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“But see?” she said, tagging after him. “There are a million ways for me to blow through this money if I don’t have a big brother to look after me.”
“Kelly, I’m not your big brother.”
“We don’t have to put a label on it. What I’m saying is, you got a pot of money when they let you out of prison, right? Your friend the lawyer settled that lawsuit for keeping you in jail while you were innocent.”
She seemed to know everything about him. “Do you live on Google?”
“You turned that money into Cy’s Place,” she said. “You didn’t waste it. Now I got all this reward money. I can blow it. Or I could learn from you.”
“I’m definitely not a role model.”
“But you could be my boss,” she said, and then she leaned her head against his shoulder, adding a cheesy smile. “My very benevolent boss.”
“Where do you get these words?”
“I’m a woman of means.”
“You’re eighteen. Barely a woman. I can’t hire a teenager to work in my club.”
“Yes, you can, as long as I don’t serve alcohol. I googled it.”
Theo stopped. There were a couple of open spots on the long, bench-style seating near baggage check-in. He and Kelly squeezed in between two people who did absolutely nothing to make room for them.
“I can’t let you come,” said Theo.
“It’s not your decision.”
Theo was trying to have a serious conversation, but the guy to his left was watching the newest Tom Cruise movie, no earbuds, the sound blasting for the entire terminal to hear. The quality was so poor, Theo could tell instantly that someone had literally gone into the theater, filmed the entire movie on a cellphone, and posted it on the web for others to watch on their phones.
“You know that’s illegal, right?” said Theo.
“Sue me,” the guy said.
Less than a week since the demise of Amongus Sicario, and it was as if there had never been a pirate killer.
Theo rose, and Kelly walked with him to the security checkpoint. They took their place at the end of the long, winding line.
“You’re really coming to Miami,” he said, resigning himself to it.
“I really am,” she said, and then she poked a finger at his ribs. “Come on, admit it. You’re glad I’m coming.”
His gaze drifted toward the front of the line. A girl about Kelly’s age was having a hard time getting her carry-on through the X-ray machine. From the looks of things, she’d crammed everything she owned into that bag. She was with some guy, but he was as helpful as dirt. For whatever reason—maybe it had something to do with his mother’s too-short life, or maybe it was just the young woman standing right beside him—Theo was suddenly thinking of the “blokes” he’d seen in the East End selling passports out of convenience stores. He wondered what this girl’s story was. Heworriedwhat her creepy boyfriend’s story might be.
He lifted Kelly’s bag onto the conveyor belt. “I know this great little place in Miami,” he said.
“What kind of place?” asked Kelly.
“Best pancakes ever.”
She smiled. “Oh, Iseriouslydoubt that.”
