”
“He’s paying her,” Sam says. “Because if he wasn’t the one who was paying, then she wouldn’t want there to be any documentation of what’s going on, right? She wouldn’t let us see the photos. Wouldn’t have given them to Alex. Wouldn’t rock the boat. If you’re right about that part, then Wharton’s hiring Mina.”
I take out one of the photos and set it down in the center of the table. Sam moves mugs and plates so there’s room.
We stare at Mina’s bare fingers and the way that Wharton’s head is turned away, like he’s ashamed of what he’s doing. We stare at the composition—the figures not centered, like maybe the photos were taken without anyone to aim. There’s ways to do that, even with a cell phone. It can be programmed to take pictures every couple of minutes. The only hard part for Mina would be making sure that Wharton was standing in the right spot.
“Do you like her?” Sam asks.
I look up at him sharply. “What?”
“Nothing. Luck work, maybe. She could be a luck worker. He could have a gambling problem,” Sam says.
“Or she could be a physical worker like Philip, although his hair didn’t fall out.” I try not to think about what Sam just asked me, but now I can’t help wondering if he’s interested in Mina. There’s something about a lady in distress—we all want to save her. And there’s nothing like getting dumped to make anybody eager for a rebound.
“Maybe she’s a physical worker curing Wharton’s baldness,” Sam says, and we both laugh. “But seriously, what do you think? What was Mina trying to do?”
I shrug. “I guess she wanted the money, right? So she must have thought we could help her get it? Maybe she thought we’d find some way to squeeze Stewart for it or help her blackmail Wharton and blame Stewart.”
The waitress sets the bill at the end of the table and clears our plates. We pause the conversation until she goes.
I wonder where Lila is now.
“But what does Mina need five grand for?” Sam asks, fumbling for his wallet with one hand and reaching for his refilled mug with the other. I drag my attention back to the present.
“It’s money. Could be for anything—maybe just to have it. But if Wharton’s been paying her to get himself worked, then I guess it’s possible the payments are coming to an end. All grifters dream of the big score.”
“The big score?” Sam grins, teasing.
“Sure,” I say. “The one that you can live on forever. The legendary one. The one that your name becomes synonymous with. I admit that five large isn’t that large, but it’s pretty big for high school. And if she thinks that she’s not going to be making money off him regularly anymore, maybe there’s no reason not to go for it.”
I throw ten bucks down onto the table. He does the same, and we slide out of the booth.
“No reason except getting caught,” Sam says.
I nod. “That’s why the big score is a myth. A fairy tale. Because no one ever quits after a successful job. They get stupid and cocky and think they’re invulnerable. They convince themselves to do just one more, just this last time. And then the time after that, because if a job goes sideways, then you want to do another to get the taste of failure out of your mouth. And if it goes well, you do another to chase that feeling.”
“Even you?” Sam asks.
I look over at him, surprised. “Not me,” I say. “I’m already on the hook with the Feds.”
“My grandfather took me fishing a couple of times,” Sam says as he unlocks the hearse. “I wasn’t very good at it. I always had trouble reeling them in. Maybe it’ll be like that.”
I want to say something funny back, but the words stick in my throat.
* * *
Instead of going to class I head to Lila’s dorm. I have some idea that I’m going to talk to her about Daneca, but it’s become so jumbled up with a sheer, mad desire to see Lila that it doesn’t make any real sense.
I thought I was getting better at this. I thought I was starting to make peace with being in love with a girl who despises me, but I don’t think I’m so okay with it after all. Somewhere along the line I made a dark bargain with the universe without really being aware of it—a bargain that if I was allowed to see her, even if we never spoke, then I could live with that. And now a week without her has swallowed up all of my rational thinking.
