Page 12 of Dance of Deception

I shake my head. “I’m just tired.”

“Lyra.”

I make the mistake of hesitating, just for a second.

“Tell me,” she insists, peering at me with alcohol-numbed but viciously focused eyes.

I exhale slowly. “Some guy recognized me,” I say, the words falling out before I can pull them back in. “Just now, at the bodega on the corner.”

Vera doesn’t react at first. Her glass hovers near her lips, the vodka sloshing against the rim as she sways slightly in her seat. Then, she sniffs and takes a slow sip, her bleary gaze shifting to me.

“Recognized you?”

“From the trial.” The word tastes bitter.

Vera’s eyes sharpen in a way I haven’t seen for a long time, cutting through the haze of alcohol. Her lips twist into a sneering smirk and she lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“Of course he did,” she mutters. “Who was he? One of those cocksucking reporters? Another vulture?”

My gaze drops to my hands. “ChrisHodgkins.”

I remembered the name on my way upstairs. I recall seeing him outside the courtroom during those manic, fever-dream days. I also recall the biting, ruthless interview he gave to the press following my dad’s sentencing, vowing to ‘make sure Arkadi’s accomplices see justice too’.”

Vera’s brow’s knit. “Who?” she grunts.

“Jordana Hodgkins’ brother.”

My mother scowls. “I don't know who the hell that?—”

“She’s one of the girls your husband raped and murdered,” I blurt coldly.

The room goes quiet. My mother’s eyes narrow on me, her lips pursing.

“All those cops, the lawyers, the goddamn reporters. They twisted it. Turned you against him.”

I groan, turning away.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard Mom’s insane version of history, especially when she’s shitfaced like this. But I don’t have it in me tonight to listen.

“Mom—”

“God knows Arkadi wasn’t perfect,” she scoffs. “I knew he had his girls on the side. I wasn’t happy about it, but I wasn’t gonna throw him in prison for life for a bunch of shit they made up just because I was mad at?—”

“Oh myGod, Mom,” I hurl back. “Enough! He didn’t go to prison for cheating on you! He went to prison because?—”

“Because you put him there!” she screeches, lurching to her feet and splashing her drink all over the place. “Because those fuckers got to you and turned you against your own father! You stood up there in that courtroom, all high and mighty, and ran your mouth,” she spits, her voice thick with scorn. “Cried your little crocodile tears and told them everything they wanted to hear. Gave themeverythingthey needed to put him away.”

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. “I told thetruth.”

Vera’s laugh is sharp, cutting. “Yeah. And look where that got you.” She spreads her arms wide, gesturing to the shabby apartment around us. “Look where it gotme.”

I shake my head, turning away. There’s no use arguing. There never is.

“Good night, Vera.”

But before I can take a step, there’s a loud, heavy knock on the door.

My mom stiffens slightly, her grip tightening around her glass.

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