“And by ‘nefarious’ you mean …?”
Angelo shrugged. “In this business, there is always danger. And there is always money to be made. He could have trained you himself, had you open bank vaults for the wrong people, crack safes that were never meant to be opened.” His voice trailed off, and I knew Angelo was thinking about even worse fates for me.
“Do you know who it was?” I asked.
“He was a new recruit,” Angelo explained. His eyes were fixed on the Angel statue, not even looking at me. “Oscar Young. He had only been with us a few months before the kidnapping attempt. His plan was to grab you on the east side of Gramercy Park.”
“Well, what happened to him?” I peeked over my shoulder, suddenly very aware of my surroundings, but Angelo just patted my hand.
“Not to worry, my love, he died. His body washed up in South America a few months later.” But Angelo’s mouth was tight, and the crease between his eyes was deeper than ever.
I swallowed hard. “Um, Angelo? Did you—?”
“Oh, no, no, darling. I didn’t kill him. I would have, but somebody beat me to it.” He glanced down at me and gave me a small smile. “Unfortunately.”
“So then what? Did my parents get a ton of extra security? Did you put a microchip in me?” I felt the back of my neck. “You microchipped me, didn’t you.”
Angelo’s smile widened. “Of course not. And yes, security increased for all of us for a few months. Colton was … poor Colton, he was beside himself. He was the one who had brought Oscar Young into the Collective, had sworn that Oscar was one of the best in the business. Colton was absolutely gutted when he found out about the kidnapping attempt.”
I tried to imagine Colton Hooper being anything except smooth and unruffled. I couldn’t do it.
“He apologized and swore to your parents that he would always look out for your personal safety. He effectively assigned himself to your family. I still remember his words exactly. He said, ‘I suppose Oscar Young was no knight in shining armor.’” Angelo shook his head. “An understatement if ever I heard one.”
My head felt too small to hold all this new information. “So Oscar Young is dead?” I asked.
Angelo’s face became gentle. “Oh, love, I’ve scared you, haven’t I.”
“No, I’m not scared,” I told him, and I wasn’t. “I’m angry, though. I want to dropkick Oscar Young off a tall building and then give Colton a hug.”
Angelo laughed. “Well, your first wish is nearly as impossible as your second,” he told me. “How does your generation say? Colton Hooper does not do hugs.”
“So you’ve met him?”
“A few times, yes. Right after the kidnapping attempt. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look of devastation on his face.”
Something in me burned bright when Angelo said that. I had an entire network of people supporting me, protecting me, looking out for me. Including, I realized with a guilty jolt, my parents.
“I bet my parents freaked out.”
“Yes, they did. In fact, you were the only one who remained unruffled. You were just excited to dress up as a ghost.” Angelo looked down at me. “I suspect that this incident is the reason your parents were a bit upset when you didn’t come home last night. Especially since this happened in New York.”
“Yeah, you think?” I said. “If they had just told me, though! I mean, it was ten years ago. I can handle that news.”
“I can also tell you that your parents were not thrilled about accepting the assignment here,” Angelo continued. “They didn’t want to put you in such a central role.” He paused before adding, “I think they have been surprised to discover that you’ve grown up before their eyes.”
I thought about the night before, about the party and dragging Roux to her bedroom and kissing Jesse on the cold stoop, about all the ways I had grown up that my parents hadn’t even begun to realize. “Well, I did,” I said. “I grew up. That’s usually what happens to kids.”
“So they say.” Angelo grinned down at me. “I’m telling you this not to frighten you, of course. I just think you should know the truth about how valuable your talents are, as well as how strongly we all want to protect you.”
“But they can’t protect me from everything. Even if I were just an average kid, they couldn’t.”
“No, they cannot, that’s true. Nor can I. You have to have the good judgment to protect yourself.”
I wondered if this was starting to steer toward the safesex speech, so I quickly steered it far, far away. “Maybe I could just dress up as a ghost again.”
