Sleight of Hand

by Natasha Deen

  I keep my head down and do what Alphabet says. Partway through the morning, I run out of spackle for the walls. The extra tubs are in Alphabet’s truck. I head upstairs to ask him for his keys. When I walk into the bathroom, he’s in the shower stall, doing something to the drain.

  I debate walking away, but I have to get my job done. Besides, how would I explain delaying the job? I decide to back away, then call out. That will give him time to stop whatever he’s doing. But as I take a step back, I hit a creaking board.

  He jerks upright and spins around to look at me with shocked eyes.

  “Hey.” I pretend I don’t see any of it. “Just need your keys.”

  “Uh, yeah.” He fakes a laugh. “Was just tossing a spider down the drain.”

  I shrug.

  He hands me the keys, and I get the stuff I need. I don’t head back upstairs. If he’s doing something else up there, I don’t want to know. Later, when we’re supposed to be calling it quits for lunch, I pretend I don’t see him from the corner of my eye. Pretend I don’t see him go behind the stove and mess with the outlets. He heads out for his lunch, and I’m happy to sit with the rest of the crew and get a break from him.

  A couple of hours after lunch, Kevin texts. He says the homeowners’ changes weren’t covered by warranty. They’ve left the payment in the office, on the desk. Can I pick it up? he asks.

  I’ve done this for him a couple of times. Sure, I text back. I head to the office, take in the expensive furniture and professional decor. The desk has an Apple computer, a lamp, some papers neatly stacked to the side, but no check.

  I text Kevin to let him know.

  A second later, the phone rings. “I’m too old for texting. Check the drawer.”

  “Uh—”

  He laughs. “Keep your pants dry. I phoned them, got permission. Jeff thinks he left it in the drawer.”

  “You sure?” The times before, I’ve reached into the mailbox or picked up an envelope on a counter. I feel weird about going into their desk.

  “No, I’m lying. Geez. If Jeff left the checkbook in the drawer, then that’s where he left it.”

  I know he’s straight on, but I still feel a little weird.

  “You know what? Forget it. It’s not for me to ask you to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

  There’s no judgment or tone in his words. Just understanding. Even respect. It’s enough to get me moving. I open it—just enough to peer inside. “There’s nothing there.” To be sure, I move stuff around. There are some books, bank papers, pens, a couple of family photos. “Nothing.”

  “Okay.” He sighs. “I’ll have to talk to him again. I hope this isn’t some deadbeat thing. I hate having to hammer clients for payment. Look, finish up with Alphabet and head back.” There’s a pause. “And Javvan? Thanks, man.”

  I do as I’m told. The next day, it all comes crashing down on my head.

  Chapter Four

  “Javvan, you better get in here.” Kevin’s standing on the top step of the trailer. He waves me inside.

  I don’t like his tone, like he’s about to give me bad news. “Okay.” I rush up the steps, but my anxiety is making my legs feel like rubber. “What’s going on?”

  “Just wait.” He closes the door. Leans against it.

  I sit.

  “You’re on the clock,” he says. “Phone off?”

  I nod.

  “You sure?”

  I pull it out and show him.

  “Good. Remember that house we did yesterday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The wife phoned. Says they’re missing some stuff from the home office.”

  It’s enough to make me almost throw up. “Kevin, I was on the phone with you. Whatever they say is missing—”

  “Some money and a watch.”

  “You know I didn’t take it. I don’t even remember seeing anything like that.”

  He watches me for a minute, then smiles. “Yeah, I know you didn’t.” Kevin walks over, puts his hand on my shoulder. “But the problem is your fingerprints are on the drawer handle, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah.” I twist in my chair so I can see his face, but he’s already moving to stand in front of me. “But you can explain that. I mean, I was just doing what you told me to.”

  He leans against the desk, crosses his arms. “I could.”

  The way he says it—like he knows something I don’t—makes my stomach churn. “Kevin?”

  “You’ve been convicted of theft, and now stuff’s gone missing.”

  “But it wasn’t me!” Panic turns my voice thin and high. “You know I wouldn’t do that kind of thing. You know I didn’t do it!”

  He shrugs. “We hung up. You could’ve done something after we’d finished talking.”

  My brain is spinning, but I can’t make sense of it. “I don’t understand.” Then it comes together. Alphabet. He’s the one who’s stealing. My palms are sweating, and I feel like a rat, but it’s either him or me. I’m not screwing up my probation. I blurt out everything to Kevin, finishing with, “I don’t want any trouble. But it’s Alphabet. Not me.”

  Kevin shakes his head. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “I know.” He takes a breath. “That’s what makes this so difficult.”

  “Makes what so—”

  “You walked into our little arrangement, and now I have to figure out what to do with you.”

  The words are English, but they make no sense. “What?”

  His face is still smiling, but it’s giving me no comfort.

  “You know what the trick is to running a great business?”

  I stare at him.

  “The problem with construction is that it’s a feast-and-famine industry. Some days you’re rolling in dough, other days you’re stopping at the instant-loan places for a quick infusion of moola.” He pushes off the desk. “The trick to making it in this business is creating your own work.”

