50
Getting Stewart to invite me to the ball turns out to be incredibly easy. Just a couple of well-placed hints and he brings it up like it’s his own idea. He tells me that he hates these parties because he feels awkward and he usually hides in the bathroom, waiting for the event to be over. He’s relieved when I agree to go with him, acting like I’m the one doing him a favor.
The subterfuge makes me feel terrible. I picture myself as Pennywise the Clown about to drag Stewart down into the sewers and devour him. This is for Mom, I remind myself daily. If I can’t keep paying the medical bills, then she won’t get the treatment she needs.
The day before the party, we head to the Strip in our show-girl costumes. Today, Shelly drives a red SUV with a dented bumper. Her hair is a rich brunette, all her usual bright colors gone. The new hair color is for the heist. She doesn’t want to stand out in the crowd in case we’re pursued, a thought that terrifies me.
“You think we can really pull this off?” I ask. The car window is open, and the warm desert wind whips my hair, sending strands into my eyes. I comb them aside with my fingers, holding my hair to the side in a loose ponytail.
“Oh, yeah. With the information Rafe has, we’ll get that money,” Shelly answers without hesitation.
“How can you be so sure? How does Rafe know so much about Johnny?” My mind swirls with unanswered questions.
She shoots me an incredulous look. “Even after everything that happened with those guys who chased us, you still don’t know?”
“Know what?” I lift my hands, palms up.
Shelly shakes her head. “Who Rafe is.”
For a minute, I almost don’t want to know. I want to hold onto my dream version of Rafe, the one with the secret heart of gold. But now that we’re planning this robbery, it’s time to let that illusion go. I need to understand what I’m getting into. “What do you mean?”
Shelly gives me a look of affectionate disgust. “This is what you get for always having your head stuck in a book, Tiffany. I swear an alien spaceship could land in the middle of school and you wouldn’t even notice.” Her smile softens her words.
“Rafe is part of the Kingsman Gang, their Latin branch. His whole family is involved, with his dad as the head. I don’t know all the details, just that he’s high up and not only because he’s related. You should hear what people say about him, that they’ve never seen someone that young shoot up the ranks so fast. They talk about how he’s so smart. So ruthless. I think his dad is grooming him to take over.” She’s somber, almost sad, as her eyes meet mine. “He’s their future.”
“Oh.” It’s what I expected, but the thought of organized crime makes me cringe. I can’t believe that I’m consorting with an actual gang.
God help me.
“That’s why Rafe used to have bruises on his arms? From gang stuff?” I ask.
Shelly shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “That or else from his dad. I hear he’s a real asshole.”
“What about Rafe’s mom?” There’s a lump in my throat from the thought that Rafe was abused. My fantasy reoccurs, the one where I rescue him.
Shelly sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “What mom? He’s never had one. I don’t know what happened to her, though. No one talks about it.”
“I don’t get it.” I frown, working through this new information. “You said Rafe’s their future, but he said he wants to leave. Won’t his family be mad?”
“They’ll be furious.” Her fear is palpable, which in turn scares me. I’ve seen Shelly mad plenty of times but hardly ever frightened. “If Rafe stays,” she says and swallows, “he’ll end up dead or in jail. He might be their future, but that’s the only future left to him.”
We’re silent then, each of us lost in our thoughts. Palm trees sway outside the car window. Wind blows dust across an empty lot. A mangy dog prowls down an alleyway.
“What’re you going to wear to the party, Tiffany?” Shelly interrupts the quiet, and I swing my head back to her.
I perk up, excited to share my idea. “My mom has this old dress. She keeps it in the very back of her closet. It’s beautiful, pure white with a long full skirt. Super fancy. It even has these deep pockets that’ll be perfect for hiding the keycard.” I’ve wanted to try that dress on since I was a child, but Mom never let me. Plus, it was always too big. I’ve grown as tall as my mother, so it should fit.
“What? Like a wedding dress?” Shelly asks, with a side glance my way.
“No, more like a ball gown.” That fabric had felt so smooth in my hands when I touched it as a small child. I’ve never forgotten the sensation.
She tilts her head. “Why would your mom have a dress like that?” The blinker makes a clicking noise as we take a right at the next intersection.
“Not sure. I’ve never seen her wear it. When I asked about it, she changed the subject.” I adjust the straps of my bikini top. They’re digging into my shoulders again. I’ll have red grooves in my skin by the end of the night.
“If she doesn’t talk about the dress, why didn’t she throw it away?” Shelly pulls into the Starlight parking lot.
After she parks, we look around carefully before unlocking our doors and stepping out of the SUV. We’re both still gun-shy after our run-in with Skull Man. This parking lot stirs those dark memories.
“I have no idea where that dress comes from. My mom has secrets, a whole life before we moved here that she won’t talk about. It’s frustrating because it’s my history too. I should have some right to it. I don’t know where or who I come from.” Tears prick at the back of my throat. The stress of the upcoming ball, not to mention school and my mom’s illness, is making me overly emotional. I’ve been on the verge of a meltdown several times this past week.
Shelly sees my distress. “Hey,” she says gently, “don’t feel too bad about it. I know exactly who and where I come from. Let me tell you, it’s no comfort. More like a self-fulfilling prophecy. You’re lucky not to have all that baggage weighing you down.”
I blink back my tears before they fall. “It’s just hard sometimes, like I can’t really know who I am since I don’t know where I come from.”
Shelly reaches an arm around my shoulder and gives me a soft squeeze. “I know who you are. You’re Tiffany, the best friend and daughter anyone could ever ask for. You’re smart and brave and hot as hell.” She lightly pinches my arm and grins mischievously at the last part.
“Don’t you ever forget those things.” Shelly’s demeanor changes. Her eyes glisten, and she chokes out fiercely, “No matter what happens after tomorrow, don’t forget who you are and that I love you.” She’s not usually big on public displays of affection, so I’m shocked when she pulls me into a long, hard hug.
Looks like I’m not the only one worried about the robbery.
“I love you too, Shelly.” I hold my best friend tight, my tears forgotten.