Page 28 of Knight Moves

Mr. Kingston clasped his hand on the table. “Explain how a family is a weakness.”

“Because they mean the world to me. If someone wanted to hurt them or do wrong to them, it would cloud my judgment, make me susceptible to blackmail.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Coleman.” He turned his attention to Jax and studied him. “Mr. Drummond, how would you say your family has handled money and financial matters over the course of your lifetime?”

“Money?” Jax stared at him with in disbelief before he broke off laughing. “Wait. That’s my personal question? Seriously? You’re asking me about money?”

“Yes, Mr. Drummond. I’m asking how your family handled their finances while you were growing up.”

“That’s the wrong question to ask me.” Jax lifted his hands. “Therewasno money. I’m even not sure if my old man had a bank account. If he did, he never shared it with me.”

“But the bills were paid, correct?”

“Sometimes. By my mom mostly, and in later years by me. I suppose he handled some of the bills.”

“Okay, then I wish to adjust the question. How doyouhandle money, Mr. Drummond?”

“Me? If that’s a veiled way of asking me if I have a bank account, I don’t. Although you probably already know that. I’m a money-under-the-mattress kind of guy.” He snapped his fingers, and a hundred-dollar bill suddenly appeared in them. “I also like to keep spare change in my pocket, just in case.”

I gaped at how he’d made the money appear out of thin air, but Mr. Kingston didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. “How exactly do you earn that money that goes under the mattress?” he asked.

Jax’s fingers tightened on bill, but I might have been the only one who noticed. “Not illegally, if that’s what you’re asking. I take odd jobs after school and on the weekends. Cutting wood, working on cars, yard work. Sometimes I do construction. Stuff like that.”

Mr. Kingston studied Jax. “I see. Are those the jobs that earn you the most money?”

I wondered where Mr. Kingston was going with this line of questioning. Why did it matter whether Jax had money or not?

Jax’s face flushed slightly. It seemed like he was struggling with something to say before he finally answered. “No. That’s not where I get the good money.”

“Where does the ‘good money’ come from?”

His jaw tightened, and I could almost feel the tension rolling off him. “I get that by tutoring kids after school. Mostly math and physics. Sometimes I help engineering students at the community college. It pays well.”

“Do you ever do the homework for the students, Mr. Drummond?”

Jax stiffened but then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes. If the price is right.” His tone was flippant, but I could sense the embarrassment in his words. I swallowed hard, looking down at my hands. This felt wrong, making us expose deeply private things when we hardly knew each other. What was the point?

“Thank you, Mr. Drummond.” Mr. Kingston turned to me, and I braced myself for the worst.

“Ms. Sinclair,” he said. “Describe yourself at party that doesn’t include a family member. How do you act? Whom do you talk to?”

“A p-party?” I stammered.

“Yes, a social gathering with friends and acquaintances.”

“I, um, know what a party is. I just wasn’t expecting that question.” I hesitated, thinking the best way to approach the odd question. “Well, theoretically, if I had to go to a party, I would probably stand in a corner and not to talk to anyone.”

“Okay. Let’s not talk theoretically. Give me an example of how you’ve acted at an actual party in the past.”

Dread filled me at having to answer the question. I spoke so quietly, my voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been to a party before.” My cheeks burned in shame.

“All right, then,” Mr. Kingston said briskly, as if that embarrassing revelation wasn’t worth another moment of his time. “Onto the final round of questioning. Mr. Coleman, if you won a ten-million-dollar lottery prize this afternoon, what would be the first thing you’d spend the money on?”

Bo let out an audible breath, probably thankful he hadn’t gotten a weird question. “I’d buy a therapy dog for my older brother. He was in Afghanistan, and he’s got some issues. A dog would really help him a lot. We’ve applied for one, but we’re really far down on the list, and it’s expensive. But if I had ten million dollars, I’d not only buy the dog, but I’d hire a full-time trainer and a physical therapist to work with him.”

“Your nation is grateful for your brother’s service,” Mr. Kingston said.

Bo nodded his head and pressed his lips together. My heart squeezed in sympathy.

---