“It’s going to break Amber’s heart.”

I straightened and slipped into the role of BFF for life. “Oh, hell, no. Where’s your baseball bat? He has kneecaps, right?”

“It might come to that. It’s like he says no to things just to punish me. He uses his privilege of shared custody as a weapon against me, completely uninterested in what it does to Amber.”

I stepped over to her. “I’m sorry, hon. What’s going on?”

“I told him about NMSD and how Amber wants to go. He said no. Period. He will not allow her to be exposed.”

“Exposed?” I asked, completely offended, and I wasn’t even Deaf. “Exposed to what? A culture rich in history and traditions? A proud and powerful group of people who have to put up with more shit in one day than we have to all year? I mean, have you even tried to order a pizza through relay? Nightmare.”

“Exactly. She could learn so much.”

I put on my best mafioso and asked, “You want I should talk to him?”

She laughed softly. “No. I’ll do it. I can do it. Besides, the last time you helped, Fredo, there were dead fish showing up all over town, only these were gift wrapped and delivered by Pappadeaux. Cost us a fortune.”

“Hey, at least I got the message out. You do not want to mess with us. And we got some lovely thank-you cards in return.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Wait, why Fredo?”

“I’ll talk to him myself.”

“Isn’t he shot in the head on orders from his own brother?”

“I’ll probably have to cave on something else he wants. God only knows what that might be.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly very interested. “So he manipulates situations like this to get his way with other things?”

She looked up at me and blinked. “That’s what marriages are based on.”

“Okay, but didn’t you divorce him?”

“Not the point.”

“’Cause, if not, we should mention that to Uncle Bob.”

“Are you kidding me? I have plans for that boy. He will never be the same after I’m done with him.”

I laughed. “I don’t doubt that for a microsecond.”

“He left early, by the way.”

“Uncle Bob? Yeah, I heard him.”

“No. Mr. Farrow.”

“Ah yes. Mr. Smexy. The bane and bliss—mostly bliss—of my existence.”

“You know, you could do something crazy and talk to him. Open up a bit. Tell him about the you-know-who and the you-know-what.”

No idea what she was talking about. “I tried that. Last night. He is the stubbornest, most unwavering, bullheaded—”

“All synonyms of the same concept. One that, I daresay, applies to you as well.”

I gaped at her.

“Only sometimes,” she added. “Like yesterday when you ordered a burrito and they brought you a burger. You were totally flexible.”

She had a point. I had stretched before going in. Did a few lunges to warm up. I’m always more flexible after a good warm-up. I could even do the splits if the situation demanded. And it was amazing how often the situation actually did demand.

* * *

I felt eyes on the back of my neck as I walked to the office.

I got that a lot. Those prickly feelings that someone was watching me. Odds are, someone was. It could have been the Vatican guy. I hadn’t checked up on him since being back. I thought, perhaps, the Vatican had fired him. His cover was blown, after all. But now I wondered. The person wasn’t familiar to me, so I knew it wasn’t Garrett. I could feel him when he was close. I could feel Cookie and Ubie and Gemma. They had a very distinct vibration. A distinct essence that I now recognized. No, this was someone else. Perhaps more than one.

I finally found the source. The three amigos were back. Their lime green minivan sat about half a block away. I got the feeling they didn’t have a lot of money to throw at their stalking hobby. Or experience tailing people.

Before I could do anything about it, I felt a more familiar presence. I spotted the homeless girl I’d seen the day before down the street. She was leaning against Boyd’s in the same clothes, but she had her stuff with her. She’d gone back to get it, thankfully. I was worried someone else would get to it first.

Mr. Boyd came out then. In the sea of people bustling here and there, mostly college students trying to get to class, he’d singled her out. Walked over to her. Tried to hand her another yogurt and juice. He also had an apple, and I couldn’t have come up with a more appropriate metaphor if someone had paid me.