The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(39)

“All right, trouble,” he says with a laugh, “we need a plan. There will be a least a few people at the bar who’ll recognize you,” he says. “How do you want to play that?’

I look uncertainly at the building, adrenaline rushing through my system. I’ve done some crazy things before, mostly with Deacon, but never on assignment. Not when I’m supposed to be professional. Doubt sinks in.

“Is this unethical?” I ask. The light from the streetlamp falls across Deacon’s face, clouding his expression with shadows.

“Sometimes the ends justify the means,” he says solemnly. “And those times, we have to be the ones to decide what’s worth losing.” His voice is far more serious than I expected, and I can’t help but think there’s more behind it. “Is it worth your sister losing her privacy?”

I sit back, thinking over the question. Ultimately, this isn’t just about Angie. It has larger implications for the entire family. “I think so,” I say, looking at Deacon. He presses his lips into a sad smile.

“Then we go inside.”

Deacon doesn’t think this is a good idea, but like me, he understands it. The most troubling part about tonight is that if I see something concerning, something I can’t ignore, I’ll have to report it. I’ll have to flag Angie for the therapists. I’m not sure I’d want someone watching me that closely in my real life.

Both Deacon and I get out of the car, and the night is cold on my face. I zip up my hoodie a little higher, shivering. My nerves are frayed, and Deacon comes around the car and meets me to walk across the parking lot toward the building.

Deacon has a fake ID, but I’m relying on the bouncer being “golden” like the e-mail said. I hope he doesn’t know that I’m dead. We walk through the drizzle, and I pull my hood over my hair. Deacon takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, and when I look at him questioningly, he shrugs as if saying, What? Friends can hold hands. I snort a laugh, and turn away to focus on the mission.

We weave through the crowd, and I’m careful to scan their faces in search of my sister without being obvious. No one pays attention to us, and I’m grateful. But that’s a skill we’ve learned over the years, how to blend in. How to hold ourselves in a way that doesn’t bring attention to our features. It comes in handy when trying to assume the identities of other people.

Deacon stops in front of me, dropping my hand, and I lower my hood now that we’re under the awning. Smoke drifts over from the group behind us, and I swallow hard and watch Deacon flash his ID, looking past the bouncer into the bar. The guy checks it quickly, not paying attention because Deacon’s mannerisms are confident, older. The bouncer waves him in and turns to me. Deacon goes to wait just inside the door, but I’m scared. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I got turned away, but it would be the end of tonight’s adventure.

I hold out the ID I took from the wallet on my desk, which reads Catalina Barnes and identifies me as completely underage. The bouncer looks at the picture, and then at me. He winks. “Tell Isaac he owes me,” he says, and nods me through. I tense at the mention of my boyfriend’s name, but smile as though I’m not the least bit fazed.

“I will,” I say, touching the bouncer’s arm, and glide past him to meet Deacon in the doorway. When I look sideways at him, Deacon’s face is a little colder and his eyes scan the crowd inside. I have a slight twinge of guilt but then remind myself I haven’t done anything wrong. Any jealousy he may have is totally on him.

“We should grab a spot in the corner. The light’s not hitting it.” He motions to an empty space near the bar that’s almost completely lost in darkness. I agree, and we walk toward it, my eyes trained on every face, flipping from one smiling or scowling expression to another. The bar is packed; in the back room a band is setting up their equipment on the stage, and people have already flocked to take their positions in the crowd in front of them.

Zigzagging through the people proves difficult, and I lose Deacon at one point since I’m not tall enough to see over the shoulders of the guys in front of me. By the time I make it to the corner, Deacon has already taken off his sweater, and he’s resting casually against the wall.

“Was about to send out a search party,” he says, smiling now that we’re alone in the crowded room. I unzip my hoodie; the air is warm from all the bodies packed together. Deacon looks past me. “This is going to be a little more difficult than you thought, isn’t it?”

I take up space next to him on the wall and check over the crowd. “Definitely didn’t expect it to be this busy.”

“It’s a good band tonight,” Deacon says, taking out his phone and checking for messages. “And this place never charges a cover, so they pack them in. Hey, do you want a drink?” he asks.

“No,” I say shaking my head. “I need to stay clear.” I continue checking the crowd, worried that my sister may not have come here at all.

“You know,” Deacon says, not looking at me, “if she’s not here, we could just hang. Dance, even.” I watch him a minute, trying to guess his intentions, but he’s unreadable. Although a night out, a normal night out, sounds amazing right now, it’s not my reality. I don’t belong here with Deacon—I’m breaking character.

“Not tonight,” I say quietly, and turn away. There’s a sting, that familiar ache I get when I know I’ve hurt his feelings. But I chalk it up to the pinch of a needle when you get an inoculation. It hurts for a moment, but it prevents a much bigger problem down the line. Deacon shifts next to me but doesn’t say anything else. He slides his phone back into his pocket and asks me to describe my sister once again.