Chapter 23
WHEN RAJAN’S NAME gets called by Kat’s secretary at his next appointment, he considers walking out.
He’s been in the waiting room debating the merits of doing so for the past five minutes. But as the social worker said, if he misses a check-in, that’s yet another breach. They could put out an arrest warrant. And wouldn’t Officer Dipshit love the excuse to track him down?
Was it worth it? some voice in his head taunts as he heads to Kat’s office.
Did it solve your problems? No. Your shoulder still hurts, your mom’s still dead, Simran’s still with the Lions, and Sukha’s still headed the same way.
You actually made your life worse. Congrats!
We all know it won’t stop you from doing it again.
Man, his subconscious is a real asshole.
The real question, of course, is who ratted him out. Nick? But that doesn’t make sense anymore. Nick got what he wanted through Simran. So, maybe someone else at the party. If what Zohra said was true, and the Lions have stopped trusting him, it could’ve been anyone.
When Rajan enters Kat’s office, she’s busy at her filing cabinet, wearing yet another Ms. Frizzle–like dress.
A familiar sight now. He’s been here several times since that day with the broken frame, and she goes off-script often to ask him about his life.
His past. His family. Sometimes he answers; sometimes he tells her to back off.
He suspects he’s become her test case for counseling strategies, because she knows he’s safe.
He hadn’t realized until right now, listening to her hum, that he took pride in that. In being trustworthy.
She turns and beams. “Rajan! Come in.”
He sinks into his chair. That doesn’t sound like the voice of someone who’s sending him back to court. Right?
Kat sits down with his file. Immediately, he notices a red sticky note poking out.
She flips through the first few documents, occasionally commenting (“Glad you enjoyed the library,” “Simran speaks highly of you in her reviews,” “Have you thought about continuing volunteering after probation’s finished?
I think it’d be good for you.”). He only half pays attention.
She’ll get to the (literal) red flag soon enough.
He puts his feet up on her table, since this’ll probably be his last opportunity. The photo frame is still noticeably absent. “What happened to your photo?” The more he talks, the longer he can delay the inevitable.
Kat glances at the empty stretch of desk. “I haven’t gotten a new frame yet.” She flips through his file some more. She’s about to reach it. His sense of dread climbs. “Who is it in the photo, anyway?” he asks, and that makes her fingers pause, a few pages away from the red sticky.
“My son.”
She starts flipping again. Shit, shit, shit—“Is he batshit like you?”
Luckily, his blatant attempts at distraction make her pause again. “I wouldn’t know.” She glances at the wall calendar. “He died nearly eight years ago.”
Oh. He starts feeling actual curiosity. Screw it, no one’s ever accused Rajan of being tactful. “How?”
“Shot dead.” When he stares, her smile becomes a little sad. “That’s why I do what I do.”
And before he can ask more, she flips to the last page.
The red flag is taped to it, and Kat’s smile falters. This is it. Rajan’s lack of control is coolly laid out on that page for anyone to see. Humiliated, he stares at the desk, gritting his teeth, waiting, waiting—
Kat flips the page. “Have you thought about going back to school?”
Wait, what? Hesitantly, he looks up. Her expression remains neutral. Was he imagining things?
Maybe that red sticky was always there. Some older page he didn’t notice until now. Maybe the social worker hasn’t had a chance to send the photo yet, or Kat didn’t see the email.
Rajan relaxes slightly. Topic changes are good, even if they’re fucking annoying topics. “I don’t like textbooks.”
“Education doesn’t have to mean classrooms or textbooks. You should give yourself a chance to explore something you might enjoy doing.”
“What if I enjoy roofing?” When she gives him a pointed look, he shrugs. “Who cares if I like my job? It’s just a job.” Kat smiles a bit. “What?”
“Sometimes you don’t talk much like an eighteen-year-old boy.”
“Dude, are you saying I sound old?”
“And other times you sound very much your age.” Her smile turns wry. “Most teenagers care a lot about their futures. You haven’t had that luxury—you grew up too fast. That means some people will mistake you for an adult, and will want to treat you that way...and punish you that way, too.”
Her fingers toy with the red sticky. Rajan’s breath stalls. This is the moment, isn’t it, where she—
Kat closes his file completely. “What do you think your strengths are?”
“My—What?” He’s still staring at the sticky.
“Your strengths. Might help you decide where to go from here.” At his expression, she adds, “You were successful in criminal activities because you have valuable skills. Creativity. Resourcefulness. An ability to make decisions in high-pressure situations. The Lion’s Share recognized them. You should, too.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious. Have you gotten rid of that tree in your yard yet, by the way?”
Rajan gives her a wary look. She’s asked him this before, and each time he’s had the same answer. “No. Why do you keep asking?”
“Just wondering why you haven’t.”
He picks a toothpick from his pocket. “It’s maple, you know.
People pay for that shit. I was gonna get a chain saw from work and see if I could cut it up, but I dunno.
It’s probably rotten anyway.” He stops because he doesn’t like the change in Kat’s expression.
Like she thinks the fact that he hasn’t gotten rid of a fucking tree means something. It doesn’t.
But Kat’s right about at least one thing: The LS knows how to recruit talent.
Simran’s a prime example. Sometimes, the best targets are the ones who aren’t immediately obvious.
He thinks back to Nick’s files of potential bookkeepers.
Those were all fairly obvious picks, but only one stayed on his mind—that accountant, Brenckmann.
Yet, it wasn’t Brenckmann himself that intrigued him.
Rajan sits up. “Actually, there is a different job I wanna try.”
She brightens. “Really? What is it?”
She looks so hopeful, he almost feels bad as he says, “The Chevron on the highway.”
Kat blinks. “The...gas station?”
Ick. “Yeah. Could I get in there? Just see how it goes?”
Kat’s eyebrows have reached her hairline by this point. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you would enjoy customer service—”
“Can you get me the job or not?”
She studies him. He holds her gaze. Finally, she exhales. “I’ll see what I can do. We might have to reduce your hours at the roofing company to follow your probation conditions, that’s all.” She pushes his file away. “We’re done for today.”
He rises, feeling invigorated. Finally, a lead to follow, even if Nick doesn’t agree.
Something tells him there’s more to that accountant’s assistant than meets the eye.
After all, how does a new international student get a job like that, working for a prestigious accounting firm?
If he can figure her out, he’s one step closer to freeing Simran.
He’s almost at the door when he remembers the red sticky. He turns to find Kat watching him. “Was there...anything else we were supposed to talk about today?”
Kat tilts her head. “Did we miss something?”
Her question hangs in the air. Has she been waiting for him to confess? Is this some kind of fucked-up test?
Rajan’s never been good at tests.
“Nope,” he says. “Nothing.”