  He waits for my reaction. I think about Alphabet—messing with the plumbing, the floors. “You damage the houses, then get hired again to fix the mess you created,” I say.

  He continues to smile.

  “But that doesn’t make sense. People would know you’re scamming—”

  “I’m an excellent contractor. I know how to…fix things just right. So does my crew.”

  “You set it up so the damage happens later, when they won’t connect it with you.”

  Silence fills the trailer. Then it hits me, and I start laughing.

  Three wrinkles form in Kevin’s forehead. “You wanna let me in on the punch line?”

  “You. This.” I stand. “It’s another test, right? Like with Alphabet? He was setting me up, wasn’t he? Checking to see how honest I am.”

  He gives me a pitying look.

  My smile fades. So does my hope. That’s why he was asking about my phone. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t recording anything.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” I tell him. “Just let me finish my work—or let me go, but don’t tell Mary I stole something when I didn’t.”

  “You’re not going to be a team player?”

  “Please.” I’m desperate now. “I can’t screw this up.”

  “Too late. I hate having to go to your probation officer on this.” He pulls out his cell. “Maybe we should see what she has to say about the homeowners’ complaint.”

  “No! Wait! I’m thinking!” But it’s too late. He’s already dialing Mary.

  Chapter Five

  Kevin uses the FaceTime app, and Mary’s face takes the screen. “Got a problem here,” he says. “Javvan.”

  “Javvan? I was just talking to his mother. She’s so pleased with how things are working out. You’re sure you’re having trouble with him?”

  “Yeah.”

  I brace for it. The smug look on her face. The superior lift of her mouth. My heart’s going to crash through my chest. But in the back of my mind, I’m still hoping
this will all be a prank.

  “Give him the phone,” she says.

  I take the cell from Kevin with shaking fingers and sit back down. I’m too freaked to say anything.

  “Didn’t we talk about your parents? About this being your big chance to change? About how great the last few weeks have been for you?”

  I nod. A sliver of…defiance? desperation?…creeps into my mind. She’s already lecturing me, and she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “It’s not that. You don’t understand.”

  “I understand he’s given you a chance,” she says. “An opportunity.”

  “Look.” I don’t want to do this in front of Kevin. “Can’t I come by after work? Talk then?”

  She snorts. “You think if you’re not doing as he asks, you’re going to have an after work?”

  I lean in and whisper, “You really don’t understand.”

  “I understand your fingerprints were on the desk drawer.”

  Her words freeze me.

  “I understand he’s willing to back up your claim of innocence.” She pauses. “If you give him equal support.”

  She knows. Oh my god. She knows. This makes no sense. He phoned her before talking to me?

  “Javvan. You want to do right by your parents. You’re trying so hard to make amends and show the courts you’re not a bad kid. Why would you screw it up now? Do you have any idea what the judge will say—will do—if I go to him with the theft? And turning on Kevin like that. He’s got a great reputation with the justice system. Everyone respects how hard he tries to give troubled kids a second chance.”

  She sighs. “You try to break the law and screw up. You try to go straight and screw up.”

  “But I’m trying to be good, to do right.”

  “Exactly,” she says. “Which is why you should listen to him.” There’s a pause that holds weight. “And do what he says.”

  And it all falls into place. She’s part of this. That’s why she knows about the fingerprints.

  “You set me up.” The words come out flat. Her giving me Kevin’s number. Alphabet asking me to help him with the electrical work—all of it was to make sure I meant what I said about doing right. All of it a trap to make sure I was the perfect mark. God, it’s Dwayne all over again.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she says. “I tossed you Kevin’s way because he’d lost one of his crew.” Her smile is almost feral. “Recidivism. Such a terrible thing. He needed a body, and you were one. We knew you wouldn’t do anything for us.”

  Kevin nods.

  “I’ve known Kevin a long time,” she continues. “You could say we’re partners in a lot of things. Our dedication to youth at risk, our love of good steak dinner, an appreciation of how expensive a good steak dinner can be. We also know who our guys are. You’re not one of us, and if you hadn’t walked in on Alphabet, you’d never have known about the side business.” She pauses. “Businesses. Put him on the second crew.”

  All I can see is a pinprick of light. Everything else has flashed to black. “Second crew?”

  “North Americans have so much stuff,” says Kevin. “Sometimes it can be such a burden. We help lift those heavy weights.”

  I listen to the message between his words. Stealing. They’re not just messing with the homes. They’re stealing from people as well. But I’ve never heard about any of this in the news. A scam this complicated would take work, organization.

  Mary seems to read my mind because she says, “Lots of my colleagues also feel the same way. Not just the probation officers, but social workers, lawyers, even a couple of judges.” She smirks.

  I’m glad I’m sitting, because there’s no strength in my legs. I get what Mary’s saying. It’s not just her and Kevin running the ring. The members are all through the justice system. I think about Andrea. Is she in on this?

  “Do you understand what I’m saying? Just nod if you do.”

