Page 27 of This Time Around
He was already pawing through another stack of boxes on the other side of the mannequin, so Allie used the chance to slip over toward the steamer trunk.
“This one’s not so bad,” he called. “Looks like a bunch of old magazines. Home and garden stuff, not porn, in case you’re wondering.”
“Thanks for the report.”
She knelt in front of the trunk. It was definitely the same one her grandma used to keep in the blue bedroom on the south side of the house. She remembered trailing her hand over the top of it as a little girl, the bumps and ridges like a topographical map under her fingers. She’d never paid attention to the lock on it before, and had just assumed it required a key. Studying it now, she realized it was a combination lock. She thought about asking Jack if he had a lock-picking kit in his tool belt, but right now she needed a little space between her hormones and Jack’s tool belt.
The little dial looked rusty, but the numbers spun without much effort. She moved the digits to form her grandma’s birthday, then pushed the lever. Nothing. Of course. Victoria Elena Ross had been savvier than that. Then again, she hadn’t been savvy enough to burn her bondage equipment before moving into an assisted living facility. It was all relative.
Allie’s hands were sweating, which probably had more to do with Jack’s proximity and the heat of the attic than a fear of finding more sex toys. She wiped them on her jeans and tried again. This time she dialed in her grandfather’s birthdate, conscious of Jack still pawing through boxes behind her.
Nothing. She tried her grandparents’ anniversary, followed by her own father’s birthdate. Nope. Same for her parents’ anniversary and every common series of numbers she could think of like 1234 or 6666, though would Victoria Ross have thought to plug in the sign of the beast?
Unlikely.
Then again, Victoria Ross had owned a ball gag.
Allie tried 6969, just to be sure. She was relieved when it didn’t work.
Behind her, Jack was whistling something. She thought it might be a Barenaked Ladies song, and her brain flashed to the memory of them listening to one of their albums in college. They’d danced together in their apartment living room, not caring that the blinds were wide open and anyone in the world could see them. She’d tossed her hair and shrieked with laughter as he spun her around while the downstairs neighbor pounded on the ceiling.
Allie turned the numbers on the combo lock again, forming her own birthdate. This time, something clicked. A shiver chattered down her spine as she pressed the lever and found it moved easily. She hesitated, not sure she wanted to open it.
Behind her, Jack had stopped whistling. She heard footsteps and knew he’d noticed the change in her demeanor.
“Please don’t be more sex toys,” she murmured as she slowly lifted the lid. “Please no more sex toys. Please no more sex toys. Please no more?—”
“Holy shit.”
Jack spoke the words this time as Allie sucked in a breath.
“I already said that,” she mumbled as she stared into the trunk. “Try something more original.”
But seriously—holy shit.
Jack leaned in over her shoulder. “Are those twenties or hundreds?”
Allie peered closer at the large stacks of bills, each one bound with a tidy yellow ribbon. “Hundreds.” She swallowed hard, pretty sure she’d never seen this much cash in her whole life. “There must be at least?—”
“A million dollars.”
She turned and looked at him, wondering if she looked as stunned as he did. “How do you know?”
“I saw a video once.” He swallowed and Allie watched his throat move. “Paige asked me what a million dollars in cash looks like, so we Googled it. We found this YouTube video showing all the different configurations and how it would stack up.” He nodded at the steamer trunk, and Allie realized he was a lot more shaken by this than he’d been by the sex toys.
Allie stared at the money. She didn’t feel excited. She didn’t feel giddy. She didn’t feel rich.
She felt utterly terrified.
“Holy shit,” Jack said again as he stared at the stack of bills.
It had to be connected to Allie’s parents, right? He glanced at her, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. Her face was paste white, and he knew from experience what would come next.
“Um, here.” He fumbled for a plastic Easter basket on a shelf overhead, pausing to dump out the painted metallic eggs. They bounced and wobbled across the floor, one of them bumping Allie’s knee as he thrust the basket into her hands.
She took the basket with a bewildered stare. “What’s this for?”
“You looked like you might puke.”
