Page 2 of Hide and Keep

“If you have the app, you could probably do it right now.”

“I don’t.”

“You could download it.”

I bob my head slowly, noncommittally. “Or I could try calling?”

Inching forward to a cacophony of thumping sound systems, the driver’s shoulders do a little shimmy, and he mumbles something about it being after hours, probably unaware that people like my father don’t have any real limitations.

And for tonight, neither do I.

When my father’s financial advisor answers, he does it already knowing who I am even though I’ve never called him directly before.

“Good evening, Miss Munreaux. How may I assist you?” His smooth, professional tone doesn’t hold a trace of irritation at being inconvenienced at nine p.m. on a Saturday.

I think about how I’d word the request if my father were right next to me.

“Some funds need moved around.”

“Absolutely. I’d be happy to assist you with that. Which account are you wanting to withdraw from? And how much?”

“Three hundred thousand taken out of the money market account.”

The line goes silent, meanwhile the driver begins choking. Or at least that’s what it sounds like.

“I’ll need to call your father to get approval for that amount,” the advisor says finally.

“Oh, no need. He’s right here.”

As soon as the driver whips his head over his shoulder to gape at me, I mute the call and start begging.

“How do I know your dad would approve of you taking three hundred grand from him? You’re just a kid!”

I try not to bristle at his words. I am not a kid. I’ll be nineteen in a couple of weeks.

“It’s notthatmuch,” I say, because to me, it’s not. To most people, I’m sure it’s inconceivable to even have three hundred thousand dollars readily available.

“Not that much? That’s more than my house is worth!”

“I’m not taking any money out. I’m just moving it around, I promise. My father, Arthur Munreaux…” I let that marinate for a moment. Everyone in this state knows that name. They teach it in state history classes in high school. “He told me himself to do this. Please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”

He eyes me skeptically. “What kind of emergency?”

What would he consider an emergency? He thinks I’m just a kid.

Kids need school.

“My college career,” I blurt. “This money is for my tuition. If it’s not in the right account when the check my father wrote the university goes through, I could be dropped.”

When the silence stretches so long I know he’s going to decline, I pop out my bottom lip.

“Dang it. I can’t believe I’m doing this. What do I say?” He keeps one hand on the steering wheel and extends the other out to me, but I keep the phone in my hold.

“Just that you approve.”

I tap mute again, then the speaker button.

“Here he is.”

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