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Back Devotion Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author
  47. About the Publisher

I just stared at him in the harsh kitchen light.

“You don’t know what happened?” he said.

“I don’t know anything.”

“Lonnie left. Disappeared.” He took a step toward me. “She didn’t drain the money, but she left me with William.”

I could smell his cedar-scented aftershave under the sweat and alcohol. I realized I hadn’t shaved my legs in days. “You’re doing well, right?” he said.

I didn’t respond. It wasn’t hard to imagine why she would leave him. I tried to remember exactly how long it had been since I saw her, since everything had gotten so messed up in the Hamptons—six months at this point. Maybe it took her that long to get up the courage.

“What do you mean disappeared?”

He didn’t answer the question. “I’m sure you found a new job?” he said instead, slurring his words, staring at my mouth. “Must be easy to find a new job.”

I don’t know if it was the news about Lonnie or this vague come-on, but something switched then. I wanted him gone.

“You’re drunk,” I said. “It’s late. You should go.”

He looked around again, his eyes turning big and glassy like those of an insulted child—surprised at any slight. I walked to the door and opened it, waiting for him to follow. He shoved a wad of money into my hand at the threshold. “I didn’t want you to come after us,” he said. “For not getting your last payment.”

I took the cash without saying anything, though we both knew I could never go after him for anything. There was no record of me. Legally, I never had anything to do with the whole lot of them. I took it because I was used to needing money or maybe because I thought he needed to give it to me. I locked the door quickly behind him, then looked down to find all I was holding were some crumpled ones, two fives, and a wad of receipts.

1

I NEVER SIGNED A CONTRACT. THE WIFE HANDED ME HOUSE keys with a flippancy I found unnerving, despite my desperation. I held them the whole way back to Brooklyn, to reassure myself I had indeed been given the job, that there had been an agreement, fingering the ridges until my sweaty palms smelled of metal. The ring had a leather strap attached featuring a monogrammed “L” that made me wonder if she’d given me her own set by accident.

I was still clutching them, the strap wrapped around my index finger, when I sat down at a bar and ordered a drink that evening. I gave the bartender my credit card, and said, “Keep it open,” thinking I might just leave when I’d finished. The card was maxed out by then; he could have it.