She nearly stomps her foot. Saint Tiffany, in full force. “What? Why both?”
I shrug, give her a crooked smile that makes her nostrils flare. “Sometimes shit happens.”
“That’s the worst Venn diagram in the world. Why are you doing this?”
“Why? Because there are no other options. You’re not coming up with any, and I sure as shit can’t think of any other way to get the information we need, other than going to the source and breaking in to Anna’s house.”
“Just give me a chance, Blaze.”
I shake my head. “Here’s something for you to think about: what do you want to do when this is all over?”
“Excuse me?”
“When we’ve finished this business with my mom, what do you want to do with your life?”
“So you’re a guidance counselor, now?”
“I’ll go first: when I’m done here, I want to go back to my life. I want to kick Mack’s ass at pool, like I regularly do. I want to get drunk and have his old lady, Sophia, give me a kick ass tattoo. I want to go for a ride with my brother, Razor; the kind of ride that’ll have his old lady, Samantha, rolling her eyes and saying she’ll see us later in the evening at the ER because we’re both reckless and irresponsible assholes. That’s what I want. Your turn.”
Doubt washes across her face. “I don’t know.”
“Think, Saint Tiffany. This whole mess is over. You’ve got a chance to put your life back where you want it. What do you do?”
“I want a job that matters. I want to wake up and be proud of the work that I’m doing. It doesn’t matter how much money I make, as long as it’s enough to get me by. I just want to do something that impacts people’s lives, even if it’s in a boring way,” she says, pausing. Considering. This woman is so beautiful, even when she screws her face up from thinking so hard. Even though she’s so damn different from me that I have a hard time figuring out how her brain works. “Maybe something like what my dad does. I know you’ll say it’s boring, but a properly functioning and fiscally responsible government makes an enormous impact on people’s lives.”
“You said a lot of shit that I don’t understand, or even really believe in, but if that’s what makes you happy, then we need to do what we can to get you to that as soon as possible. And the way that happens is by me breaking into Anna Ebri’s home.”
“Blaze, no.”
“But don’t worry, I’ll do it while she’s at work. She won’t even know until it’s too late. I’ve done this kind of thing before. You might say I’m fucking great at it.”
She gets dressed. Soon, she’s that same, professional-looking number cruncher I remember. That same woman that turned me down at the bank and stood on a soapbox the second she saw my credit score. I might be taller than her by a long shot, but she sure as fuck is looking down at me right now.
“I won’t support you in this, Blaze. I won’t break into Anna’s house. There are limits, and that’s mine. I told you I’d help, but no crime. If something goes wrong, that’s on you.”
I shrug. Pull on some clothes myself. “I’m fine with that. Hang out here. I’ll be back in an hour or two with whatever I can find in Anna’s house. If you’re still here, you can help me go through it. If not, well, I’ll see what I can get out of it. Or maybe I’ll go back to Anna’s house when I know she’ll be there and pay her a visit.”
“Do I mean so little to you that you’ll just shrug off what I want? You’re being an ass.”
“Maybe I am. But I’m also going to go break into Anna’s house and go through her shit to get what I want. Hopefully, you’re still here when I get back, because it’ll make things a lot easier to have your help; we both fucking know that the only way we think our way out of this problem without hurting people is if you’re here to do the thinking. Otherwise, it’s back to using guns. I’ll see you in an hour.”
“I swear to God, Blaze, don’t do this. You’ll regret it. What are you going to do if someone calls the cops on you? Don’t be shocked if that happens.”
That makes me pause.
That makes my blood burn.
“Are you threatening to rat me out?”
She flinches. And takes way too long to respond. “I’m just saying that the cops are already looking for you. Why would you commit more crimes and make the situation even worse?”
“Are you trying to tell me how to protect my family?”
“I’m telling you that you made me a promise. You said no more crimes. And yet, when I remind you of that, you’re going to just do it anyway?”
“You don’t have any answers for me. This is a way to get what we want — what we need to solve this whole situation — and now you’re telling me to just sit here with my thumb up my ass? Fuck that.”
“I’m telling you to give me a chance to think.”
I shake my head. Start down the stairs. “You want to think? I’ll give you something to think about: you either support me, or you think about getting the fuck out of my house.”
She opens her mouth to answer, but I hardly hear her; her words just wash over my shoulders as I head downstairs. There’s no more time for hiding, no more time for thinking or planning or arguing, it’s time for action. And that is what I do best.
My bike roars between my legs, my gun’s sitting comfortably in