Angelo smiled and patted my knee. “A subtle response, to be sure.”
“Well, I learn from the best.” I grinned back.
“Touché.” Angelo straightened his cufflinks again. “So what else does the day hold for you? Studies, I assume?”
“Ha, yeah, no. I just saw my friend Roux and she’s sort of exhausting. I think I need a nap.”
“Ah yes, little Miss Je Ne Sais Quoi. And what about Jesse Oliver? Are you enjoying his friendship, too?”
I blushed. I couldn’t help it. “Yes,” I said. “I enjoy his friendship.” That seemed to be the safest non-lie answer. “But don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
Angelo arched an eyebrow at me and didn’t say a word.
“I do!” I protested. “I’ve got this one in the bag. Trust me.”
“I have always trusted you,” Angelo said. “Never forget that.” He glanced up at the tourists who were walking back through the garden. “There are many untrustworthy people,” he replied, and in his voice I heard a brief second of worry that had never been there before, “but you, darling, are not one of them.”
I thought about kissing Jesse the night before and didn’t say anything.
“Now, you seem to be in need of an umbrella before you go. Take mine.”
“But what about you?” I asked as he pressed it into my hand. It was heavy, made of oak and canvas, the base inscribed with the same A that was on Angelo’s cufflinks and business cards. It wasn’t the kind of umbrella that you could buy for five dollars from a vendor at the subway entrance, that was for sure.
“A little rain shower is good for an old man like me,” he said as we walked toward the exit. “It keeps me young.” The car was waiting at the curb, just as I had left it, and Angelo hustled me into the backseat. “Talk to your parents,” he said before shutting the door. “They’re looking out for your best interests, just as I am.”
“Okay, I will,” I promised. “Get home safe! Stay dry!”
But he had already shut the door and was strolling up Seventieth Street. I looked out the back window as the driver pulled out into traffic, but Angelo had already turned the corner and melted into the soaked crowd, like the rain had washed him away.
Chapter 16
Back in the car, I dialed Jesse’s number.
“Hi,” he said, picking up before the second ring. “I’m glad you called me back.”
“Of course I did. You have my coat.”
There was a pause. “Oh,” he finally said. “Oh, I thought …”
“I’m kidding!” I said. “Oh my God, I’m kidding! I mean, I’m not kidding about the fact that you have my coat, that part was true. But I would have called you anyway.”
“Well, do you want to come over and pick it up?”
I thought fast. Armand was probably in the house and I couldn’t risk running into him. “Why don’t we meet somewhere?” I said. “Have you had coffee yet?”
He just laughed. “Why don’t we meet at Grey Dog on Mulberry? Does that work? They have good coffee. You like coffee?”
“I like it like breathing.”
“Good answer. Thirty minutes?”
I glanced outside at the rain. “Sure, that’s fine. Don’t forget your umbrella.”
“Okay, thanks, Mom.”
“It’s raining! I’m trying to help you out!” But we were both giggling. “Fine, get wet. See if I care.”
r />
“Twenty-nine minutes. Don’t be late.”
I stuck my tongue out at the phone as I hung up. “So annoying,” I muttered, but I was smiling as I said it.
“Two minutes to spare!” I said as I leaped out of the car, dodging between the now-calmer raindrops. “I’m early! What do I win?”
Jesse looked up at his phone and tapped it. “Oh, no no no,” he said. “My phone says it’s been thirty minutes. You’re exactly on time.”
“Let me see that,” I said, but he held it out of reach over my head. “Your phone is biased and a liar. It looks shifty.”
“How dare you,” Jesse said, and when I went to grab for it again, I stumbled over my boots and half tripped, half tumbled into him. “Whoa, easy there.”
“It’s the rain,” I said. “I’m slipping on everything.” That wasn’t true, but I needed to say something to make up for the fact that I was starting to blush. “And hi.”
