Path of Thieves

by Sunniva Dee

  “Okay so forget about Newbark. Dude.” He breathes against the receiver. “That was the final straw, right? Time to get the hell out of your dad’s house.”

  My silence keeps him going. “It’s not my place or anything, but I like you and Paislee loves you to the freaking moon and back. Give me a minute. Keep your phone close, all right, and stay out of trouble.”

  “Yeah, trouble’s the last thing I’ll be looking for.”

  I trudge along the roadside. Unload Dad’s gun and bury it deep in a trash can. My cell is warm in my pocket, so inviting it’s a bitch not to call Nadine at three in the morning.

  How often do I do this though, wake her up when she’s sound asleep? The phone seems to wiggle itself back out, and my pointer gets into position over the call icon. I’m a jerk. Hold your horses for once, McConnely.

  Just—

  Shit’s going down, babe. Call me when you wake up.

  I let out a relieved huff as my text leaves.

  The moon is full and big, and I marvel at my luck that it’s not raining. Tall grass and wild palm trees line the road as I slowly pass one mansion after the other. There are lights in the distance, but when they grow bigger, I hunch down in the ditch, my arms over my head until they pass. I’m not afraid of people. I’m just not taking any chances on my father following me.

  I peer up, catching the tail lights of a truck, not my father’s little Chevy. I exhale, get to my feet again, and continue walking.

  I lied when I told Keyon about a railway station. I don’t know if they have one in Melbourne Beach, but if they don’t, I’ll still find my way to somewhere better.

  My phone buzzes again. It’s Keyon lighting up my screen. I push it to my ear, letting out a “Yo.”

  “What road are you on?”

  “Maritime something and”—I glance at the sign indicating the crossroad ahead—“Cruyff Way.”

  “Okay.” Keyon touches keys and makes it beep in my ear. I pull the phone away until he speaks again. “’Kay, go north on it.”

  “Already am.”

  “In one and a half miles, you’ll hit the Doubletree.”

  “The Doubletree?”

  “You heard of it? It’s a hotel,” he says, half playful.

  “Yes, but I don’t understand.”

  “Alliance Cage Warriors has bonus points on it, and I just got you a room.”

  “You...? You shouldn’t have. I don’t need—”

  “—to sleep? Your sister, I’m sure, would beg to differ. Cugs, don’t worry about it. I want to do this, and I’m not even paying for it. I’ll meet you there before noon tomorrow.”

  The words in my head become scarce. A mixture of guilt and relief threatens to make my voice crack, so I just mutter, “Thanks,” and hang up.

  The moon slides behind a cloud as the hotel appears in front of me. Tall, the Doubletree’s towers rise from the ocean, a promise of hope this early first morning of the rest of my life. I step onto its pavers. I’m a trespasser, a stranger, a criminal. I shouldn’t be here, an intruder who’s bad for unknown houses. I choke it, each sliver of that thought. That’s not me anymore.

  The foyer is simple and beachy, and the receptionist looks up, a polite smile on his mouth. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I have a room here?” I don’t sound assertive, so I clear my throat before I continue, telling him a friend called in the reservation.

  He finds me. He has no problem giving me the key. He needs a copy of my driver’s license and my credit card. I give him my sad debit card with a few hundred bucks on it. Thankfully, he promises it’s just for backup and he won’t charge me. Good, because what would I do with no money at all?

  He points, helpful. I get on the elevator to the ninth floor. Use the key card to open the door to my room and turn the light on.

  I scan the surroundings, dark carpet with an elegant pattern, a king-sized bed with a comforter and cushions that look unreal. A bathroom to one side, tiled from bottom to top, big mirror, and all I could possibly need of toiletries.

  My heart hammers.

  I walk to the drapes. Find sliding glass doors and a small balcony beyond. The door is heavy to open, but once I’ve managed, the ocean floods my senses from nine floors below.

  The moon peeks out again, still with me. It takes in my unearned luck while the ocean deafens the sound of my heart.

  I swing, alone in the doorway. I stalk to the bathroom, and once I’m there, I throw up.

