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I sink down next to her. “We can go a lot of places with that money. Where do you want to go?”
“Nowhere. I want to go exactly nowhere.”
“Me, too,” I say. I look around, despairing. Aside from the couch, the furniture isn’t ours, but we collected a lot of little treasures over the years. We fought hard and we made a life.
“We’ll never see the sad mimes or fierce protector guy again.”
“I know.” I set a hand on her forearm. “Let’s think of a cool place to go where you can continue your theater training.”
We go out to get stupid-amount-of-candy ice cream, passing the sad mimes on the way. We hug them and get white paint on our cheeks.
We talk plans at the ice cream place. I nix Los Angeles—it has to be overseas. I already spoke with my ultra-expensive fake ID guy—he feels like he can swing overseas work visas under different names.
We settle on London. It’s the theater scene that sells it to Carly. And it’s a big city like New York. A place to get lost.
We look for VRBOs on our phones, and when we find one, we pay a random neighbor to arrange it; that way we won’t leave a trail.
We’ll head to an airport hotel ASAP and arrange the rest of the move from there. It’s important not to leave a trail, because if the story about me and Smuckers and the company pops, the media spotlight will be relentless.
Brett seems to think he has Denny contained, but he doesn’t know that piece of shit like I do.
I leave Carly at our place, packing boxes to ship. A classmate of hers and her mother are taking over our parrot-sitting gig, because long-term pet sitting gigs on the Upper West Side are easy to fill. She’s going to introduce them to Buddy and show them how it all goes.
I head out to meet Latrisha at the studio. It’s dark outside when I get there. I thought I’d feel sad when I walked into the place, but I feel strangely proud. The space and the community made my life better. It was a family when I had none. I wander around, just connecting with people one last time, not doing the big dramatic goodbye.
Bron over at the smithy gives me a beer and tells me how my order will be ready in a week. I tell him that I know it will be amazing.
Of course I tell Latrisha I’m leaving. She senses it’s trouble. She thinks it’s Henry. I promise her it’s not. She wants to rescue us, put us up in her high-security building, circle the wagons. She’s a total Joan of Arc that way.
“You’ve been such a good friend,” I say. “Trust me. It’s better this way. A storm could be coming.”
I make her come over to my space and look at my toolboxes to see if there are any tools she wants. I’ve got some great ones she can use for inlays and fine work.
“I hate this,” she says. “It’s morbid. You’ve been collecting these for years. You have to take them.”
“I’m going on a plane with a dog and a teenager. I can’t take my tools, too.”
“How are you going to make jewelry?”
I swallow. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m taking them all,” she declares with tears in her eyes. “And I’m keeping them for you for when you return. You belong here.”
It’s a sweet thing to say, but in the back of my mind, I think, You don’t know about Vonda.
On the way back, I have the Lyft drive along Central Park past Henry’s building. I make him stop across the street and I look up there, wanting to catch a glimpse of him. The kitchen light is on.
Is Henry there? Is he celebrating?
I wasn’t pretending.
I’d be a fool to believe that. He lives for that company. He protects what’s his.
I wasn’t pretending. We got this, Vicky.
I sit there and let myself sink into the feeling of his words being true, like trying on a plush and beautiful coat that you can never afford but you want to feel it around you, and for a second, maybe you even believe.
And it feels so good.
