“Nobody likes a snitch,” Vero scolded her. “And Zach, don’t do that. You might lose your woobie.” Zach giggled and continued taunting his sister. Vero rolled her head toward me and lowered her voice. “We’ll be there in a few hours,” she said, masking our conversation under the children’s arguing. “What’s the plan?”
“We’ll get some rooms for the night, order room service for the kids, and leave them with my mother.”
“What about Commander Killjoy?”
“We’ll tell Steven we’re going to the casino. It shouldn’t be hard to shake him if he follows us. Do you know how to get in touch with Marco?”
Vero nodded. “Leave that part to me.”
CHAPTER 4
It was well after dark when the bright lights of Atlantic City finally appeared on the horizon. Vero had insisted on driving the last leg of the trip, her foot heavy on the accelerator, eager to get to Javi. My mother sat up in her seat, craning her neck to read the glowing neon lights of Caesars, the Tropicana, and the Hard Rock as we reached the intersection at Atlantic Avenue.
My mother pointed north, toward the sleek glass silhouette of the Ocean Casino Resort in the distance. “I’ve heard that one’s very nice.”
Vero turned south instead, sailing through several yellow lights before slowing in front of a run-down mid-rise that seemed to hunch under the shadow of the Tropicana next door. A neon sign flashedTHE ROYAL FLUSH CASINO HOTEL. A few bulbs flickered in the gaudy marquee out front, touting cable TV and cheap rooms.
“We should try here,” she said, jerking the SUV to a stop in the check-in lane. “I heard the food is good.” Vero left the engine running as she leaped out of the driver’s seat. “Stay here,” she insisted. “I’ll go find us some rooms.”
Steven frowned out the rear window. “This place is a dump.”
“This is Vero and Finlay’s trip,” my mother said. “If they want to stay here, then we’re staying here. You,” she said, pinning him with a look in her visor mirror, “are free to stay someplace else.”
Steven folded himself back into his seat.
Vero returned a few minutes later and scrambled into the SUV. She handed two small envelopes to my mother. “I got their last set of adjoining rooms. You and the kids can sleep in one and Finlay and I will take the other.”
“What about me?” Steven asked.
Vero shrugged. “Try over there,” she said, pointing at the Tropicana.
“I’m not staying in a different hotel!Ican share a room with Finlay and the kids. You and Susan can take the other one.”
“Absolutely not!” my mother said, turning in her seat. “Steven and the children will take one room and the three of us girls will share the other, and that’s the end of it.” Vero caught my eye in her rearview mirror as she put the car in gear and drove into the parking garage. My mother took a deep breath and beamed. “A girls’ weekend away, just like we talked about! Won’t this be fun?”
Steven rolled his suitcase with one hand and carried a sleepy Delia into the Royal Flush with the other. I carried the diaper bag and Zach, who woke up just long enough to take in the gaudy, bright lights of the hotel lobby before curling up with his new blanket against my chest. My mother gathered up the bags of clothes, pajamas, and basic sundries she had purchased at Walmart when we’d stopped to replace Zach’s woobie on the way here. We all followed Vero, who dragged the children’s Dora the Explorer rollaboard and our shared suitcase behind her, leading the way to the elevator and, finally, our rooms.
I had never been so happy to see a bed.
Vero dropped facedown on one of them while I unlocked the door connecting our room to Steven’s. We left all the lights off with the exception of one dim lamp. Careful not to wake the kids, we slipped offtheir shoes and settled them into one of the queen beds, tucking them in for the night.
I set the diaper bag on the floor beside their luggage.
“Everything you need for the night is in here,” I whispered to Steven. “Diapers and wipes. Delia’s vitamins and Zach’s allergy medicine if he gets stuffy. Cheerios, peanut butter crackers, and juice boxes if they get hungry, and changes of clothes for the morning.” Whatever trouble Steven was into, it probably hadn’t followed him here.
“Wait,” he said, catching me by the arm as I turned to go. His eyes searched mine. “Would it really have been so bad to share a room with me… with us,” he corrected, “as a family?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” Steven and I would always be linked by the connective tissue of our children. But we would never be the kind of family he wanted now. Not the kind that shared beds or vacations together. Not the kind that swept our differences and heartbreaks under a rug so we’d never have to tread over them. “Nick and I are seeing each other.” He needed to hear it plainly said, not hinted at between the lines of a manuscript or an overheard conversation. He needed to hear it from my own mouth, before he got any more ideas about marriage counseling and trying to fix what he’d ruined. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I shut the adjoining door between our rooms. Vero had fallen asleep, facedown on the mattress, still wearing her coat and sneakers, her bedside lamp still on. She’d slept fitfully during the drive, waking frequently to check our progress and the time, as if that might get us here faster, and I was grateful for the short nap I’d taken during the final hours of the trip.
I unpacked my laptop and connected to the hotel Wi-Fi. I drafted a quick email to Sylvia, attached my revised manuscript, and clickedSend. At least that deadline was off my plate. As I slid my laptop back into its case, I spotted the page Vero had torn from Steven’s ledger that morning.
I unfolded it, studying it under the lamplight. The notes in the margins were difficult to read, written in some kind of shorthand—lots ofabbreviations and initials, combinations of numbers that might have been dates. I didn’t recognize any of the names listed, but it was the dollar amounts that drew my attention—large round figures, all of them listed in the column for deposits.
I hastily folded it and tucked it away, no closer to understanding any of it, as the bathroom door opened. My mother came out, her face freshly scrubbed, wearing a pair of fleece pajamas that still had a store label stuck to them. “It’s all yours,” she said, gesturing to the bathroom. “I’m going to call your sister before it gets too late.” She settled into the other bed and pulled the blankets over her lap, squinting at her phone.
I grabbed my toiletries and locked myself in the bathroom, listening to her phone call through the door, filling in the gaps between her responses. Yes, Dad had remembered to take his medications. Yes, Georgia had found the meat loaf in the freezer. Yes, she was going to drive him to his doctor’s appointment in the morning. No, we wouldn’t be gone long, my mother assured her. Only a few days. Just long enough for me to relax and recover from what had happened at the police academy. No, Dad definitely shouldn’t take any of the blue pills while she was gone.
