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The reply only took seconds.Yes. It’s where we discussed. Swipe, followed by the numeric code in the keypad next to the door.
Anything changed?
The reply took a little longer. Nick began to sweat, glaring at his phone. Finally,No. He doesn’t know.
R u sure?
YES. I’M SURE. STOP ASKING QUESTIONS. YOU ONLY GET ONE SHOT AT THIS!!!!
“Hate you, too,” Nick muttered. Then, just because he knew it’d piss Rebecca Firestone off, he sent back a dozen kissing emojis, followed by ten emojis flipping her off. He immediately felt better, imagining her outrage.
A hand fell on his shoulder. “All right?” Dad asked.
Nick nodded, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “She says she did what she promised.”
“Do you trust her?”
“No,” Nick said honestly. “But I believe her.”
They went back to their family, and for a moment, no one spoke. They stood there, watching each other, eyes alight. Excited. Nervous. Proud. Determined. Gibby acted for all of them when she held out her hand, palm toward the ground. “Bring it in,” she said. It was difficult—so many people crowding together—but they did as she told them, a sloppy pile of hands on top of hands. “Who are we?”
“Lighthouse!” everyone cried.
“And what are we gonna do?”
Everyone looked confused, unsure of what she wanted from them.Almosteveryone, that is, because Dad chuckled and said, “We’re going to fucking ruin Simon Burke’s entire life.”
“Hell yes,” Nick breathed. “Iknewit was an awesome catchphrase. Suck onthat,haters!”
“We are,” Gibby agreed. “We’re gonna show him why messing with our family was the worst mistake he ever made. You know your jobs. You know what’s at stake. Watch each other’sbacks. Be safe. Be strong.” She grinned at them. “And remember:weput theextrainExtraordinary.Let’s do this.”
They reached the parking garage, going up to the top level of the six-story structure. A few blocks away, Burke Tower rose high into the sky, the top lit up in red, white, and blue, and an oversized screen at the front of the tower displaying a waving American flag underneath the wordsIN BURKE WE TRUST! The sun was setting, painting the sky in fiery shades of red and orange.
The parking garage was full. People hurried toward the stairs and elevators, carrying brightly colored streamers and signs in support of Burke, kids with their faces painted with blue stars. A few glanced their way, but mostly because of the mural on the side of Matilda, some parents glaring at them, shielding their kids from the sight of a busty woman riding a seahorse. Not exactly inconspicuous, but Nova City was filled with such oddities, a melting pot of weirdos who did that and worse.
Dad stood in front of Miss Conduct, back to the others as she lifted her hands to Dad’s face. She frowned before nodding and saying, “Done and done.” Dad turned around, and Nick choked on his tongue.
Dad wore a large fake brown mustache and oversized mirror shades. He looked like a seventies porn star, something Nick immediately wished he could banish from his brain. He knew a disguise was necessary in case Dad’s former colleagues recognized him, but there had to be a better way to go about it.
“Well?” Dad asked. “How do I look?”
“Like you want us to follow you into an alley so you can flash us,” Nick said.
“Like you own sixteen birds with complicated backstories for each,” Seth said.
“Like you’re the bass player in a Christian punk band called Please Us, Jesus,” Jazz said, leaning her head out of Matilda.
“Like you have red satin sheets on your bed and mirrors on the ceiling,” Gibby said, her head just above Jazz’s.
“Like you know how to show a guy a good time,” Burrito Jerry said.
“They’ve got a point, man,” Trey said as Bob nodded. “I feel like you want to give me a body-cavity search with gloves you brought from home.”
Dad threw up his hands.
“Ignore them,” Cap said grumpily as he climbed out of the SUV. “A mustache makes a man. Looks good, Aaron.” He held out his fist, and Dad bumped it smugly.
“Mustache bros,” he said.
