“Sure.”
He exhales slowly through his nose, already tired of where this is going. “You done?”
“No,” I snap. “Actually, I’m fucking not. Apparently you knew what was going on in my own house, and I didn’t.”
I watch the river keep moving, carrying away whatever shit it picks up. It all just gets washed away, and maybe that’s the point. Maybe the only way to keep going is to be just as cold, to not give a shit about anything either.
I change the subject because, unfortunately, I want to know.
“So what are you even doing now?” I ask. “You working? Or just riding around looking for lost girls?”
“I work.”
“Oh really?”
“Pawn shop.”
I blink. “That pawn shop at the Cut?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Real nice.”
His expression hardens instantly. “Better than working for my family.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Been there since the pit,” he adds, the words tossed out like they mean nothing.
I frown. “Since the?—”
“The owner found me,” he says. “Not long after.”
“What do you mean, ‘found you’?”
Jax shrugs. “He saw what happened. Said he understood.”
“Understood what?”
His eyes go to the dark water. For a split of a second, he looks younger. “He lost his son to it.”
“What? To The Pit?”
“Yeah. Guess he goes there to feel close to his kid. He was there that night. Everyone else was losing their minds and I didn’t know what to do. He didn’t ask questions and helped me.”
I think about asking questions myself about that night. I still have no idea what exactly happened after we climbed out, but this isn’t the time or place.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette, tapping it against the pack before lighting it. He takes a drag, then holds it out toward me. I look at him before taking it.
“You know what people say about Tar City?” I ask.
Jax glances at me. “That we’re lucky to have our own wishing well?” A corner of his mouth moves. “If I had to guess.”
I shake my head, staring out at the ugly, glowing skyline. “No. That’s the tourist version. The story people tell themselves to make it sound mystical instead of fucked up.”
He watches me as I take another drag then pass it back to him.
“They don’t actually talk about The Pit. They treat that as joke, honestly,” I continue. “They talk about the people runningthis place. The ones running things so deep nobody even knows their names anymore.”