“Hi,” he said, smiling down at me. “Nice to see you again.”
“A pleasure, I’m sure.” I hung on to his sleeve while righting myself, and when I was steady, he handed me my coat. “I made sure that Max didn’t shed all over it,” he said. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks. And tell Max thanks, too.” Jesse held it for me while I slipped my arms into the sleeves, then helped me pull my hair out from under the collar. “Good as new!” I said. “Where’s the coffee?”
“Are your eyes dilated?”
“I just really like coffee.”
“Do you think you may have a problem with caffeine addiction?”
“I only have a problem with caffeine when there isn’t any caffeine.” The line was already forming out the door and I craned to see how far away the cash register was.
“Look at you!” Jesse laughed. “You’re twitching!”
“Maybe we should get in line.”
“Maybe we should get you to a methadone clinic,” he replied, but let me drag him into line, anyway.
We left the coffee shop twenty minutes later, sweet coffee in hand, as I gave my driver the signal to stay where he was. “I couldn’t help but notice that you weren’t wearing your ring,” Jesse said.
I yelped and quickly moved to cover my hand. “It’s being resized at the jeweler’s!”
“I don’t want to make it weird or anything!” he said, even though we were both laughing by now. “I just couldn’t help but notice!”
“It was sending me into diabetic shock just by wearing it!” I cried. “I didn’t do it for me, I did it for us!”
He playfully shoved me, then grabbed my elbow and saved me from plowing into a bunch of women with handheld shopping carts. “Sorry,” I said to them. “It’s the caffeine, makes me all wobbly.”
They looked unamused, and Jesse and I turned the corner, heading toward absolutely nowhere. “So …,” I said, wiping some stray coffee off the lid with my thumb.
“Sooooo …,” Jesse said.
“So that happened.”
“What did?”
“We kissed.”
“We did? I’m kidding!” he said when he saw my face. “You looked like you were about to cry! I’m only kidding, I swear.”
“I wasn’t going to cry; I was going to murder you.” Note to self: Hide emotions better.
“Oh, well, that’s more like it. And yes, we kissed.” He shot a sidelong glance at me. “Are we still cool with that or …?”
“Oh, we’re cool. We’re very cool. No worries there, my friend. We are A-OOOOOO-KAY.” Shut up, Maggie. Just stop talking right now. Right this very second. I mean it.
“So, we’re not going into some weird friends zone?”
“What? No! I mean, unless you want to. Do you want to?”
“No. Do you?”
“No. Okay, wait.” I reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling us under an awning and out of the way of the rest of the pedestrians. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird. I just wanted to make sure that you were cool with everything.”
“I don’t know how I can say this any more clearly: I’m really glad you kissed me last night.”
“Yeah, but then you didn’t call me back right away this morning and I was just worried …”
“You were worried because it took me fifteen minutes to call you back?”
“Um, maybe?” Jesse smiled, but his eyes were nervous and he kept running his hand through his hair, making it curlier with every swipe. It was kind of adorable, but he seemed agonized.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said. “A quick one?”
“Of course.”
“Which girl screwed you over?”
His eyes widened even as his shoulders relaxed. “So Roux told you.”
“Roux didn’t tell me anything, amazingly enough.”
“Wow, that’s cool of her.”
“Names. I want names.”
“Claire Thomason.” He took another deep breath. “Last year, right around Christmas. Messed me up pretty bad.”
So not only was his mom MIA, but he had been emotionally crippled by an ex-girlfriend. Leave it to me to be assigned to the most wounded bird in all of Manhattan. “Tell you what,” I said, looping my arm through his. “Let’s walk and talk about Claire.”
And that’s what we did for a good hour, winding our way up and down the streets of Nolita in downtown Manhattan. He had dated Claire for six months and was head over heels for her, but she always gave him mixed signals, wouldn’t return his calls, and so on. “It was like we’d make out all night on Saturday and then on Sunday, nothing. No phone call, text, IM, nothing.”
