Page 102 of The Company

“I’d expect nothing less. Look for deets soon. Later.”

I press end and immediately key in another number. It reroutes several times, making loud clicking noises that would usually have me on high alert for wiretapping. But this is just how it is when you want to talk to Roberto.

“Hola,” a woman’s voice says. “Roberto Moreno Diseñador.”

“This is Tet. I have an order and I am sending someone to pick it up tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, switching from Spanish to English effortlessly. “How can I help you?”

I give her my request. It’s nothing special, at least for Roberto. But they don’t sell them here in the States. At least not of this caliber. And I need the best for this job. I end the call, text Harrison the details, and go find Sasha.

“Come in,” she says softly after I knock on her door. I open it up and she’s curled up in a chair on the far side of the room, still holding the gun I gave her. “That was fast,” she says through a yawn. “I hope it’s not some crackpot idea that will get me killed.”

“Well, you can let me know afterward, OK?”

She stares at me for a few seconds and I can almost see her mind spinning with questions. Will she ask them? Will I answer them?

I don’t think I can, not yet anyway.

“Medicine Wheel or something like that.”

“What?” I shake my head at her randomness.

“That place my dad was gonna take me today. Something about a medicine wheel. And he had special permission to go up with some Native American friends because normally it’s closed to the public on the summer solstice.”

“Sorry, kid. I have no idea.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, her expression blank. “Who cares about stupid stuff like that anyway.” She turns away from me, curling her little body up in the chair like she’s cold. But this is the desert. It’s still almost eighty degrees out in the dead of night. Her posture is just another defense mechanism to protect herself from all the hurt. And not the physical kind. She’s got plenty of that tonight too. But missing that trip with her dad, that’s the kind of pain that can’t be fixed with a pill.

Not easily, anyway.

“Hey,” I say after her eyes have been closed for a few minutes. “Stupid medicine wheels are the only things that count, Sasha. How about… how about I make you a promise. For when this is all over.”

“What kind of promise?” She asks the question out of duty, it seems. Because she doesn’t even bother to open her eyes.

“I’ll take you to that place. We’ll find it and I’ll take you there.”

The tears start to fall down her face. “It’s too late. The solstice is today. I missed it and I don’t want to go anymore.”

I have nothing to say to that. Do you convince them? Kids, I mean. Is that what parents do? Convince them that they really do want to go, they’re just acting like… well, kids?

Or do you take them at their word?

I’m not sure. So I just get up and walk out. It seems like a cowardly move on my part, but fuck it. I’m not her father. She’s not my kid. She’s not my problem.

She’s my solution and nothing more.