Chapter 29
Ivy was still reeling from the photo.
She was also mortified that the cute cop had seen her video.
Her mind went there, thought about permutations. Looping, odds. This was her happy place. Math had always been her refuge, where she felt comfortable. Math was specific, math was undeniable, math was truth.
People, on the other hand, were unpredictable. Even people like her father.
Ivy’s first introduction to math, even before fractals, had been through chess.
On her third birthday, Ivy’s mother had bought her a checkers board.
At this point in her young life, she’d rarely seen her parents fight.
That didn’t happen until later, when her father was spending every waking hour on his work.
But they’d fought then.
Gene had been angry, saying that checkers was linear tic-tac-toe. Said it was for simpletons. He’d taken the board from Ivy, thrown it out. Ivy had cried.
Later that day, Gene had returned with a chess board. Said that chess was a real game, a smart game, a thinking person’s game.
“There are more possible chess games than there are atoms in the universe, Ivy.”
That was her father—that was Eugene Reeves. And that was Ivy.
Over the years, they’d played hundreds of games, with Eugene always coming out on top—he never let her win.
Wetness suddenly leaked into the corner of Ivy’s mouth, and she absently licked at it. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been crying.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the call display. Sniffed, wiped more tears before answering.
“Hey, Abs.”
“If it isn’t the Bae-sian Prof!”
Ivy choked.
“What? You saw that?”
“How could I not? You’re famous, bitch!”
“What the hell, Abs! I want it taken down!”
“Why? It’s blowing up! You need to monetize that shit. ‘Member the Hawk Tuah girl? She made hats and shirts . . . hell she even had a meme coin. Made millions.”
Ivy closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
“I just want it gone.”
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Abby continued, either not hearing Ivy or not caring. “The Bae-sian Prof.” She laughed. “Although, after last night, I guess you’ve changed your prudish ways. What was that, anyway? I know you cheated at that coin flipping game.”
Eyes still closed, Ivy said, “It’s called Penney’s game, and it isn’t cheating. You just—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, it was fun, wasn’t it? That Blake guy . . . he was hot.”
No, it wasn’t fun. It was a disaster. I’m still hung over, and if I hadn’t been, I would have never made the stupid STI example in stats class.
“Abs, I just want it taken down,” she said for the hundredth time. “Can you report it—please?”
“Report it? You need to start a TikTok account and repost it. Get some of that influencer guap.”
“Abs? Please?”
Abby groaned.
“You’re no fun. But if you really want me to report it, I will.” Ivy waited. “Okay, done. But I doubt it will do much. Unless—”
“Can you hack it?”
“Hack it?”
“Yeah, hack it to get it taken down.”
“Ivy, TikTok isn’t like Princeton’s—”
“Fine, whatever.”
Silence.
“What are you doing tonight? Wanna go out again?” Abby asked.
“No chance.”
Abby chuckled.
“Yeah, probably for the best. My head is pounding. This morning, I had this client come in for Botox, just their forehead and crow’s feet, and I almost injected her with lip filler.”
Another laugh.
“I gotta go, Abs. Talk soon.”
“Be good, Bae-sian Bitch.”
Ivy hung up before she had to hear Abby’s high-pitched titter again. Abby would laugh, though. Would probably be laughing all day.
Ivy, on the other hand, had work to do. She opened her computer, loaded a spreadsheet. Dr. Moorehead wanted her to upload an abstract for the ACM conference. That was impossible. She was so far behind. Dr. Moorehead also wanted her to continue her father’s work. That, too, was impossible.
Ivy spent ten minutes just scrolling through data before giving up. It wasn’t happening. Every time she blinked, she saw the dead body.
The numbers.
Yeah, Abby Granger definitely led the simpler life.