Contents (85)
- Contents
- Part I
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Part II
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Part III
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- One
- Two
- Reading Group Guide
- A Conversation with the Author
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
Me: Dad.
Riley: That’s actually not true, and it’s more complica—
Dad: What’s your funding? How many months of burn do you have left? What’s your future income stream based on? Most importantly, what’s your exit strategy?
Riley tried. He answered all those questions, and looking back now, I can see how they didn’t explain what, in fact, his full plan was. But Riley cared about making the world better for people other than himself, something my father couldn’t comprehend. So I was more than pissed off when my father took me aside the next day and said, “Look, sweetheart, there’s no easy way to say this, but your guy is a fuck-all. I’ve seen the type before. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is, which is compounded by the fact that I think he’s probably lazy. I’m guessing you’ve told him how much money I have?”
Then came the argument, the one that began the moment I left home for school. Logan Yates’s money traveled only within a certain radius and for a designated time period. He was quite willing to pay for tuition and a comfortable lifestyle when my sister and I went away for college, but we were expected to return to Bury after school. Work for him, or at least be close to him. My father’s idea of family was based on proximity, never love.
Cora returned to Bury. I didn’t, knowing that I’d rather be destitute than return to that place.
My funding was cut. Black vs. white. Right vs. wrong. Yates vs. the world. My father exists in absolutes.
“Dad,” I replied to him, “it doesn’t matter how much money you have. I don’t see any of it. And that’s not important anyway.”
“No?” I remember the smug, knowing look on his face. “You’re still in my will, and you know you’ll always have a place back in Bury if you want to be…more comfortable. I’m guessing your man knows that. Maybe he’s just biding time, hoping I’ll kick it in the near future.”
“You’re so frustra—”
“Prenup. Just have him sign a prenup. If you get any money from me, he’s not entitled to it in the event…you know…he does what a typical fuck-all does. Which is fuck it all up.”
I stormed away.
My father went back to Bury.
Riley and I married, and we never had a prenup. My father and my sister came to the wedding, which was a very inexpensive affair at a DoubleTree hotel in the Chicago suburbs. My sister drank and looked bored the whole time, and my father wore a just-you-wait look on his face for most of the night. During the father-daughter dance, he predicted I’d come home to Bury, eventually. He was as sure of this as Riley was about his eventual greatness. I told him he couldn’t be more wrong.
That was thirteen years ago.
Turns out he was right.
Eleven
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
September 8
Two days ago, Detective Colin Pearson had walked out of his sergeant’s office, trying to suppress a smile. Smiling might jinx things.