Lawrence sits up farther and levels a look at the man. “You’ve carried this with you your entire life. To what? Get even? This is crazy. I had nothing to do with your business.” His eyes flash. I can only imagine that this man’s meddling in L’s relationship cuts deep. “Why would you do that to me—to us?”
The man laughs again, clearly off his rocker. “To get what’s mine. Fame. Fortune. Everything Casey promised me. I want my reward. I want to be on the news. I want to be known, but instead you got it all.”
Whalon takes L’s hand and addresses DeWayne. “You were crazy back then, and you’re crazy now. And I’m not going to let your threat hang over my head any longer. You convinced me the business world would never accept me—that my family would never accept me as I was. That I needed to prove myself. Well, I think I’ve done that, and I think it’s far past time that the world knows who I am. And who was important in making me who I am today. You may have wanted to tear us apart as young men, but it looks like you failed in keeping us from finding each other again—in fact, we have you to thank for it, I think.” He squeezes L’s hand, and a murmur runs through the crowd.
Lawrence slumps down, clearly in pain or overcome by Whalon’s declaration. My quick awwww cute is followed immediately by worry. “L, are you dead? Did he kill you? Are you bleeding? Wait, why aren’t you in the hospital?”
“Shwanda drove me. I just had a bad feeling,” Lawrence manages.
The police drag the man, kicking and screaming, through the crowd. He brandishes his finger one more time, pointing at where I sit right in front of Ryan, Lelani, and Daniel.
They’re almost to the door when the Hatter laughs again. “I may be going down, but I’m taking you with me, Golden Arrow. What do we think Casey is going to say when he finds out he’s been employing the very person he’s been trying to find?”
Everyone goes still, even the police. Suddenly our little group is the center of attention. I start to laugh it off, but the man speaks again. “Oh yes, I have proof, and the police will be so interested in trading what I have to offer that I’ll be back out on this street again before you know it. And all of you had better watch out.” His smile is all razor teeth and no mirth. It’s a promise.
“Shut. Up.” Shwanda swoops in, snatches his cane, and snaps it in half.
This startles the man so much he stares for just a moment before grinning. “Don’t believe me? Fine. I’ll just out the Arrow right here, or should I say arrows—”
Ryan steps around our group, standing alone in the cleared circle on the floor, bleeding from his throat.
“Ryan, no,” Lawrence says, a dry cough racking his body.
“Ry?” I ask. Surely this is a joke.
Ryan doesn’t move. None of us move.
The police stare. I catch sight of Matteo and Rideout, a cuffed Cleopatra between them.
“He’s right,” Ryan says in a clear voice.
There’s no way. This is my roommate. My nerdy, game-playing roommate.
And yet. Time stops, and I stare at Ryan. He’s so sure, so calm. Almost noble. He’s not faking it, and that leaves me terrified.
The man starts to talk again, but Ryan raises his voice above his. “Shut him up, and I’ll tell you the truth. My work is done; my friend is safe—I’m ready to confess. I am the Golden Arrow. No one else, none of those imposters. And I have enough proof to share with the police that you’ll be behind bars for the rest of your life.”
Talk about a gut punch.
But.
Everything, everything, about this twist checks out in my gut. I don’t want it to. I want it to be full of holes, but it sits like a pit in my stomach. Perfect. Holeless. Ryan’s scrapes, his brushes with drug dealers. Skulking about in the dark. His obsession with CrossFit, his knowledge of the comics. Hell, even his move to save us from the explosion. I have no idea how he pulled it off, I just know . . . he could have.
I watch, with Lawrence shaking in my lap, as Ryan is cuffed by police—officially a vigilante superhero behind bars.
CHAPTER 33
“We’ll have to go to the station,” Matteo says gently, sitting next to me on the edge of the catwalk, where I’m kicking my one foot that lost its shoe. I haven’t even tried to find it. My wig is a complete disaster, my dress covered in blood. Lawrence’s, Ryan’s, mine—I don’t know. I declined the ambulance ride to the hospital, but I need to check in and see how Lawrence is doing since he went back.
“Yeah, I figured.”
“Lelani went with Ryan, and I took L’s statement before he headed back to the hospital.”
This rouses me a little bit. “Did he say at all how he put everything together? How on earth did he appear just at the right time?”
“Well, he calls this guy the Hatter. And he said those journal pages you left just sort of clicked. The boy who Casey had worked with before him had helped Casey with gadgets and little concoctions for his crime fighting—remember, Casey saw himself as a real superhero. It was his place Lawrence took the night of the party thirty years ago.”
I remembered Lawrence’s story, saying all Casey had to give him to wear was a hat.
“We’re not clear on all the particulars, but apparently DeWayne has been eaten alive by jealousy. First that Casey Senior chose to hire Lawrence instead of him, and then that Lawrence rose to fame not only for his drag but also because of the Casey Senior case again. He thought Lawrence was profiting off the death of Casey Senior—something he couldn’t stand. So, he hired Cleopatra to be his front woman, and he systematically targeted L. By strengthening his competition, and by ultimately trying to keep him silent when he got too close. We suspect he joined up with Muñez after Casey dumped him and ultimately became his drug chemist. He just . . . kept going when Muñez was jailed, but he needed a new front person.”
“Cleo. What on earth happened there?”
Matteo nods. “Lost her head; thought if she got away she wouldn’t get jail time.”
“That’s too bad. What will happen to Ryan?”
Matteo sighs. “There will be an investigation, but since he confessed . . . he even confessed to breaking into the evidence room and stealing the drug samples to test.”
I’m beyond glum. Slightly impressed that he pulled that off, if it was really him, but incredibly glum.