  At the Doubletree, I sleep the sleep of someone innocent. With my phone turned off I save battery and I can’t hear my father calling.

  It’s ten o’clock when I wake up. I’m on a heavenly bed between heavenly sheets, and my head is mushed into heavenly pillows. I get up and shower before I switch my phone back on to call Nadine. Instantly, it rings.

  “Dude, where are you? I went over to your house, and you’re not home. Your father’s being odd about it too. Where are you?” Bear repeats.

  “Ah.” My voice is unused. “I’m in Melbourne Beach at a hotel.”

  “A hotel? Why the hell?”

  I pause and twist my lip between two fingers. “I had a falling-out with the old man.”

  “Cool, you gonna stay at that hotel then?” He sniffs like this happens all the time.

  “No, Keyon’s coming here.”

  “Keyon? As in your sister’s Keyon?”

  “Yeah. How many Keyons do you think I know?”

  “All riight.” The word prolongs as he considers. “Oh, is Nadine with you?”

  I exhale through my nostrils, head heavy in my palm. “No, she’s still in Long Island. I need to go.”

  “Wait up, I wanted to see you for a reason. I’m in Newbark, and—”

  “Why you came by my house, I bet. That’s a lot of gas back and forth to Gainesville all the time by the way.”

  “Well, yeah. We’re moving Liza’s stuff up there too. Takes a few trips, let’s just say. She’s signed off on her lease now and moving in. Dude, she hates that I have to live in the football dorms.”

  “That surprise you?”

  “I’ll spend most of the time at her place though. She’s stoked.”

  “Thought you said she hated it.”

  “Whatever. So I had dinner with the head coach of the Gators last night.”

  “You, a newbie, had dinner with who, now?” My voice conveys the exact incredulity I feel.

  “He likes me, man. What can I say?”

  “Right, the super-successful head coach of the Gators takes time for you.”

  “The man has an insane collection of Swiss wrist watches from the nineteenth century.”

  “Huh?”

  “I might’ve let it drop that ours, at the house, is pretty impressive too.”

  “Geez, how’re you gonna get away with that? You don’t even—”

  “The internet. All I had to do is memorize parts of the story of this one guy in Italy. Dude’s craziness times twelve, but he really knows his shit about Swiss watches from the nineteenth century.”

  I snort out laughing. “Why?”

  “Come on, Cugs. You think he would have had dinner with a rookie like me without some common obsession?”

  “Well, he is Coach’s college BFF. Could’ve been a favor to him, I guess.”

  “C’mon.” He blows air at the receiver. Okay, so Coach opened the lines of communication, but the Swiss watches did the footwork.”

  My backpack rests on the desk by the TV. It’s slim now that I’ve trashed all of my lock-picking and alarm-severing tools. There are just a T-shirt—the one I removed when I dressed in my black burglar get-up—and a pair of khaki shorts. I empty the backpack on the bed. “Well, congrats. Bear’s got a new friend for life. Unless said friend visits the fam in Newbark.”

  Bear snickers. “
I’m not worried. The day he visits my family will be the day I win my first pro-wrestling belt.” Considering his build, the thought isn’t too farfetched. “Anyway, I might’ve mentioned you and your stats, that you got injured and yada-yada.”

  “Right. Yada-yada.”

  “He now knows you’ll be there for tryouts in a week.”

  “What? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “But he’s interested! I yacked up a storm about you, like if it weren’t for you, lots of our touchdowns in junior and part of senior year would never have happened.”

  Crap, I don’t want to know any more. “No. I’d embarrass you, and I’d embarrass myself. I’m not in the kind of shape he needs.”

  “Bullshit, you’re in great shape, and you’ve got a week to perfect it. When you return to Newbark, we’re going to train nonstop until we leave.”

  “I won’t be returning to the prefab.”

  “Fine, sleep at my house then. It’s not like you haven’t couch-surfed with us before. I’ll tell Mom.”

  There’s a knock. It’s loud.

  “Is that your door?”

