Page 7 of Lucky Strike

“I’m glad you feel that way. He needs someone consistent,” she says, putting her legal pad on the table as she stands. “Bria, it has been so nice chatting with you. I’ll talk things over with Mr. Kelly, but I think you’re just right for our little man.”

My heart soars at her words as I rise from the couch. “Oh, that’s great! Thank you. I’ll leave my résumé.”

“That’s a good idea, yes.” Patting the manila folder I put on the table, she leads me back to the foyer. “You’ll hear from us soon, no more than a day. Mr. Kelly has a trip coming up this month, so getting this sorted is of utmost importance.”

“Sure, that sounds?—”

“Hold on, Nola,” a voice calls from overhead. It’s instantly recognizable, its smoky, deep timbre making the hairs on my arm stand up.

A tall man in navy slacks and a white dress shirt rolled at the sleeves comes down the stairs. He’s lean, but built, his tailored shirt draped over the muscular contours of his chest. His hair is black as midnight, the loose curls pushed back from his face, and he’s sinfully handsome. My stomach falls to my feet when his gray eyes meet mine, because I know this man. I know him all too well.

What the fuck, Maeve?

“Bria?” He slows to a stop, the incredulity on his face mirroring what I feel inside. “I thought that was you.”

My stomach knots up instantly. I take a deep, shaky breath and let it out as slowly as I can. “Hi, Lucky.”

3.Bria

9 Years Ago

When I was fifteen, my father’s parole was denied for the third time. He’d been incarcerated at Green Haven for four years for gang activity: selling drugs, armed robbery, and roughing people up. Stupid stuff. Some of the guys he went down with, who’d committed even worse crimes, were starting to get out, but not him. The system has ways of making you pay if you’re not rich or connected.

Taya and I hadn’t visited Dad in forever because he said he didn’t want us seeing him like that. My sister was fourteen when he went down and could hold a grudge like no other, so she took his absence personally and lived like he didn’t exist. But I wrote to him sometimes. We mostly talked about the books we were reading and the classes we were taking, me in school and him in jail.

Ma wrote to him all the time and went to see him once a month. She and Dad’s little sister, my Aunt Jada, kept money on his books and lit candles for him at Mass. My mother’s life was dedicated to three things: her nursing career, Dad, and keeping Taya and me in a protective bubble. Taya was in college now. You’d think Ma would relax, seeing as she’d succeeded with one kid, but she doubled down when it came tome, especially when it came to boys and the crime that she felt lurked around every corner. She’d grown up in the Bronx, just a few blocks away, and she’d raised her family here, but she no longer trusted it.

We were clearing the dinner table one night when she asked what I thought about Edenbrook Academy.”

“Never heard of it,” I said. “Is it in the City?”

“It’s a boarding school in Massachusetts, close to the one Uncle Manny went to.” She set our dirty plates on the counter. “Jada and I were talking.”

They were always talking. Auntie Jada and Ma had been tight since high school. I didn’t like the sound of this, though. Plugging the sink, I turned on the hot water. “Okay?”

“She and Manny don’t think you’re being challenged enough, not even with the gifted program. They feel you’d benefit from a private education.” No surprise there. I loved Uncle Manny, but he could be a little bougie with his law practice and his Park Slope brownstone.

“Is that right?” Taking off my dad’s signet ring so I wouldn’t lose it, I swished my hands around the warm water.

“They’ve offered to cover your tuition,” she blurted.

“What?” I looked at her, my amusement fading when I saw her flushed cheeks. “Is this about that shooting by the tire shop? I’m pretty sure that was a fluke, Ma.”

“Actually, they’re saying it’s gang-related,” she said quietly.

My heart sank. I’d never been out of New York. Leaving to go to some snobby boarding school in another state sounded almost as scary as the supposed crime wave we were having. I could see by the resolve in Ma’s eyes that she’d made up her mind. “You’ve already decided I’m going, haven’t you?”

“I think Edenbrook will be a really good thing. It’s beautiful out there.” She rubbed my back, imploring with her gaze. We had the same round face, the same heart-shaped mouths, and upturned eyes, light brown and gold-flecked. We were both 5”4. But her dark hair was straight, whereas mine was thick and curly. And my complexion fell somewhere between her creamy beige and Dad’s warm brown. “You can spend as much time outside as you want. Go for walks and hikes—it’ll be good for you, Bri.”

“Being here is good for me. What about Grammy?”

“Grammy’s fine.” She shook her head. “You deserve better.”

“What about you? You deserve better, too."

“We’ll all be fine! I just need you to try,” she pleaded. “One semester. If you hate it, you can come home.”

Yeah, right. Once I was safely ensconced at this ivory tower, far from everything Ma feared, she’d finally be able to relax. Not me, though. A wave of anxiety washed over me, making the knot in my stomach so tight I was afraid I’d be sick.

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