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Somebody Else's Sky (Something in the Way #2)(80)

By:Jessica Hawkins


"I'm not old," Tiffany said. "And we're celebrating, too, so we should-"

"Will there be drinking?" Manning asked.

Tiffany hooked her elbow in his. "Why don't we go and find out?"

"Yes," Manning said. "Let's."

Tiffany slow-blinked, over exaggerating her surprise. "Really? You want to go out?"

"After we talk," Dad said to Manning, then looked at Corbin and me. "It's nice to see you again, Corbin. You never said how your family is."

"Doing well." His voice, always strong and confident, reverberated against my back. "Looking forward to our annual Hawaii trip."

"And how's NYU?"

"Great. I'm starting an internship on Wall Street next year, actually."

"Wall Street," Dad said enthusiastically. "How about that? Even at my age, that sounds daunting."

"I'm not worried, sir," Corbin said. "Just excited."

"Such ambition, just like Lake." Dad raised his beer can to us. "I can see why she's so smitten with you."

"Dad," I said, horrified. I had never once spoken to him about Corbin in a romantic way. My mom, yes, but only to explain there was nothing more than friendship between us. Corbin didn't need any encouragement.

"Sorry, sorry," Dad said, laughing. "I forget what it's like to have a teenage crush." He glanced at Manning. "It can feel like the whole damn world, can't it?"





20





Manning





Mr. Kaplan's study was even more intimidating than I expected, and Tiffany had warned me about the guns. They sat displayed behind glass, which was too bad. If a man had a real reason to own a Colt .45, he shouldn't keep it pristine and locked up. I figured maybe it was so the girls wouldn't be able to get to them.

Charles came in with a bottle of Booker's and two glasses. "You like guns?" he asked as he went to his desk. "I guess you would since you wanted to be a cop."

I turned to him. "I'm not really supposed to be around them."

"Don't worry, I doubt your parole officer's going to come knocking tonight. Have a seat."

"I'll stand." Since becoming a free man, I didn't move for anyone.

"All right, then." Charles poured our drinks with surprising calm. I took that to be a bad thing. Like maybe he was about to stab me in the back, or in the front, or make me disappear. All because fucking Tiffany couldn't keep her mouth shut. I'd wanted to talk to both Lake and Charles before the topic of marriage ever even came up.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to you," I said. "Truth is, I haven't really wrapped my head around the marriage thing yet. Tiffany and I just started talking about all this a couple weeks ago. I would've asked for your blessing-"



       
         
       
        

"It's okay." Charles passed me a drink. "I meant what I said. I'm happy about it."

I took a bolstering sip. "With all due respect . . . why?"

He sat at his desk and smiled into his glass as if it were a movie screen playing back the good old days. "You've been good for Tiffany. I wouldn't've believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"I haven't exactly been your favorite person."

"No, and I'm not saying things are automatically erased between us. Do I like the idea of my daughter marrying a felon?" He shook his head. "But Tiffany and Cathy are both pretty convinced that you didn't commit that crime."

I crossed an arm over my chest, swirling my drink. "I didn't. I got fucked, but I did my time like a man, and I'd like if you could find a way to accept that."

He nodded slowly, assessing me. "I can do better than accept it. Do you still want to go to the police academy?"

It wasn't the response I expected. I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

"I'm sure I can do some digging, see if I have any mutual friends who can help us out."

"I think it's going to take more than a good word to get a felon on the force."

"I'm talking about getting your record expunged."

I leaned in, as if I'd misheard. I'd thought, leaving the gates of prison, the hard part was over. I'd been wrong. I hadn't accounted for the stress of having a felony record. It gave landlords and banks and the general public the right to discriminate against me. It meant three years of checking in with a PO, living in Orange County, and staying within state lines. Charles might as well have placed the most decadent dessert ever made in front of me and handed me a fork. "You can do that? You would do that?"