  “Yeah, hold on.” Through the peephole, Keyon stares back, one cat eye on me like he knows I’m watching.

  “Who is it?” Bear asks.

  “Hi, Keyon,” I say, unhooking the chain. Keyon gives me a handshake as soon as he’s inside. High, low, and half a twist. “Bear, I gotta call you back.”

  “We’re on, right?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Well, I’ll pick up your gear and stuff it in my closet. Sound good?”

  Pent-up air explodes from my mouth. People talk about the world revolving around someone. It’s like it’s happening to me right now, and I’m not even doing much. No, it’s all friends, girlfriends, family.

  “Yeah... I’d like that. I owe you one,” I say, my voice unsteady.

  “No sweat. I’ll be ogling your stepmom.”

  “What? You did not just say—”

  “No, you were just getting girly or something. Anyway. Call me.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

  “Hmm. When did you eat last?”

  I think back. Before the first mansion, which was after dark. It’s not too much of a stretch when I say, “Midnight.”

  Keyon’s eyes narrow, not buying it. “Well, I’m hungry. Let’s hit the buffet downstairs since it’s part of the room deal anyway.” It’s not. The receptionist kept repeating the additional price, which was more than I’d ever pay for dinner.

  The downstairs restaurant is rustic and orange, tall windows giving to an outdoor beach patio. Elderly couples with dogs and parents with kids stroll by down there, living the moment and a life that’s Hallmark-worthy.

  My stomach growls. It’ll seem odd if I don’t play along, so I nod “yes” to coffee and trot after Keyon to the buffet, which is extensive.

  Hotcakes with warm syrup. Bacon. Hash browns, eggs, biscuits with gravy. My mouth waters like I’ve never seen food before. Even the cereal and that display of yogurt on ice make me drool. I grab a little of everything. As we sit down at our table, I shoot a quick glance at Keyon’s plate before I start on my own. He’s having eggs, but they’re poached, and then there’s a granola parfait kind of thing.

  Keyon came to the buffet for me. All he picked up from it was some fruit, and the rest of his meal waited at the table when we returned, special-ordered. Worry streams through me at that; Keyon will be paying for three meals, his fighter diet separate from the buffets.

  Worst case, I can pay for myself. Really, I should pay for the both of us.

  “Paislee and I talked this morning.” He cleaves an egg with his fork.

  “How is she?” I ask like we’re having an everyday chat between equals, two men with our futures set straight. Easy, nice, smooth.

  “She’s happy you finally fought back and hopes you never talk to him again.”

  It sounds drastic. I understand.

  “Are you okay with coming to Tampa with me? I’m not Paislee so I won’t be twisting your arm.” A crooked smile curls his lip at the thought of her.

  “She’s something else, huh?”

  He nods. “Sure is.”

  “I’m cool with that plan.”

  In Tampa, Keyon’s fight gym lets me use their weight room and their treadmills because I’m family to him. That’s his version. I think he secretly pays for me, but it’s a concern I’m tabling for another time.

  At night, I sleep on Keyon’s couch with Simon the cat cuddled up to me. During the day, I receive phone calls from Paislee, Mom, and Bear, all for different reasons. I can’t get a hold of Nadine though, and when I think of her, a small vacuum materializes at the solar plexus.

  I’ve met a friend of Keyon’s at Alliance Cage Warriors. His name is Victor, and he’s got a morning routine that suits me. It’s an hour-long cardio routine that starts at the bottom of a parking garage. The construction is ten floors tall, and it’s Hell on Earth to sprint the steep stairway. Victor hardly even breathes on the third run up, while I need to lean on my thighs to catch my breath.

  “Whoa.” I moan, eyes scrunched shut before I look at Keyon who’s with us today. He doesn’t find the situation amusing. Pretty sure I would have if I were in better shape than him.

  “You’re doing great. Another go?” Keyon bobs his head toward the stairway and takes off after Victor before I can reply. Of course I follow.

  Dad calls every day. Whenever he’s on the phone trying to convince me to return to Newbark, Mom calls, her name striking through his face on the screen.

