Lexie’s brow furrows. “Answer,” she says. “Go on.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Just answer.” She pulls back as I draw out my phone.
“Shit,” I say. “It’s Margot.”
She nods, but her face has become an unreadable mask, and suddenly I can’t even guess what she’s thinking. She’s drying her tears on my t-shirt sleeve when I answer.
“Everything OK?” I ask Margot over the phone. “Sorry about the car, I’m heading home—”
“Liam fucking Dunne.”
I freeze, my heart going to ice in my chest. I look at Lexie, who has begun scrubbing the dishes violently, mouth set and brow furrowed. I touch her arm, then shove open the slider and step out into the gasping cold of morning.
“Jockey,” I say.
“Hey, man, long time no talk, huh?” There’s a laugh in his voice like always, high and easy. “Hey, so, don’t freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“So, you know me and your sister stayed in contact while you were, you know,away, right?”
My teeth are grinding. I blink hard, trying to focus through the rage that’s making my vision white at the edges. “Yeah.”
“Look, so, we’ve been waiting for you to come around. Catch up. Like old friends, you know?” Jockey laughs again, and I clench my hand into a fist so tight my knuckles grind. “But you’ve just been pussy-footing left and right, haven’t you? So, here’s the deal. It’s just good manners for you to come tous, OK, and we’re gonna make it really fuckin’ easy.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re at Margot’s shop. Lucky us, she’s gonna close early today. Give us some, you know,privacy. These things are best dealt with out of the public eye, right?”
“Yeah.”
“‘Yeah’? That all you got, Liam? ‘Yes, sir, no, sir.’ Whose bitch were you in prison?”
I close my eyes, heartbeat roaring in my ears. “Let me talk to Margot.”
I expect him to laugh, but instead, I get a little static, thech-chof someone shifting the phone, and then Margot’s voice. “Hey. Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out,” I say, more sharply this time. “Margot—”
“I’m serious. I’m fine. Come, Liam, and come alone, and come unarmed. Promise.”
There’s a high, wire-thin pulse of fear in her voice.Not fear. Terror.And not for herself—for me, if I play this wrong. “Promise.”
“Liam—”
“I promise.”
“OK. I’ll see you soon.”
The phone jostles, and Jockey’s voice comes back, bright and chipper as ever. “How was she, by the way? From what my guys say, she came pretty fucking hard, huh? Guess you kept up in jail, didn’t you, Liam? Maybe learned a thing or two?”
No way. No way they saw us, no way they were following us—the breath goes out of me. “You listen to me, Jockey, you stay the absolutefuckaway—”
“Hey, man, it’s cool, save the puffed-up, cocks-out big-boy talk for when you get here. OK? I’m real impressed, but it’s my friends you’re gonna have to prove wrong. I told them you’re the real deal, don’t fuck with you, but they don’t believe me. No guns. Come alone. I mean, you know the deal, right? We’ve done this before. Let’s make sure nobody gets themselves shot today, right?”
He hangs up, but not before he starts laughing, and I realize, right then, that Jockey’s apologies to Margot and all that talk is bullshit. Milo was his friend too, but Jockey is way past that. He’s in way over his head, and if it means damning his own people, he’ll do it. Whoever he works for now, he’s still a pawn, and he knows it. And they’ve got him scared.
