“What happened?” she asks. She looks amazing, wearing a bright red frock coat, a gorgeous flower-printed head wrap, and brown boots with three-inch heels. In the snow. I wish I had a tenth of her style.
“Carney set his goon on me. I guess Finn hasn’t been doing his fair share to crush the rebellion, so James had his thug drop me off as a little loyalty test.”
We head over to the Mattapan trolley line.
“Did he hurt you?” she asks, the words catching in her throat.
“No. The goon did all this. Finn took me to the family doctor, which was weird.”
“What a gentleman,” she sneers. “I hope both of them get socked in the mouth by karma.” She takes my hand. “Sasha, I’m so sorry I got you into this. I knew it’d be hard, but I genuinely didn’t expect you to be hurt.”
“It’s not your fault.” We board the trolley, and I sit next to the window. Jamilah hates how this train passes through Cedar Grove cemetery. Thinks it disturbs the dead. I hope any nearby spirits find my mother and grandmother and ask them to look out for me. “Neither of us expected this. It feels like being in a stupid mob movie. I always thought those were exaggerations.”
She slides in next to me. She’s tall and willowy, like a model. I always feel so dull next to her.
“What’s our next play?”
I tell her about the gala, as well as Dr. Smith’s advice.
“I wrote it all up,” I say, “for the reporter Dr. Smith told me about. I’m not going to send it unless I have to, but I packaged it up with some pictures.”
“You’ll send it to me as backup, right?”
“Yep, I did to your personal email. It’s the nuclear option, so I want to be absolutely sure it’s the right time.”
I have an idea for the gala that I want to try first. If I go to the press too soon and Carney hasn’t made any moves against the election yet, it won’t have the same impact. I need to make the connections between his attacks and the unionization attempts as explicit as possible. Carney is smart, and oily enough to wriggle out of what might seem like ironclad evidence of wrongdoing. It’s a complicated game of chess.
I bet Finn is amazing at chess.
“Why do you think he wants you to come to this party?”
“So his dad can intimidate me in person.”
Jamilah looks at me curiously. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”
“It’s my best guess,” I say.
“It’s not because he wants the staff to see you two together? Like as a couple?”
I laugh. “Oh for fuck’s sake. How could he believe anyone would think that? My personal integrity aside, Finn’s family had me brutally assaulted, and he’s a rich, handsome playboy who could have any girl he wants. He’s not going to slum it with some poor, homely loser.”
There’s little question I’d imagined the desire in his eyes. I’m trying to convince myself that my desire for him also wasn’t real.
“Look at me.”
I’m still laughing when I face Jamilah.
“Don’t talk about yourself like you’re trash. Just because people treat you like trash doesn’t mean you are trash. You’re better than Finn Carney. You’re better than his whole fucking family. Money can’t buy class, and we’ll show them that. People won’t believe you’re with him because you’re too good for him. And honey, you’re not homely. Not in the least. You’re gorgeous, and when we’re done everyone will know it. And hopefully that will include you.”
It’s so hard to believe this when I’ve been told by my father that I’m useless my entire life. The man who was charged with raising and protecting me treats me like his personal maid and punching bag.
“It’s true,” she insists. “And when this is over, you’re going to be California dreaming with that sweet little brother of yours and marry a hot surfer who also happens to be loaded. Your no-good father can get swallowed up by his moldy recliner.”
“It’s a distinct possibility, the recliner part,” I say. “But thank you.”
“Besides, I didn’t think it was you in that picture anyway.”
My stomach drops.
We pass over the frozen Neponset River out toward Mattapan station.
“What picture?”
“Oh it was in the society section of the paper this morning. Everyone was talking about it. Finn was kissing someone at some fancy event in the Athenaeum. You couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she had the same hair color and length as yours. The caption had your name on it. But it’s Finn Carney. He’s kissed a lot of women and I’m sure he’ll continue to. That’s what I said, anyway, when people asked me about it.”
But I’d kissed him. He’d kissed me first, sure, but pulled away. And I wanted more and felt bold enough to go for it. It’d been a mistake. A big one.
“Jamilah,” I say. “That was me.”
I can’t lie to her. Not with so much at stake.
She laughs. “Baby, you are too honest.”
I must look as confused as I feel.
“Honey, I was lying. I knew that was you. I recognized your clothes. You could’ve taken the out I offered you. You don’t always have to be a hundred percent up front about everything all the time.”
“No,” I say, “I don’t, but I do have to be up front and honest with you. There are things about him I really like. And it’s a shame he didn’t follow his better instincts. It’d be a mistake to act on any feelings I have for him, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have any. It won’t impact my work. He’ll hate me after the gala, trust me.”
We enter the station and exit the trolley.
“Just take care of yourself, honey,” she says. “Finn is slick. He’s smarter and better than his daddy, but that doesn’t make him nearly good enough for you, or even someone you should trust.”
“You’re right,” I say. “Still, I want to make him regret his bad decisions when he sees me. Do you think you could help me with that?”
“Can I?” She shakes her head at me. “I wish you’d let me do this a long time ago.”
We head to the downtown area. Mattapan has a bad reputation as a high crime area and earned the nickname “Murderpan” for a reason. But like many places, it’s more about knowing where you’re going, respecting the rules of the neighborhood, and not sticking your nose in the wrong people’s business than anything else. If you follow those general rules, no one is going to bother you.
I’m fast on these crutches, and can keep up with Jamilah pretty easily as we walk over to the store she told me about. It’s a cute little boutique that sells secondhand clothes.
“The clothes here are a bit pricier than your typical stuff at Savers, but it’s nicer and still affordable,” she says, opening the door for me. “We’ll find something here that’ll knock them out.”
She waves to the woman behind the counter, and we start going through the racks. She pulls out a few things, holds them up to me, and shakes her head.
“Petite, busty girls are hard to dress,” Jamilah says, putting yet another dress back. “And I know your Momma didn’t have a lot of time to help you with all this.”