Fantine started to highlight bits and pieces of text she thought would be useful in a few documents. “You folks are subtle like a whale in a kiddie pool.” Things were warm between them again, but Fantine fought the urge to act like anything was on the mend. No—she wouldn’t let a few quips be a bridge. “Tell me, what’s the real market value of the product we’re lifting? Your dad mentioned it would be twenty mil flat. Pretty impressed with my cut to be honest.”
Pete cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s surprising how much Ivy League jizz is worth. Especially, well…I can’t get into that.”
Fantine closed her eyes. Fought that bloom of heat running from her gut and up her throat. They were lying. The gig was worth less, worth more, or there was worse at the end of the road for her. The problem of getting product out was already bothering her. Would they load it all into a van? Did Aleksei expect all five-foot-five of her to carry gallons of this stuff? “Get into what?” Fantine forced out, “Why exactly are captains of industry and elite thinkers giving up their spunk without anything in return?”
“What makes you say that?” Pete stepped back.
Fantine could see he was keeping more from her, but she decided the less she knew the better. Her job was to open the doors. How Aleksei or Pete got a bead on this whole sperm racket wasn’t her problem. “Well, if I owned a dick that leaked money, I’d sort of set up a private enterprise, you know?”
“It isn’t like the whole thing is common knowledge.” Pete waved it off. “Besides, most book-smart dudes are fucking rubes.”
“So anyway,” Fantine said as she spun back around. “Get some sleep. You steered the conversation away from it, but you’re totally going to spank into a cup tomorrow.”
Pete cringed. “Dude.”
“Get out.”
Pete did as he was told. Even closed the door on his way out like a gentleman.
Fantine groaned and lifted her hood over her head. She was falling into it again. No. This wasn’t the way she’d allow it to go. She stood up and collected her jacket and messenger bag—lighter now. For all her navel-gazing and running around, it had been a little while since she visited her father. She needed a sane voice in her life.
8
“The stranger returns!” Jae sat watching a Korean soap opera with subtitles. He sipped on a glass of water. Smacked his lips. “You finally got around to remembering you had a father?” He narrowed his eyes and lowered his chin. That look worked wonders on Fantine as a teenager, now it only made her want to laugh.
Fantine set her bag down on his bed. She ignored the judging glare. If anything, it made her feel comfortable. “Why the hell are you watching that?” Onscreen, a couple was staring at each other longingly, so close to kissing. Then at the absolute last millisecond the couple both turned away from one another. The girl lamented about something. Fantine didn’t speak Korean, but it was probably some garbage about her family never allowing her to love the guy because something, something, something.
Jae shrugged. “I was forgetting that there were people that looked like me in the world.” He pulled himself into a sitting position.
“Laying it on think, huh?” Fantine fetched a beer from her bag. Handed it to her father. “This help?” She snatched a cushion from a chair and positioned it behind Jae.
He took the beer with a small nod. Held it back up to her. “You act like these hands can open this goddamn thing.”
Fantine smirked and opened the bottle with a twist. “You whine like a baby.” She handed it over.
“I am a baby. That’s what happens when we get old. We all turn into toddlers. Gonna need diapers soon.”
“Toddlers are easier to deal with.” Fantine pulled a chair next to her father and slumped into it. The back pinched her shoulders, but she dealt with it.
Jae took a small sip of his beer and smiled. “Took my pills for the day, but I can’t say I care if this interferes with anything.” He smiled. “Your mother hated beer. Said it was for poor people.”
“Yet we lived in a two-bedroom apartment my whole life.”
“She was cheap.”
Fantine laughed. “No shit.”
They sat in silence. The soap opera was hitting some kind of climax involving forced declarations of saccharine love. Fantine didn’t bother to read the subtitles. She tucked her legs up and tried to lean her head on her hand, but the armchair fought her all the way. In the hallway, someone rolled by on a rickety wheelchair. Close behind, a woman in a house dress shambled and muttered something about her sister taking all her money and her husband.
“So what do you want?” Jae took another pull from his beer.
“I’m here to hang out.” Fantine lowered her head.
“After normal visiting hours? How did you even get up here?”
“Ninja skills. Also, that nice nurse is on duty. She always lets me slide.” Fantine breathed. “I lost my job today.”
“And?”
Fantine looked at Jae. “And what?”
Jae shook his head. “Last time I saw you, you got in a car with some shady types. I was married to your mother long enough to know what that meant.” He jabbed an elbow into her forearm. “How was it? Big score?” Jae smiled.
“I haven’t done it yet.” Fantine sat up. “This is different, you know, serious.”
“Crime tends to be serious.”
“These guys are desperate and stupid.” Fantine fiddled with the cap on her water bottle. “They have no plan aside from having me do all the work.”
“Most criminals aren’t smart, Fan.”
“So you’re saying I’m stupid?”
Jae shook his head. “I said most. Others are only desperate.” Jae shrugged. “There’s still a fine line between desperate and stupid.”
They watched the soap opera’s credits roll. Then commercials for random foods started. The format was jarring—like some kind of sugar-fueled nightmare. Jae picked up the remote and flipped the channel over to local news. He lowered the volume. On screen, a blonde was talking sternly at the camera about Superstorm Sandy.
Jae dropped the remote and looked to Fantine. “So no other choice, huh?”
Fantine took a long pull from a water bottle. She’d rather snatch up a beer, but she knew better. Next time, she promised herself. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “No.”
Jae shrugged. “So do it and stop driving yourself crazy”
“That’s a simple answer. What happens after? What if this is a double cross and they shoot me in the head once they have what they want?”
The silence returned. The news was reporting an assault on a mechanic in Staten Island earlier in the week. Fantine ignored the screen and picked at the calloused skin on her hands. Jae sipped his beer. There were football previews on the news now. Jae shook his head and clicked his teeth as they showed an interview with Giants quarterback, Eli Manning.
Jae finally broke the silence. “There are a lot of what ifs in the world, Fan. Your mother was good at ignoring them, she always had an answer—and luck always seemed to find her.” He pointed the lip of his now empty beer bottle at her. “You always played it a little of both ways.” He smiled. “Reserved like me, but brash at the worst times like her. A bad combination.” Jae stood from his chair and tossed the bottle into the garbage can near the TV. He took care to cover it with a paper bag. “Do you have a gun, anything to protect yourself?”
“I don’t fuck with guns, Dad.” Fantine stood up and stretched out. The chair had been unreasonably uncomfortable. “I have a knife.”
Jae walked over to his dresser. He opened a drawer and rooted around loose socks. “I have something. Ah, here.” He produced a leather coin purse and opened it. Reached inside and pulled out a small, silver key. “You remember that bank your mom never hit, the one on Castle Hill in the Bronx?”