Chapter Twenty-Six
We still need her,” Pax says the following day. My head pounds and my tongue feels like I’ve licked Snuff clean. Urp. But Kiyoko is practically doing cartwheels across the wide, wooden floors of Julia’s Bureau.
My already-queasy stomach twists further with the thought of Clarice DuBois joining our merry band of bandits. Yes, we need her. No, I don’t have to like it.
Pax isn’t looking at me. The details of last evening are fuzzy, but I think I must’ve said something that’s making him so standoffish today.
“William, thank you again for her address book. It’s been immensely helpful.
But these folks aren’t getting us in the one door we need.
We’ve tried every way we know to get to Max Blanck, and nothing is working. She has to include us in her act.”
We’ve propped the front door open wide to let in the beautiful May morning. We only have eleven days until Blanck’s party. The clocks in the shop next door chip away our remaining time, second by second, tick by tick.
“We need Clarice DuBois.”
“She needs a more persuasive argument than simply join us.” I eyeball the raw egg in a glass that William swears is the cure to my hangover, and I gag a bit. A prairie oyster, he called it. “Why would she include us in her act for Blanck’s party? What’s in it for her?”
Pax’s silvery green eyes evade mine. His sharp, starched shirt is unbuttoned at his throat, and one side is untucked from his tailored pants. He’s obviously been distracted by this. “We need to cut her in.” He pauses, then adds, “That means a smaller cut for each of us, of course.”
William, who was watching Nirav toss bits of cracker out the door to pigeons, spins to face us. “The Swedes say Det ?r ingen ko p? isen. It literally means ‘There’s no cow on the ice.’ ”
I chuckle. “And what does that mean?”
“It means there’s no need to worry. Clarice is a sneaky woman, but she is not evil. Plus, it’s never really felt like my money, this haul. So, I’m okay with it.”
Nirav shrugs and takes William’s hand. He nods and points at William, Me too.
“I don’t think she needs money,” I say.
“Everyone needs money, Stella,” Pax says, his voice hoarse. Coupled with the purple shadows under his eyes, I realize he’s been lacking sleep. “Especially the rich. Once you’ve had money, you can’t imagine the pain of not having money.”
Kiyoko doesn’t look up from the wooden figurine dog she’s carving. She inks her contact information on toys like this and hands them to potential clients. “Smaller pieces of pie for us.”
Pax looks at me at last, pleadingly. What is it about those silvery green eyes?
I sigh. “I’ve never really been in it for the pie.”
Silence fills the room. Tick, tick, tick from the clocks next door.
Kiyoko flicks her knife, and the point of it drives into the countertop. She hops off her stool, scoops up the shavings, and brings the scraps to dump them in the back alley. I follow, closing the door behind me.
“What are your real thoughts?” I pry.
“What are yours?” she counters.
“What do you mean?”
“Are we going to ask each other questions all afternoon?”
I smile, then scowl. The way Clarice laughed at Pax’s jokes… ugh.
“Stella,” Kiyoko says gently. “You’re right to see Clarice as a threat to… whatever you and Pax have.”
My brick walls erect here. But I don’t bother denying anything. Kiyoko is too smart for that.
“So you have to choose,” she says. “Revenge or love.”
Love?
The thought of it panics me. No, I can’t have that. Daisy never got that, and I won’t have it, either. We are temporary, after all. I march back inside.
“Okay,” I say. “Six pieces of pie instead of five. Let’s cut Clarice DuBois in.”
Revenge. I choose revenge.
Pax looks incredulous. Is that a hint of hurt I see? “Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay.” Pax drops into a chair. “Now. When shall we call on her…?”
I snort.
“What?” Pax asks. His silver eyes dart around the room like sleek fish. He’s playing daft, and I can’t tell if I appreciate the effort or if it angers me.
Kiyoko picks up a sliver of wood and pretends it’s a cigarette. “Mademoiselle DuBois needs proposals,” she says in a fake French accent. We all laugh, except Pax.
“Pax,” William says. He adjusts his spectacles. “You should definitely call on her alone.”
It makes my heart ache, hearing William say this. But he’s right. And I choose revenge.
I finally look up from the floor slats and over to Pax.
And oh, God. He’s looking right at me. But rather than looking injured or upset, he’s leaning forward, knees on elbows, and his eyes sparkle with tease.
He’s confident he can win Clarice DuBois over at last. He bites his lower lip and dips his chin. He’s asking permission.
Dammit.
I burn with indecision. Perhaps this is Spirit’s way of finally getting me to forgo this whole charade; I simply refuse to let the boy I enjoy looking at to go… persuade another woman. Spirit offers me the symbol of balancing scales, swaying up and down.
It’s an infuriating sign, these scales. Far from an answer. One side will most certainly outweigh another. This sign doesn’t even tell me which side is which.
“Yes,” I say at last, hoping I sound casual. “It should definitely be you. Alone.”
I’m straining the cords in my neck, I’m trying so hard to not show any emotion. To prevent myself from shouting, No, don’t go.
His expression changes; he looks surprised. If he expected me to argue that we should all go, he doesn’t know me well. If he expected me to choose love over revenge, he doesn’t know me at all. “Are you certain?”
I’d ask Spirit what I should do, but I of course can’t ask Spirit a damn thing. So instead of listening to my heart, which knows very well how Mlle DuBois will choose to negotiate, I listen to my head.
“Yes, of course,” I say. “We need her, partner. Go.”
I toss back the raw egg and it slides down the back of my throat.