Page 106 of Joey

“I don’t hate him,” I say.

“Who? Conner?” Huck asks. “I do.”

“Why not?” Wald asks.

“I dunno. I think he was making a point,” I say.

“Yeah, that he has Joey’s daughter and if we think we’re taking her away, there’s gonna be a fight.”

“That,” I say. “But also… he made a point about the little sister.”

“New twist for sure,” Wald says.

“It was an asshole move if you ask me,” Huck says. “Meant to guilt Joey into walking away. Into letting bygones be bygones.”

“Maybe,” I say. “Or he loves them both. It could be as simple as that.”

“Unlikely,” Huck says. “I know his type.”

“We just met him,” I say. “We should give him the benefit of the doubt. At least until we have proof that he’s being selfish and not simply looking out for Maisy’s best interest.”

“You’re too trusting,” Wald says.

Huck, still holding my hand, gives it another squeeze. “I like that about you.”

And that makes me glow inside.

“On your left!” someone shouts behind us. And then suddenly a thundering of hoofbeats fills the air and we all turn and sorta stumble off the path as four young girls go racing by on horseback.

One shouts, “Sorry!”

Then another yells, “So, so sorry!”

And they giggle as they disappear into the trees just as quick as they came.

I just look at that spot in the woods for three or four whole seconds. Trying to fit that scene into my new reality so it makes some sort of sense. Trying to put myself into the tall, expensive riding boots of those girls.

I consider the idea that everything is a lie. That this is a scam. That we’re being set up for something. Because so far everything in my life has been one set up after another. And mostly that was all me. I did the setting up. Hell, we’re here, lying to these people, so why wouldn’t they lie to us?

But giggling teenage girls racing along a garden path on horseback wouldn’t be part of the scam. If they were, they’d have stopped to make sure they made an impression. Not just raced by to let us form an impression on our own.

No. That’s too risky.

Because our impression could be good—they look happy and normal having their summertime fun.

Or bad—they are some rich, pretentious, thoughtless girls and we almost got trampled by a herd of pedigreed thoroughbreds.

And when you run a con this big—because if this is a con, then it’s fuckin’ huge—you don’t leave anything to chance.

So that was real.

“Hm,” I say. Forming my impression. “They seem very happy here.”

Neither Huck, nor Wald say anything to that.

We continue to walk, going into the woods after the girls on horseback, and then come out in a high meadow that overlooks the estate down below.

“Damn,” Wald says. “Like, OK. I’m not usually impressed by displays of wealth. But… damn. That is some view.”