Billy’s scrutiny intensifies. With every passing moment, his eyes pry information from me.
“What do you want with Old Gin?”
“Information costs five dollars per question.”
I try to keep the shock out of my eyes. Five dollars is more than a week’s wages. “How shall I know if you have information I want to buy?”
He gives me a sly grin. “Life is full of risks. Keeps it interesting.” The water makes rhythmic slaps against the sides of the tub.
“Well, I don’t have five dollars. But I do have something you might want.”
The water stills.
I unsheathe the bottle in my pocket, which I’d filled with barley tea and sealed with wax. “Pendergrass’s Long-Life Elixir.”
His lips peel open, exposing a small gap between his front teeth. “Where’d you get that?”
“I bought it at Buxbaum’s before you showed up.”
Billy snorts, and the suds shift alliances, though I try not to look. “That only costs fifty cents a bottle.”
“One should never confuse cost with value,” I say, an echo of his own words from our last encounter. “As I recall, the next shipment isn’t due until Tuesday.”
Some of the suds have scaled Billy’s face. He makes his finger into a razor and shaves them off.Fft! Fft!The moment feels slick and dangerous. Maybe Ihavemiscalculated the Pendergrass’s value. Knucks’s steel eyes lock on to mine, and suddenly he does not appear quite so dead after all.
Someone knocks. “Water.”
Knucks unlatches the door, and in steps a maid with a steaming bucket. I consider fleeing while I have the chance. The maid quickly empties her vessel. I force myself to stay the course. I have come this far, and there are answers in this room, just as certain as there are questions.
The maid leaves and Knucks resumes his guard.
“Very well, I will answer your question,” Billy announces.
I hand him the Pendergrass and quickly step back.
He winks. “Bottoms up.” He works off the cork and swigs. After a thorough swish and swallow, he recorks the bottle andsets it on the side table. His attention lingers a moment on the Buddha vase. “Now, to answer your question, Old Gin needs to pay a debt.”
“For what?”
Water drips off his long eyelashes when he blinks. “Questions are five dollars each.”
“That is hardly fair. You barely answered my question, and as I told you, I don’t have five dollars.”
A cunning smile grips his face. “Fortunately for you, I offer several payment plans. If you would like the conversation to continue, you must answer a question for every answer you want from me. Easy, right?”
Easy as a dime pitch, until you discover that dimes bounce. “I want no part of your blackmail scheme.”
“Blackmailis such an unfortunate term. Personally, I don’t discriminate. Black, white, red, yellow, I serve all. If there is a question you don’t wish to answer, you can stop at any time, agreed?”
“Fine,” I say primly. “What’s your question?”
“Who is the most important person in the world to you?”
Why would he want to know that? He must want to know my weaknesses, probably to tuck away for further blackmail.
When I fail to answer, he adds, “Be careful. I will know if you are lying.”
My molars grind. He already knows of my concern for Old Gin, so I would not be giving him anything new. “Old Gin. My turn. But I would like to revise my question.” I shall need to extract as much information as possible from each question. Old Gin already told me that Shang owes the debt, and Billyjust confirmed that Old Gin is covering it for Shang. What I don’t know is why. I could ask straight out if Shang is my father. But I don’t yet want him to know that I don’t know. The information game is tricky as a two-headed snake. “Why did Shang come to your father?”