“We can always hope it’s a mistake,” Matteo offers, though we know it’s an empty comfort.
I sigh. “Yeah.”
Matteo picks up a glass from the table nearest the catwalk and holds it up to the light. “Well, at least he can rest assured that he accomplished his goal. Look how many people are behind bars thanks to his work.”
“I guess, but this is a lousy price to pay.”
Matteo shrugs and hops down to the floor. “He might not think so. The safety of your friends and family is worth an awful lot.” He holds up the glass again and this time looks through the end.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Trying to see what Lewis Carroll saw.”
I smile. “Alice through the looking glass? Did you just make a joke?”
He smiles and offers me a hand. “You’re rubbing off on me.”
I sigh and hop down too. “You’re rubbing off on me. Literally. Let’s go get you de-glittered.”
“I thought you’d never offer. This stuff is stickier than tar.”
He puts the glass down on the table, and we walk through the door out into a world that is suddenly much less exciting. Sure, there’re no crazy drug dealers on the loose, but . . . now I live in a world where the Golden Arrow isn’t out there watching over us. I know justice was served, but is life really better? I look into the dark sky of Halloween, sad the magic is gone.
“Do you think Casey will give the reward money to Ryan?” I ask suddenly.
Matteo’s eyebrows rise. “Ah—I’m not sure, but I suppose Twitter is all over it.”
“Number one trending topic in LA,” I confirm.
Matteo is silent a minu
te but then shrugs. “I hope so. It would buy him a hell of a lawyer, and honestly, it’s probably a story that will sell like crazy.”
I snort, picturing Ryan penning a “tell-all,” and then sober at the realization that he has a tell-all to sell.
My shoulders droop. Ryan doesn’t belong in jail. “Let’s go try and find a way to keep my roommate out of jail, okay?”
Matteo grabs his red wig, wraps his arm over mine, and guides me to the door. “I can’t promise anything.”
I sigh. “I know.”
We link arms and walk out into the Halloween night, into a world where our vigilante hero no longer exists in anonymity. The world feels just a little less safe. Gotham without its Bat.
“I’ll try, though.” Matteo’s tone is Captain America–level genuine, and I know he means it.
My mouth quirks to the side as we stroll, and Matteo must notice, because he stops us mid-stride. “What?”
Maybe he’s afraid I don’t believe him. “You know, there’s an old Jedi Master that says something about trying—”
“Are you really going to quote Yoda right now?” Matteo pulls me forward again.
I’m impressed he can even guess what I’m going to say. The Padawan has become a Jedi Knight—a fitting title for Matteo. “I think it’s applicable in this situation.”
Again we stop, this time in a puddle of streetlamp light. Matteo turns me to face him, hands on my arms. “MG, I will do something, I just can’t promise that it’ll have much effect. All I can do here is to try. And I will.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead before steering us once more toward his car.
I sigh. Maybe, held in that light, Yoda was wrong to be so cut-and-dried. Sometimes trying is all you can do.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book, more than any other I’ve ever written, was a community effort. I owe a debt of gratitude to every single person who kept me going and played a part in finishing 2018 and this book.
First off and foremost, thank you to my family for seeing me through this crazy year. Between the complicated pregnancy, the complicated delivery, and bringing home another human for our family—not to mention attempting to finish a book in a month with a newborn—it’s been a wild ride. To my husband, Kent, for ceaselessly cheerleading my writing career, putting up with the late nights, and working for our dreams right alongside me while being the best dad ever. To my mother, who spent so much of her time with our family right after the baby was born: I couldn’t have managed this second book without you. Thank you to my other mom and dad, and Bee and Duff, for unlimited support and questions about my book around the dinner table. These books wouldn’t exist without you guys.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank my plotting partner, Trisha, for the crash course we did while I was so sick—you even provided ice cream, as I recall. Here’s to less hectic plotting in the future! And always a big thank-you to my girls: Erin, Vanessa, Ashley, and Kristi. There aren’t enough words to express my gratitude for you all, and your willingness to hash out plot, read rough drafts, or just inspire me with your lives.
Secondly, but no less importantly, thank you to my writing crew. Ian, you’ve done it again as an amazing CP, and I will forever laugh that I managed to get exploding pizza into this novel. These books would be dreck without your witty banter. Thanks too to Mike Chen for the cheerleading and the support of being debut authors together—your love of MG’s world means more than you know! The rest of my writing posse is so vital to all this: my PW ’16 #Amwriting group, Debut ’18 and ’19 groups, my Mom Writers group, and basically everyone on writer Twitter who has buoyed me when I thought I couldn’t do this. Community is everything in this career. I have the best community.
A huge shout-out to my agent, Joanna, for being so kind, compassionate, and understanding during my year of so many personal Everests. To my editor Adrienne: my debut experience has been amazing, and I’ll forever be indebted to you for your love and guidance of MG et al.! So many other people from 47North have made this process amazing. To Jaym, my ever-faithful developmental editor: you are my people, through and through. A huge thanks to Brittney of 47North and the Little Bird team for everything you’ve done.
As MG would say, onward and upward!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2018 Julie Patton
Meghan Scott Molin is the author of The Frame-Up and The Queen Con, the first two books in the Golden Arrow series. After studying architecture and opera at college, she worked as a barn manager before becoming a professional photographer. An avid lover of all the nerd things—Star Wars, Star Trek, hobbits, Doctor Who, and more—Meghan also enjoys cooking, dreaming of travel, and listening to audiobooks in the barn. She lives in Colorado with her husband (and fellow zookeeper), her sons, two horses, a cat, and a rambunctious corgi. For more information about Meghan, visit her website at www.MeghanScottMolin.com or follow her on Twitter (@megfuzzle).
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