“Right,” I said. Now that the Raptor was gone, the reality of the situation was returning to me—I’d barged in on Mateo’s Friday night for no reason and was still no closer to getting into the apartment. “Actually, would you mind if I made a call from your phone? Maybe Mallory’s super is back.”
“Sure,” he said, handing it over.
I pressed in Cary’s area code, then I CRUISE, but he didn’t answer—after four rings, the call went to voice mail. “Hey, Cary,” I said. “It’s, um, Stevie, Mallory’s stepsister? We met earlier. Just checking to see if you had an ETA on your uncle. Thanks!” I hung up, then realized that when Cary heard my voice mail, he might call me back at my old number—which would not be helpful at all. I pressed his number again—it went to voice mail after only two rings this time, and as soon as it did, I said quickly, “Hi, Cary, it’s Stevie again. Sorry. But can you call this number when you hear anything? Not the other one. Okay. Thanks. Bye.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Mateo, who looked thoughtful.
“Be right back,” he said, taking his phone and heading into one of the bedrooms. I watched him go, not sure what I was supposed to do now.
“If you’re free later,” Archie said, “you should come out with us! We’ve got big plans, with Ukrainian food on the Lower East Side, and then an infused vodka bar in Soho that’s Russian themed. It’s a real Iron Curtain kind of evening.”
“Yeah, you should come!” Alyssa said, settling into the couch with her phone and glancing up at me over the screen. “And you should bring the dog!”
They both started to sell me on the night, even reading out pieces of Yelp reviews for the Ukrainian place—which really wasn’t necessary, just hearing the word “pierogi” was enough to remind me that I was getting hungry—when Mateo came back in.
“Okay,” he said, holding up his phone. “I just talked to Margaux. She has Mallory’s keys.”
“Really?” I asked, hope flaring in my chest. Margaux, the middle of my stepsiblings, was the one I knew the least—she traveled a lot, always seemingly on a trip or just having returned from one. “She’s sure?”
“I asked her to double-check—you know what she’s like—and she swore they were labeled and everything.”
“Oh my god,” I said, starting to smile. For the first time all night, it felt like there was a light at the end of this tunnel—that I could actually get the keys, get back into the apartment, drop off Brad, get my stuff, and go home. “That’s amazing.”
“She told me she has them with her—they’re on her key ring. The only thing is, she’s at work right now.”
“Ah,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure what this meant. Margaux was a freelance stylist/designer/photographer, bouncing from one thing to the next with seemingly no larger plan. Even hearing secondhand about Margaux’s freewheeling career and utter lack of structure was enough to make me feel like I was going to break out in hives.
“She’s on a shoot,” Mateo said, maybe sensing I needed more clarification. “She gave me the address, though.”
“Great,” I said, giving him a quick, tight smile. I certainly hadn’t planned on seeing all my stepsiblings in one night, but that was apparently what was going to happen. “Well, if you could just write down the address? And maybe text her I’m coming?”
Mateo gave me a skeptical look that plainly said Come on, then got to his feet and headed into one of the bedrooms, emerging a second later with a black motorcycle jacket. “Of course I’m coming with you,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re only in this situation because of my sister. I’m not going to leave you to figure this out with no phone.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. It wasn’t that I wanted to do this with Mateo, exactly, but the fact I wouldn’t have to do it all alone, and stand outside another door hoping someone would let me in, was hitting me harder than I realized it would. I knew I didn’t deserve this—not at all—and the fact that he was willing to help me took my breath away for a moment. “Thank you.”
Alyssa jumped up and cuddled Brad’s face in her hands. “Goodbye, my love,” she said to him seriously. “You’re the cutest and goodest boy that there ever was, and I want to make sure you know that.” Brad licked her hand, and she beamed, then looked at Mateo. “We’re still going out later, right?”
“Of course,” Mateo said. “In Russia, bar crawls you.”
“Exactly,” she agreed with a nod.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, waving at Archie and Alyssa.
“You as well,” Archie said. “I think you’ve saved us from any more inspections for the rest of the year, so we are eternally in your debt.”
“ ‘Thanks’ works too,” Mateo said, rolling his eyes at him. I picked my coat up off the couch, gave it a shake, and followed Mateo out the door and into the hallway.
“So where is the shoot?” I asked, setting Brad down on the carpet and pulling on my coat.
“She just gave me the address,” he said, squinting down at his phone. “1000 Fifth Avenue.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds swanky.”
Mateo smiled. “It’s a good thing I wore my fancy boots,” he said, zipping up his jacket. “Looks like we’re going to the Upper East Side.”
Meanwhile, back in Connecticut…
THEY’D BEEN DRIVING IN SILENCE for twenty minutes before the guy slowed the car down. Teri was sitting shotgun, Parker on her lap, Chris and Daryl in the backseat. When the man told them to get into the car, Chris pointed out that the rental didn’t have any of the car seats they’d need, but the man with the gun hadn’t seemed to care about that. He’d pointed with the gun once more, and she’d stopped telling him about children’s vehicular safety.
Teri held on to Parker tight as they drove. She stared out the window, wishing that someone would tell her what to do, feeling very strongly that twenty bucks an hour was not enough to make up for having to deal with this.
The man pulled the car off to the shoulder of I-95 and killed the engine. Teri’s heart pounded. What did this mean? “Look,” she said, already edging toward the door handle, glancing to the backseat. “We’ll just get out here, how ’bout that? And call an Uber, and we won’t mention this to anyone. Right?”
“Never,” Chris agreed.
“Mention what?” Daryl asked.
Parker shook her head emphatically.
“Oh no,” the guy said. His eyes went wide as he looked around the car, illuminated by the flickering roadside light above them. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you kids. I just had to get you out of there for your own safety. I wasn’t sure if I was being followed. If I was, it would have been dangerous to leave you there. Let’s start over. I’m Damon Gilroy, but call me Gilroy. CIA.”
“CIA?” Chris echoed from the backseat, impressed.
“If you’re CIA, what were you doing in a trunk?” Daryl asked.