can’t think right. I can’t even breathe right. And the rest of the drive I spend desperately reconstituting my poker face.
Unfortunately, pulling into the prison parking lot doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better. Lots of ways to die in a prison. Or worse—get locked up. I hate prisons. And police stations. And doughnut shops. Being surrounded by cops makes me feel claustrophobic. But then I’ve said that already, haven’t I? Let me just say it again. Cops make me edgy.
“Will you be all right?” Dani asks as I shift to get out of the car.
“Yeah, fine.” I lift the door handle. “No hit man in his right mind would try anything this close to a prison.”
“I meant about seeing your father. About asking him about your mother.”
I dredge up enough courage to look at her. “I’m okay. He’s the one you should be worried about.”
She nods, and I take that as permission to leave. I sign in at the front desk and walk down the familiar hall to the visitors’ area. Thanks to Mike, my dad ended up in a medium-security prison, which means no bulletproof glass walls with phones on either side. It’s more like a conference room with tables and chairs. Only the tables and chairs are bolted to the floor.
I’m the first visitor of the day, which is not my favorite thing. I hate having guards overhear my talks with my dad. It’s a pain having to censor everything. My dad enters from the inmate door and gives me a big smile. He looks older every time I come. Being imprisoned is taking its toll on him.
I give him a hug. He feels thinner. I swallow the rock in my throat and take a seat across from him.
“Any news on your mom or Ralph?” It’s his first question, always. Usually, my answer is no, but today…There’s so much to tell him that I don’t have a clue where to start.
“You found her,” he says quietly, sorrow shadowing his face.
“No,” I say. “I found a missing-person article. From the same time you left thirteen-year-old me stranded without a word for two weeks.”
He looks down at his hands.
“What aren’t you telling me about her family? About my family?”
“All I know—all she would ever tell me—was that she had a falling-out with her family. That she didn’t want to talk about it, wouldn’t even consider reconnecting with them. Ever. After a while, I stopped pushing.”
“You could have gotten it out of her if you wanted to. You’re one of the best con artists there is.”
He smiles halfheartedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Julep. But your mom would not bend on it, and I figured it was her right. Whatever happened to her, it never interfered with us…until it did.”
“You think she left us because of her family?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s a guess at best.”
But his guesses are always more than just guesses. His grifter instincts penetrate other people’s motivations with laser precision.
“Was she running away from them, or back to them?”
“I don’t know, honey. I really don’t. Her going missing at the same time I was…out of town…It’s just a coincidence.”
Right. Coincidence.
“What does sixty-three mean?”
He eyes me sharply. “It’s your mom’s favorite number. I’m not sure why.” He smiles at some memory I’ll never share. “She had it tattooed on her right hip.”
“Did you know there’s a place called Bar63 in town?” I don’t tell him it’s new. I want to see if he’ll let something slip.
“I didn’t,” he says. And he’s so good that I can’t tell what he’s lying about. “I’d never been to Chicago before the three of us moved here.”
“With all the grifting, you’d never once been to Chicago,” I say suspiciously.
“I spent a lot of time in Thailand.”
I used to trust my father. When did that change? When he didn’t tell me he was working for the mob and then got abducted for his trouble? Or before that? When he abandoned me for those two weeks during which my mother also
Unfortunately, pulling into the prison parking lot doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better. Lots of ways to die in a prison. Or worse—get locked up. I hate prisons. And police stations. And doughnut shops. Being surrounded by cops makes me feel claustrophobic. But then I’ve said that already, haven’t I? Let me just say it again. Cops make me edgy.
“Will you be all right?” Dani asks as I shift to get out of the car.
“Yeah, fine.” I lift the door handle. “No hit man in his right mind would try anything this close to a prison.”
“I meant about seeing your father. About asking him about your mother.”
I dredge up enough courage to look at her. “I’m okay. He’s the one you should be worried about.”
She nods, and I take that as permission to leave. I sign in at the front desk and walk down the familiar hall to the visitors’ area. Thanks to Mike, my dad ended up in a medium-security prison, which means no bulletproof glass walls with phones on either side. It’s more like a conference room with tables and chairs. Only the tables and chairs are bolted to the floor.
I’m the first visitor of the day, which is not my favorite thing. I hate having guards overhear my talks with my dad. It’s a pain having to censor everything. My dad enters from the inmate door and gives me a big smile. He looks older every time I come. Being imprisoned is taking its toll on him.
I give him a hug. He feels thinner. I swallow the rock in my throat and take a seat across from him.
“Any news on your mom or Ralph?” It’s his first question, always. Usually, my answer is no, but today…There’s so much to tell him that I don’t have a clue where to start.
“You found her,” he says quietly, sorrow shadowing his face.
“No,” I say. “I found a missing-person article. From the same time you left thirteen-year-old me stranded without a word for two weeks.”
He looks down at his hands.
“What aren’t you telling me about her family? About my family?”
“All I know—all she would ever tell me—was that she had a falling-out with her family. That she didn’t want to talk about it, wouldn’t even consider reconnecting with them. Ever. After a while, I stopped pushing.”
“You could have gotten it out of her if you wanted to. You’re one of the best con artists there is.”
He smiles halfheartedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Julep. But your mom would not bend on it, and I figured it was her right. Whatever happened to her, it never interfered with us…until it did.”
“You think she left us because of her family?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s a guess at best.”
But his guesses are always more than just guesses. His grifter instincts penetrate other people’s motivations with laser precision.
“Was she running away from them, or back to them?”
“I don’t know, honey. I really don’t. Her going missing at the same time I was…out of town…It’s just a coincidence.”
Right. Coincidence.
“What does sixty-three mean?”
He eyes me sharply. “It’s your mom’s favorite number. I’m not sure why.” He smiles at some memory I’ll never share. “She had it tattooed on her right hip.”
“Did you know there’s a place called Bar63 in town?” I don’t tell him it’s new. I want to see if he’ll let something slip.
“I didn’t,” he says. And he’s so good that I can’t tell what he’s lying about. “I’d never been to Chicago before the three of us moved here.”
“With all the grifting, you’d never once been to Chicago,” I say suspiciously.
“I spent a lot of time in Thailand.”
I used to trust my father. When did that change? When he didn’t tell me he was working for the mob and then got abducted for his trouble? Or before that? When he abandoned me for those two weeks during which my mother also
Similar Books
