Mock jazz hands in the air. Linus ignores my reaction and tips his chin toward the parking lot. Ricky, like me, prefers to do business in cars. His car is nicer than my clients’ and he has a driver, but I’m still not giddy on this meet.

We stroll through the crowd, and I wonder what it would be like to be Evie. To have a decent home, great opportunities, yet still willingly choose to get sucked into the pit of numb.

“Can I ask you something?” I breach, when we reach that lonely place between leaving a crowd and halfway to where you’re heading.

“If it’s fucking crazy or makes no sense, then no.”

“You’re such a buzzkill.”

“Got a sane question or not?”

“What if I decline whatever it is that Ricky has to offer me?”

That causes Linus to stop so quickly that his upper body moves forward as his feet become lead. “Why would you do that?”

“Harvard wanted me today.”

His eyes laugh but not his mouth. “I’m sure Harvard wanted you. Lots of guys want you.”

I smirk, he raises his eyebrows, and I up the stakes by showing him the card. “We had interviews at school today. If I became a normal girl with normal extracurricular activities, I could possibly have a shot because he liked me. Liked. As in how I like bunnies and how you like raining on people’s parades or kicking puppies.”

Linus only reads the card, doesn’t touch it, and I find that interesting.

“You want to go to college?” Linus asks.

I shrug then nod.

“Tell Ricky. Chances are he’ll pay for it.”

“Is the five-hundred-word essay for the Gangster of the Year Scholarship due now or later? And do you think my topic of how to creatively dump a body during rush hour traffic will work or is he searching for something a little more mainstream like how to use technology to smuggle in heroin?”

Once again, no reaction. “Ricky likes smart.”

Bet he does. “That money doesn’t launder itself.”

“You said it.”

I pocket the card and a strange twinge of desperation rattles my bones. Last spring, when Isaiah was having problems with Eric, I told him that once he started down the path of illegal, there was no way out. Somehow, I had told Isaiah the truth, but lied to myself—thinking that if I stayed small-time, I’d be able to sneak out the back door.

A quick glance up at the stars and I don’t spot a thing. It’s a clear night, but we’re within the city so the stars’ light can’t compete. “What if at some point, I decide I don’t want to do this anymore?”

Linus studies me from head to toe. “You want out?”

Yes. “No.” Grams still needs me to work. “Curious is all.”

“You’re Mozart’s daughter...you’re one of our best sellers...”

It’s his pause that causes the trickle of dread.

“Unless there’s a damn good reason, Ricky isn’t going to let you go.”

I bite the inside of my mouth, just below my bottom lip and search for stabilization.

“That’s not a bad thing, Abby. It means you’re going to make a lot of money for the rest of your life.”

It means I’ll be a target for the rest of my life. It means becoming cold like Linus. It means loving nothing, knowing no one. It means one day I’ll have to sell things I don’t want to sell, do things I won’t want to do, become the unbecomable.

“If you’re scared about being shot again, don’t be. I’m moving up with you. I’ve always looked out for you, you know that, but it’s never been official. This time, it will be.”

“Never said I was scared and never said I needed a babysitter.”

“Won’t be like that. You’ll still have wide berth, but when stuff on the streets becomes unstable, it’s your side I’ll be next to.”

Which means my promotion is a promotion for Linus, as well. He’s a soldier in Ricky’s unseen wars and he’s moving up in the world.

Linus’s cell pings and as he checks the text the lights on Ricky’s SUV spring to life.

“You’re being rescheduled,” he says. “I’ll text you a new meet time tomorrow.”

My shoulder blades twitch like I’m being watched. “Are there problems?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” He gestures back to the party. “Go make Ricky some money. I’ll tell one of my guys to keep an eye on you.”

“I can handle myself.” I turn away from Linus and act like I’m heading back to the party. But really, I just want to avoid Ricky for as long as I can. This interruption was a gift, but regardless, this meeting with Ricky will happen and when it does, I will have passed the point of no return.

Logan

Isaiah’s in the driver’s seat of his Mustang. One hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift. His finger on the steering wheel taps at a constant, persistent rhythm. It’s fast, a bit maddening, and it represents how I feel. Across the parking lot is Abby and she’s talking to Linus.

Never knew I could hate another human being as much as I do him.

“Did you know she’d be here?” I ask.

Isaiah subtly nods. “She’s always here on Friday and Saturday nights. It was her father’s routine and now it’s hers.”

“How far back do you two go?”

“Far.”

Every night since I left Abby alone in her bedroom, Isaiah and I have been out searching for her shooter. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we don’t. When we do, it’s the debate of what to do when we find the bastard—the pros and cons of heading to the police.