It’s the confidence of the untouchable. Someone who has handed in their two-week notice and is perfectly content to be dismissed with severance before that.

Ma used to complain about how all the work ignored by the paralegals of her old office used to end up on her desk the moment they handed in their resignation to go to law school or some bigger firm. They no longer bothered to hide their online shopping. The man throws me another glare before slamming the door behind him, muttering something under his breath.

“You’re starting a new job already?” I deduce once we’re alone again.

“You know your uncle. Always on the come-up.” He grins at me, so charming and smooth that I would let him sell me a time-share right now. “Bigger and better things ahead.”

“Congratulations. What is it?”

Something must slip into my voice that puts me too close to Dad because Lion’s smile withdraws into the hollowest version of itself.

“Clean up your garden, I’ll clean up mine, huh?” he says, turning back to stare at the skyline. I’m not getting anything more on the topic from him.

“Look, the bottom line is that you fucked up and that your dad is right to be pissed. That was a hell of a gamble. . . . I’d put your head through a wall if you were my kid.”

“Please don’t have kids.”

“If you’re going to risk everything, don’t get caught,” he continues, ignoring the quip. “A faked email from your girlfriend’s mom? That was fucking sloppy, dude. Kindergarten shit.”

We both stare out at the city in silence until I finally pull myself from the roof’s safety rail and dust myself off, knowing where I need to be right now.

“Be careful, okay?” I feel the need to add before heading out. “The new job, I mean.”

“You categorically don’t have to worry about me, nephew.” Lion smiles, pulling me into a side hug that doesn’t lessen my concern. I hope that’s true and his new job is the HR-department-and-juicy-overtime kind, but I have my doubts.

“You know, these things smell as bad as actual cigarettes,” I say, flicking the lumpy tube in his jacket pocket after pulling away. “Plus, you look like a complete asshole.”

“That’s just my bloodline,” he says with a smirk.

On the way in, with a hand already on the stairwell door, I turn back and give Lion another look. His eyes are still transfixed on the city below. Maybe it’s the city lights, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that’s as arresting as the skyline.

I try to imagine everything that a city like New York must be to someone born and raised in Port-au-Prince and promised a new life that looks nothing like what was expected once the plane landed.