“I wired it from my work account.” His “work account” being a business credit card on which I eventually paid the balance.
“Aidan, you didn’t.”
He shook his head. “I know how much you like to control everything and everyone, but I don’t need your permission to do what I know is best for our daughter. And that’strustingher. She’s not a child anymore. She’s practically—sheisa grown woman. She’s allowed to have secrets.”
“She wasjustdating a drug dealer! He got her to work for him. She almost failed out of school!”
“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“It’s accurate!” I gritted my teeth. I needed to calm down. “Aidan, get the money back from Cleo.Please.”
“I’m not going to do that, Kat. Our relationship is based on mutual trust and respect.”
“You mean that you’re her friend and not her father?”
“Throw all the stones you want, Kat, because your relationship with Cleo is going swimmingly, right?”
“Fuck you, Aidan.”
Aidan closed his eyes and stayed quiet for a minute.
“Listen, I’m sorry, Kat,” he said. “You know I didn’t mean that. I’m having a hard time. That’s all.” He gestured with a hand in my direction—me, the separation. “With all of this.”
I stood up. I’d had enough manipulation for one day.
“Get Cleo to tell you what’s going on. We need proof this time—actual evidence of where that money went,” I said, drivingmy finger into the tabletop. “I don’t care what you have to do to get it. But if you don’t, I am not giving you a dime.”
As I walked toward the West Fourth Street station, the anxiety came in waves. I couldn’t leave this in Aidan’s hands, couldn’t just go home to stew. And so I decided instead to do what I would have done if Cleo were a client’s child mixed up in something: investigate. Want to know what someone is really up to? Watch them. Of course, when it was client-related, I never felt guilty doing it.
From a bench in Washington Square Park, I could barely make out the entrance to Cleo’s dorm. I had no idea if she was in there or not. I felt so relieved when I finally saw the light go on in what I knew was Cleo’s third-floor window. I’d counted the balconies on move-in day.
My phone buzzed then with a text.
I know everything. And it’s about time the rest of the world does, too.
My anonymous friend, again. I was gripping my phone so tightly, my fingers were burning. I considered telling whoever it was to go ahead and set a price. I was willing to pay quite a lot for this person to go away. But offering moneybeforesomeone demanded it significantly weakened your negotiating position. Pushing back hard, on the other hand, was always a safe place to start.
Fuck off,I replied.
When I glanced up, Cleo was on the sidewalk in front of her dorm—veryshort skirt,verytall boots. She was with two girls I didn’t recognize. One of the other girls was a brunette, the other a blonde, neither half as striking as Cleo. She was a standout kind of beauty. I’d told her this once, but she took it as an insult. I still didn’t understand why. But your kids didn’t give you points for intent, only for how you made them feel.
I was relieved as I watched the girls start off together, arm in arm. Good normal fun, a regular night out. But then Cleo peeled off suddenly and headed the other way. Alone.Shit.
Without thinking, I was on my feet, following her carefully—at a safe distance, on the opposite side of the street. When Cleo’s stride turned quick and purposeful, a determined march more than a walk, I almost had to jog to keep up. She looked like she was off to do something she’d talked herself into, and all I kept thinking wasDon’t do it. Don’t do it.
I followed as she continued deep into the West Village on Christopher Street, pausing in front of a building with a crystal shop on the ground floor and a basement store of some kind, lit up and cheerful enough, though I couldn’t make out the sign from across the street. Cleo drew her shoulders back. Like she was steeling herself.Don’t do it.
She retrieved an envelope from her bag before descending the stairs. I thought about running across the street, dragging her back up the steps, away from whatever lay at the bottom. But of course I could not. Soon a woman in expensive-looking athleisure descended the same steps, talking on the phone. After her came a young, attractive banker type in a very expensive suit. At least these people did not look associated with anything criminal. And it appeared to be a safe, public space.
I jumped when my phone rang, the volume up too loud. Another unknown number.
“Hello?” I answered tentatively.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I jerked the phone away from my ear. “You have to stop avoiding me!”
Vivienne. Perfect.
“Donotyell at me, Vivienne,” I said calmly.
