Confessed by Nicola Rendell

Author:Nicola Rendell [Rendell, Nicola]
Language: eng
Format: epub

18

“Kill your phone,” Vince says, pushing his body off mine and slipping back into the passenger’s seat. I don’t answer. I just stare at the radio, like I must have heard that wrong. My dad, the Ham King? Laundering money through my accounts? How is that even possible? The man only manages to add 3 and 7 correctly 50% of the time. Once, we went to France and he tipped the bellhop $300 because the exchange rate completely mystified him.

That man? Laundering money?

“Phone, Lucy. Give me your fucking phone,” Vince says.

Literally, all I can do is stare at the radio.

Vince grabs my purse from the back seat.

“I cannot believe him!” I say at the dashboard. I smack my face with my palms.

Vince looks inside my purse. “Where’s the rest of the cash?” he says, holding up the single stack of money, thinned even more by the bail I just paid.

I stare at the bills. “I needed it last night.” I grab Vince’s arm. “Did I hear that right? The New York State prosecutor’s office is after me?”

“Needed it for what?”

“Vince. They’re after me. Me!”

He starts digging. “I’m aware of that, Peaches. So where’s your fucking phone?”

A tangerine flies out of my purse and lands in my lap, followed by a whole tangle of earbuds that I never took the time to undo. “Jesus Christ, this purse, Lucy. We’re going to have to talk about this.” He puts my birth control on my leg. “And that. Stay on schedule.”

I pull my phone out from under my leg and hand it over, still with my eyes locked on the radio. He stuffs my purse down by his feet. I’m having one of those out-of-body moments, where I think if I try really, really hard, I’ll be able to yank myself out of this nightmare. It’s most definitely not working. Mindlessly, I take one of my pills. I think it’s Wednesday today, but I take a Friday.

I watch him press the power button and then swipe the confirmation toggle thing. He drops my phone back in my bag. “There. At least they can’t track you now. Don’t turn it on, for any reason. Got that?”

I think back to Dad saying, “We’re going to have to get our story straight.” This is what he meant. This was it. It feels like the time I got T-boned at an intersection in Greenwich, that sort of sideways whooshing feeling. This isn’t just my dad’s problem anymore. Suddenly, I’m not just related to the Ham King. I’m embezzling funds for him. At least that’s how it seems.

“I need to make a call,” I say, trying to pry the phone from Vince’s fingers.

“Pretty sure we’ve covered that. No calls.”

I throw myself at him, but he keeps it just out of reach. “Lucy. Stop.”

And then stare at the dash.

With a quick thrust of my finger, I press the little blue CALL button on the dashboard, and then number 5.

A ringing fills the cab.

Vince shakes his head. He stares up through the sunroof.

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