“Which is why you’re trying to put me in the friend zone,” I said. “I’m not a therapist, but I think you might be transferring your feelings for Claire onto me.” I definitely wasn’t a therapist, just a kid who had spent way too many summers watching Oprah and Dr. Phil reruns.
“I know,” he said, rubbing his hand over his face and making a growly sound that was more cute than threatening. “You girls are confusing.”
“Well, guys are confusing, too. Look at Roux and her pothead Romeo. That looks like it was a huge disaster. Everyone sort of screws everything up all the time. It doesn’t mean they’re not trying their best.”
“Are you saying Claire was trying her best?” Jesse looked dubious.
“No, I’m saying that we should try our best. And that means talking about things like Claire and being honest with each other.” Even as I was saying the words, I could feel the lump forming in my throat. Here I was, talking about honesty while lying through my teeth. “Or, at least, as honest as we know how to be.”
He glanced down at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation like this with a girl in my life.”
“Well, if we’re going to be honest, then I should tell you that I’m just trying to get you to kiss me again.”
“Really?”
“I’m losing patience, too.”
He bent down and kissed me. Softer this time, not like last night. “Thanks,” he whispered against my mouth. “I mean it.”
“Of course,” I whispered back, then kissed him again. “So, Claire,” I said after we separated a few minutes later. “Tell me about her. What does she look like? Where does she live? Does she have any fears? Phobias? Is she afraid of death?”
Jesse looped his arm around my neck and kissed the top of my head. “Sometimes you scare me.” He grinned. “It’s kind of hot.”
Chapter 17
On Monday morning, I woke up earlier than normal, which put my nerves on edge. And by the time I showered, dressed, and made my way into the kitchen, I realized that I was right to be edgy: both my parents were seated at the table. So was Angelo.
I hesitated in the doorway. “Let me guess,” I said. “You didn’t get together this early in the morning because there’s good news.”
My mom gestured toward an empty seat at the table. “Here, come sit down. We need to talk.”
This day was
already off with a bang, I could tell.
After I poured myself some coffee and settled myself at the table across from them, Angelo threaded his fingers together, then rested his chin on top of them. “That flash drive,” he began, “definitely had some things on it.”
“Well, I hope so,” I said, then took a sip of coffee and immediately burned my tongue. “Ow!”
“Maggie,” my dad said. “You need to focus right now.”
“I am focused. I’m focused on the searing pain, ow.”
Angelo passed me an iPad. “This is what we found once we hacked the password.”
I took the tablet, almost scared of what I would see, but when I looked at the first images, I realized that they were baby photos of Jesse. Dressed up for Halloween as Batman; grinning on what looked like the first day of school; posed with a bat over his shoulder in a Little League uniform.
My first thought? Oh shit, these aren’t the documents.
My second thought? How cute was Jesse when he was a little kid!
“This?” I said. “This is what was on there?”
My mom, dad, and Angelo all nodded silently. I could hear everything they weren’t saying: You messed up. The information is still out there. The article will be run and our family will be exposed.
“Well, I mean, it was hidden! It was in a hidden safe with a hidden key, and do you know what I went through to find it? It wasn’t easy! There was a party and a ninja and then this karao—!”
“Maggie.” My dad interrupted me again, but I interrupted him right back.
“Look,” I said. “You trained me to open safes. You didn’t train me to know what was in the safes before I opened them. I saw a safe, I opened it, there was a flash drive, and here we are.”
“We need to find the information,” my mother said. “If you don’t think you can do this, then—”
“But I thought I did do it!” I protested. But I knew I sounded childish, exactly what a spy isn’t supposed to be. Even I was annoyed with myself.
You know how sometimes you realize you’re doing or saying the wrong thing, but you just can’t stop yourself? You can literally hear the words coming out of your mouth and you just want to shove them back in because the real you, the good you, would never want to be this way, but you just keep going?