Page 60 of Paging Dr. Hart
“What about cameras? Security?” I swallow the last bite of my pizza, not even tasting it.
“All controlled from that office with Stewart’s keycard.” Before I can ask another question, Rafe looks at me,reallylooks at me. The full force of his laser-eyed focus makes me catch my breath.Thisis what I’ve been wanting. His attention.
“Tiffany, Ipromiseyou. I can do this. I can pull it off, but not alone. Not without your help.”
It’s hard to deny him when he’s staring at me like that, like he’s on a sinking ship and I’m the only one holding a life preserver. My resolve wavers. “Who knows if I can even get Stewart to take me? He’s never mentioned this party.” I stand and gather my trash. The pizza I ate has turned into a lead ball in my stomach.
Shelly piles her dirty plate and napkin on her plastic tray. “That’s step one. Let’s see if you can get him to take you. You can decide what you’re comfortable with after that. Okay?”
I’m aware that she’s luring me deeper into their plan by giving me the illusion of choice. It’s too late for that. The roller coaster has already started down the hill, and the pit of dread in my belly tells me that I’m on it for the entire ride.
50
Getting Stewart to invite me to the ball turns out to be incredibly easy. Just a couple of well-placed hints and he brings it up like it’s his own idea. He tells me that he hates these parties because he feels awkward and he usually hides in the bathroom, waiting for the event to be over. He’s relieved when I agree to go with him, acting likeI’mthe one doing him a favor.
The subterfuge makes me feel terrible. I picture myself as Pennywise the Clown about to drag Stewart down into the sewers and devour him.This is for Mom,I remind myself daily. If I can’t keep paying the medical bills, then she won’t get the treatment she needs.
The day before the party, we head to the Strip in our show-girl costumes. Today, Shelly drives a red SUV with a dented bumper. Her hair is a rich brunette, all her usual bright colors gone. The new hair color is for the heist. She doesn’t want to stand out in the crowd in case we’re pursued, a thought that terrifies me.
“You think we can really pull this off?” I ask. The car window is open, and the warm desert wind whips my hair, sending strands into my eyes. I comb them aside with my fingers, holding my hair to the side in a loose ponytail.
“Oh, yeah. With the information Rafe has, we’ll get that money,” Shelly answers without hesitation.
“How can you be so sure? How does Rafe know so much about Johnny?” My mind swirls with unanswered questions.
She shoots me an incredulous look. “Even after everything that happened with those guys who chased us, you still don’t know?”
“Know what?” I lift my hands, palms up.
Shelly shakes her head. “Who Rafe is.”
For a minute, I almost don’t want to know. I want to hold onto my dream version of Rafe, the one with the secret heart of gold. But now that we’replanning this robbery, it’s time to let that illusion go. I need to understand what I’m getting into. “What do you mean?”
Shelly gives me a look of affectionate disgust. “This is what you get for always having your head stuck in a book, Tiffany. I swear an alien spaceship could land in the middle of school and you wouldn’t even notice.” Her smile softens her words.
“Rafe is part of the Kingsman Gang, their Latin branch. His whole family is involved, with his dad as the head. I don’t know all the details, just that he’s high up and not only because he’s related. You should hear what people say about him, that they’ve never seen someone that young shoot up the ranks so fast. They talk about how he’s so smart. So ruthless. I think his dad is grooming him to take over.” She’s somber, almost sad, as her eyes meet mine. “He’s their future.”
“Oh.” It’s what I expected, but the thought of organized crime makes me cringe. I can’t believe that I’m consorting with an actual gang.
God help me.
“That’s why Rafe used to have bruises on his arms? From gang stuff?” I ask.
Shelly shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “That or else from his dad. I hear he’s a real asshole.”
“What about Rafe’s mom?” There’s a lump in my throat from the thought that Rafe was abused. My fantasy reoccurs, the one where I rescue him.
Shelly sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “What mom? He’s never had one. I don’t know what happened to her, though. No one talks about it.”
“I don’t get it.” I frown, working through this new information. “You said Rafe’s their future, but he said he wants to leave. Won’t his family be mad?”
“They’ll be furious.” Her fear is palpable, which in turn scares me. I’ve seen Shelly mad plenty of times but hardly ever frightened. “If Rafe stays,” she says and swallows, “he’ll end up dead or in jail. He might be their future, but that’s the only future left to him.”
We’re silent then, each of us lost in our thoughts. Palm trees sway outside the car window. Wind blows dust across an empty lot. A mangy dog prowls down an alleyway.
“What’re you going to wear to the party, Tiffany?” Shelly interrupts the quiet, and I swing my head back to her.
I perk up, excited to share my idea. “My mom has this old dress. She keeps it in the very back of her closet. It’s beautiful, pure white with a long full skirt. Super fancy. It even has these deep pockets that’ll be perfect for hiding the keycard.” I’ve wanted to try that dress on since I was a child, but Mom never let me. Plus, it was always too big. I’ve grown as tall as my mother, so it should fit.