  Right and wrong, white and black. It should be easy. But I’m not always sure what I want and where my alliances lie. Sometimes, I want to toss out newness and return to Newbark and the way things were. It would be easy, not for the simplicity of that life, but for having lived this way for a long time.

  But then my mother buzzes right when Dad gives it all. Right when he recaps late-night trips to the beach, bonding, shared father-and-son-ness. As he moves on to renegotiate everything I hate, Mom flashes over the screen, my reminder, a metallic beep on my ear that interrupts my father’s murmured apologies.

  Mom’s timing keeps me from saying, “All right, Dad. I’ll give it a try, one more try, because I love you too.”

  The days pass by quickly. They’re packed with training. Keyon even has a friend who’s a high school football coach. He’s happy to work technique with me in between cardio and weight training.

  Then Paislee’s at the door, a surprise delivery for me, they say. Again, I’ve done nothing to deserve this, a happiness flung in my lap as she throws her arms around me and says she needed to be with me for the tryouts.

  “I can’t.”

  My body is ready, but my brain isn’t. Would it be fair to decent, law-abiding people if I got this chance? After the life I’ve lived, would it be fair to the people whose homes I’ve robbed?

  Would it be—

  Is it—

  Is it possible to change?

  “I’ve never been to jail,” I murmur to Paislee on the drive up to Gainesville. We’ll take turns, but for now, Paislee drives the small Toyota Corolla rental.

  “Thank god. It would’ve been harder to get your chance on a team if you had, I bet.”

  Pink Floyd drones quietly on the radio. It’s perfect for a road flanked by wilderness and swamps, palm trees and bald cypresses. “In a way, I’d feel better if I’d been to Juvi, at least. It’d be an absolution. You know what I mean? I had friends that went.”

  “Partners in crime? Like, literally?” she asks, twisting her head to observe me.

  “Naw, in Newbark, the only person aware of our livelihood was Cynthia. But this one guy on the football team finally got caught. Ryder hadn’t turned eighteen when they cuffed him, s
o he went to Juvi.”

  “I see.” Her answer sounds detached. Maybe that’s how it is if all of your loyalties rest in one basket?

  Geez.

  Am I her basket? A rush of undeserving hits me at the prospect.

  “You’ve never done anything wrong, I bet, so I get that you don’t understand. But you know how people in some churches atone for their sins?”

  “Uh-huh, yep.” Outside, a dense drizzle crashes against the asphalt.

  “Anyway, I think I’d feel good doing that if I went to a church—or Juvi—after a heist with Dad. I hated unloading the trunk. If we’d done a big job, he’d back the car into our driveway. Then he’d open the front door to the house so it became a privacy wall. Our hedge formed a partition on the other side. We’d stand there, staring into heaps of electronics or jewelry or whatever the order had been that night.”

  “Gah, I’m so sorry.” Her pitch is darker than usual, and I fall silent until she says, “Twenty miles left.”

  I snap around. “Only twenty?”

  “Yep. So your friend and his girlfriend—”

  “You mean Bear, the supposed owner of many nineteenth-century watches?”

  Paislee laughs. “I love that. Does their offer still stand?”

  “Yeah, Liza’s got an old L-shape that was left behind by the former tenants. Bear says we’ll sleep like kings on it.” I roll my eyes because I don’t want Paislee’s hopes too high.

  “So tomorrow morning for the tryouts, you sure he has your stuff? If not, we’ll be scrambling to get you ready.”

  “I’m sure, Mom.”

  I wake up in Gainesville on an unfamiliar couch. Cater-corner from me lies my sister, half-smiling in her sleep. I hope she’s dreaming of me doing a good job today.

  I’m edgy, afraid of grabbing this once-in-a-lifetime chance at reaching my goal since middle school. It’d be easier to hightail it back to Al’s Hardware and slip into smaller shoes than the ones set out for me here.

  But Bear snores next-door. Liza is poking her head out from their room. She beams at me through smeared mascara, and when Paislee wakes up, she’ll be as excited as she was last night.