  Nod if I do. I’m trapped. Keep my mouth shut, let him scam homeowners and help him steal, or she reports that I’ve failed to comply with the conditions of my probation order. Go to another cop or caseworker and tell them what happened and run the risk that they’re working with Kevin and Mary. And I still get reported.

  “Kevin,” says Mary, “he may need the day to think it through.”

  He takes the phone from my weak fingers. “Don’t worry,” he says as he shuts down the call. “She’s so impatient. You can take the next week.” He smiles. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. You’ll come on board. They all do eventually.”

  I hate that smile. That smile made me trust him. And why give me the week to think it over? I answer the question as soon as it enters my mind. Because he likes the power. Because he’s going to enjoy watching me twist for the next seven days.

  “As long as you work for me and stay loyal, you’re safe. I’m as loyal as you are, and I’ll protect you. And I don’t want you to be afraid that someone might start talking to you about the arrangement and put you in a delicate situation. I have eyes and ears everywhere. If anyone tried to jam you up, I’d know.”

  I catch the threat not so subtly hidden in the declaration of protection. If I try to talk to anyone, he’ll know.

  “Go on, get to work,” he says. “Alphabet will be wondering where you are.”

  I stand on shaky legs, replaying the last twenty minutes in my head. Trying to figure out how the day went from awesome to awful in a blink.

  Chapter Six

  The day goes by in a blur. I can’t focus, can’t concentrate. But at the same time, everything is too slow, like a movie played on mega slow motion. The worst part is having to go for the usual Friday-night dinner. All the guys are laughing and having a good time. I’m trying to keep my food—and my contempt—down. By the time I get home, I’m exhausted. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. And I’m terrified. I can’t see a way out of this.

  I drag myself through the door and give Sammy a halfhearted wave. Mom comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a plaid dishtowel. She gives me a smile, and I can barely return it.

  Ever since I got the job, my mother has looked different. Her face is brighter, smoother. It used to be I’d hear her pacing late at night. Lately, there have been no sounds of boards creaking.

  My brother, cousins and I always joke that there’s one big difference between Indian families and other families. In an Indian family, you can be anything you want to be. Any kind of lawyer. Any kind of doctor. Any kind of accountant. My having a record is screwing up the family dream. My getting a job has shown Mom things will get better, that I’ll get through this.

  The idea of telling her I’m being screwed by my probation officer and my boss takes my strength. I can’t break her heart. I just can’t do it. I can’t bring more trouble and uncertainty to the family.

  “Javvan, you’re home! Guess what Sammy did in the kitchen?”

  “Gross, dude,” I say to my brother. “You’re supposed to do that kind of thing in the bathroom.”

  He rolls his eyes and punches me in the arm.

  I rub my bicep. “Okay, okay! What did you do?”

  “I helped Mom make you some mango kulfi.”

  My favorite dessert. If I had any desire to tell my mother something, it disappears. I glance over at my dad. For a second I debate going to him. But he’s hiding behind the newspaper, ignoring me. Telling him would just confirm I’m nothing but trouble.

  I go into the kitchen, swallow the creamy dessert. It may as well be cardboard for all I’m tasting. As soon as I can, I escape to my bedroom. I don’t bother changing. I just lie there in the dark.

  A couple of minutes later, Sammy comes in. “So, what time are we going tomorrow?”

  “Going where?”

  “To the Vanishing Rabbit.”

  I frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “The magic shop. You said you’d take me.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I doubt it. I can’t stand you. Why would I want to do anything
like spend time with you?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Be serious.”

  “I am. You’re old enough to know the truth now. I tried to sell you to the neighbors.”

  For a second, his eyes light up. “Which ones? Liana’s parents?”

  I flick his ear. “Rein it in, Casanova. If I’d sold you to them, you and Liana would be brother and sister. You couldn’t date her.” I lean back. “Naw, I tried to sell you to the Olsens.”

  “Gross.” His face screws up. “They’re so weird. I’d rather have Liana as a sister than grow up with them.”

  “That’s kind of what the Olsens said too. The idea of having to live with you—you know that’s why they go away every summer, right? They’re afraid Mom will ask them to babysit you.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I think we should get to the magic store early.”

  “Fine,” I fake grumble. “If I say no, you’ll just cry and you look horrible when you do.”

  “I’m your favorite brother,” he says. “You like doing these things with me.”

  “You’re my only brother,” I shoot back as he heads for the door. “I figure being nice to you will get me the bigger inheritance when Mom and Dad die.”

  “Hey.” He turns. “What did you think of my dessert?”

  “Tasted great,” I lie. “You make it better than Mom does.”

  “Don’t tell her that. Think it’s good enough for a job?”

  “A job?”

  “A backup for when I’m done being a magician. I thought I’d open a restaurant. I don’t have a name for it yet.”

  I shake my head. “You’re so weird.”

  “Sorry, dude. That would make a terrible restaurant name.”

  “And to think you’ll get half the estate.”

  “You’re just jealous because you wish you could be like me.”

  He doesn’t know the half of it. I’d love to play magician and make my problems disappear.

  Sammy studies me for a minute. “You okay? You seem strange. Well, stranger than usual.”