Lucky(68)

Now, exactly on time, Lucky walked into the restaurant and sat alone. Priscilla was late, by ten minutes, then twenty. Lucky became sure she wasn’t going to show up.

But finally, Priscilla walked in. She wasn’t alone. Nico, the guard from Priscilla’s Place, was with her.

“Hello,” Lucky said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Fuck the pleasantries, Lucky. Tell me what I want to know.”

“Give me back my lottery ticket.”

“Tell me everything or I’ll have Nico here shoot you in the head.”

“We’re in public. I don’t think Nico is going to shoot me in the middle of a restaurant. Give me back the lottery ticket you stole from me.”

“I didn’t steal it from you, I stole it from that idiot Gloria.”

“Who got it from me. And I want it back. If I give you the information about the money, I’m going to need that ticket. I know where it is, the money Cary owes you. And I know where he is, too. He’s not dead.”

“Where is the money?”

“That’s what you care about? No ‘Oh, my son is alive, thank God!’ Where did you even get all that money? Why did Cary have it?”

“Are you stupid? He was cleaning it for me. Until he betrayed me. Now, I don’t really care what happens to him, but I need that money. Or you’re dead, I’m dead, we’re all dead.”

“Give me my ticket. I won’t tell you where he is if you don’t. I’ll walk out of here.”

“And I’ll have you killed.”

“You would do that? While I’m carrying your grandchild? Would you really do that, for money?”

“It’s a lot of money, Lucky. I told you back in Fresno, I care about the child—but my own survival is what matters most to me.”

“How much money is it?”

“Tens of millions. It wasn’t just the restaurant. Cary was laundering some of it through your business, you just didn’t know it.”

“Who was it being laundered for?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

Lucky wished she had a piece of paper in front of her this time, like she’d had on the phone with Cary. She was struggling to remember exactly what she was supposed to say, worrying she wasn’t getting it right. “The thing is, Cary lost some of the money.”

“What do you mean, lost some of it?”

“The money he was laundering for you,” Lucky said, heart pounding. This was what they had practiced at the police station. “He had developed a betting habit. He gambled some of it away. Online. He started to get scared. He admitted that to me when I found him. He’s in a rehab facility in Vegas. He was badly beaten, but he survived.”

“This is bullshit! You’re making this up!”

“Priscilla, I think we need to start working together. I need to build a life for myself and my child. Your son is a cheat, and a liar. Cary betrayed me, he betrayed you, he betrayed both of us. Give me the lottery ticket, and I’ll give you the banking information you need to get the money back, plus I’ll wire you the money Cary lost from my funds. And I’ll tell you where he is. We need to start trusting each other. You can’t possibly know how much I hate Cary. How badly I want him to pay for putting me in this position.”

“Oh, I do,” Priscilla said. “I understand completely.”

“Just give me the ticket you stole.”

Priscilla sat still, thinking. And Lucky knew exactly what she was thinking as she reached for the large handbag beside her on the padded bench: Priscilla was thinking she would give Lucky the ticket, yes. And then Lucky would tell her everything she wanted to know. And then Priscilla and Nico would follow her, and shoot her in some alley somewhere, and take the ticket back again.

“Here you go,” Priscilla said, removing a mini-safe from her bag, typing in a combination, then taking the lottery ticket out and handing it across the table to Lucky. “Now tell me where the money is. And exactly where Cary is.” She slid her phone over. “You can call him from this phone. It’s a blocked number. Put him on speaker. I want confirmation that he is indeed alive before you walk out of here.”

Lucky looked down at the ticket. It was hers. She recognized it immediately: the numbers, and every little mark, every little rip, all the evidence of the journey she had taken with it. That journey was not over. She slipped the ticket into her pocket.

“So? Where’s the money?” Priscilla demanded.

“I have no idea,” Lucky said. “Turns out we’re exactly alike. Both stone-cold liars who will do anything to get what they want.” She stood. “Also, I’m not pregnant. I lost the baby, before we left Boise. And I’m sad about it, of course.” This next part was hard, because it wasn’t true; she had wanted her baby, and missed it still: the idea, the dream. Like a golden ticket. “But frankly, I’m also relieved I don’t have to carry your son’s child. Be the mother of the grandchild of a woman like you. You are not the kind of woman who should have progeny.”

“You little bitch. You think we’re going to let you go? You’re dead. No matter where you go, we’ll follow you; no matter what you do, we will know what it is. You’ll be dead by the end of today.”

“Are you threatening me?”