“So, got this bad boy memorized yet?” I asked.

“We have to memorize it?”

I laughed. “Not exactly, but you might lose the nickname if you can answer KQ’s questions quicker.”

“It’s a lot, isn’t it? All of the rules, the goals, the terminology . . . it’s very different from the Third Floor.”

“The main thing to remember is the Specs. You can spend your whole time here going after Ones and Twos, but you don’t make the big numbers until you start focusing on Fives.”

Cal sighed.

“Yeah, okay, Fives take the most work. For sure. But if you want to make a splash around here, I would recommend tracking a couple, just in case.”

“Maybe I’ll just give up now, change my name to ‘Disease-Carrying Vermin,’ and be done with it,” she said. I racked my brain for encouragement, but then I saw that she was smiling. It was a good smile. Small, but good.

“It’s not the worst name I’ve heard KQ call someone,” I said. “It’s kind of cute, actually.”

There went her blood again, all over.

“Thanks, Peyote.” She stopped in front of her cubicle and took her binder from under my arm.

“Call me Pey.”

“Thanks, Pey,” she said, and smiled once more before ducking behind her divider.

—

THE FIRST THING I did when I sat down at my desk was check on the Harrisons. I had four generations of Harrisons under my belt. All I needed was one more, my Spencer Norwood, and I would have a Complete Set. One more direct-descendant-Harrison deal, and everything I had done—everything done to me—would be worth it.

I turned on my monitor, and the white house with the black shutters appeared in front of me, late-afternoon light lapping at the weathered clapboard like the tide on a boat. It was empty now, but they would be there soon, and I liked the way it looked when it was empty. Like it was waiting for them.

Evan built that house with his dad, after he dropped out of school to join the family business. Evan was my fourth Harrison, but I have to admit I didn’t think it would be him. I was tracking his debt-heavy sister right up until the day Evan called, palms down on the dining room table, a second cup of tea across from his. I liked Evan; he knew exactly what he wanted. His son, Silas, and his daughter-in-law, Lily, proved harder. That happens sometimes with generations. One person makes a deal: I’ll sell my soul if my family never wants for anything. And then their family gets well and accustomed to never wanting for anything, and they don’t need to make any deals. But you know what always happens the generation after that? They make the biggest deals of all. They are so used to wanting for nothing, they take to wanting with an appetite.