Page 17 of Blood in the Water
We’d gotten a ride from Cas’s Irish friend, Colin. Apparently, he was high up in the Irish Mob, and yet I was so far out of my own emotions that it hadn’t bothered me even a bit. Nor had I wondered how Cas had become friends with a boss in the Irish Mob. Nothing really mattered.
My father was dead. My family’s legacy was gone, stolen by the man I loved. There was a hit out on me. I was alone in the world, with nothing left.
I hadn’t felt so hollow since my mother died, but at least then, I’d had Max to help me through it.
Now it was Max himself who ruined my fucking life. The man who was supposed to be my future had taken everything from me. Nothing stood in his way of assuming control of the legacy that rightfully belonged to me. Everything my father had worked so damn hard for was gone in a single pull of a trigger. And there was nothing I could do about it.
Everything was so fucking pointless besides the conscious effort of every breath I took for Cas and Cas alone. If he wanted me to find some clothes, then I’d find some fucking clothes.
Colin waited outside in the car, smoking a cigarette. Once we were done shopping, the Irish were going to help us hop a plane to the West Coast. Cas knew some Russians he thought could get us some fake passports.
Eventually, I’d have to ask him how he knew people from so many different criminal families.
I brushed my hand over the clothing racks, looking for anything dark and inconspicuous. The only thing I cared about was that it fit. I had already pulled out some jeans, unopened packs of new underwear, a few black or gray shirts, and a pairof black lace-up boots. Anything to get me through the next few days; I didn’t care what it looked like.
My hand caught on a jacket covered in silver and gold costume jewels. It was ostentatiously shiny, a statement piece that looked like it could have been part of a Rockette costume. I frowned before pushing it aside. Probably would never wear jewels again, even if they were fake. There was no color in the world, anyway.
One breath at a time.
“Not for you?” A voice squeaked beside me.
I jumped, hand going for the folded-up pocket knife Cas had placed in the big pocket of the sweatshirt and told me to use it if anyone came near. I flicked my eyes to where he was shopping a few rows away, and already he had frozen to look in my direction. His eyes turned hard, and his hand reached inside his jacket. But as my fingers clamped around the handle, I realized it was just a mousy young woman with sunken, watery eyes and straw-blonde hair. I let go of the knife and shook my head at Cas.
“Not for me,” I said while shopping down the rack. I could probably do with another shirt and another pair of pants. I didn’t have much room in the backpack Cas had picked out for me.
“So you don’t mind if I…?” she asked timidly, wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand.
I shook my head, and she instantly grabbed the jacket like it was a prized possession. A huge smile broke across her face, showing rows of straight yet slightly yellow teeth. The more I looked at her, the more I noticed how bone-thin she was underneath her drab clothes.
Something about the girl itched at me, and I furrowed my brows as I tried to place why I knew her. She was likely seventeen… eighteen? Where did Cas say we were again? Philadelphia?
“You from around here?” I asked. Cas glared daggers in my direction, urging me to get away and move on, but something about her had me stuck.
She looked up and quickly looked down again, letting go of the jacket and stepping back.
“Oh,” she said as she shifted from foot to foot. “Well… no. Not exactly… Um. I—I just recently… moved.”
I raised an eyebrow. Why was she being so sketchy? “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just going to ask if you knew anywhere good to eat.”
She tightened her lips together. “No. Sorry.”
I shopped silently for a few more moments while watching her out of the corner of my eye. Why did she look so familiar? And why did I even care that much? I grabbed a plain dark gray shirt that felt surprisingly nice and held it up to my body. “Does this look like it fits?”
Her eyes flicked up, and she relaxed a little bit. “Looks a little big, but it’ll work. Except it’s really boring.”
“Great.” A tiny ghost of a smile pulled the side of my mouth up. Chiara would have told me it was an ugly excuse for clothing before snatching it out of my hand and buying it only for the soft and supple fabric. She loved to upcycle her clothing. Once I got a phone, I’d try to get in touch to let her know I was alive. I bit my lip to keep tears from pricking the corner of my eyes. I missed her.
Nope. Can’t think about that. Bury those emotions right down deep where nobody can find them, especially not me.
I looked back at the young woman as she continued to browse. “Hey, you look kinda familiar. Have you ever been to New York?”
Recognition flashed across her face, like she knewmetoo, and she jerked back a bit. Immediately, she closed down and glanced over her shoulder. “Um. Maybe. A while ago.”
Suddenly, it clicked. I’d seen her at the gas station countless times near my college, begging for money. I bought her a burrito and a soda a few weeks ago before dropping it off at her feet. I didn’t even stop to chat with her then or ask her how she was doing. The week after that, she was gone, and I just figured she’d moved on to her next spot.
She recognized me, too. But she wouldn’t say anything, so I wouldn’t either. Why’d she come to Philadelphia? And how’d she get here? Maybe she’d saved enough for a bus ticket and made her way to family.
I shouldn’t care.
