The Game of Love and Death(60)

Behind her, the bells of fire engines clanged, not that they would be able to do anything but keep the fire from spreading. Flora’s shoulders heaved. Next door, the Miyashitos were frantically pouring buckets of water on their business. They cried out to each other in Japanese, and she felt even worse. It would be everything they had too.

A police car was parked across the street. When the officers inside saw Flora approach, they stepped out. One held a sheet of paper in his hand.

“You’re the owner of this establishment?” the officer asked.

Flora nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He handed her the paper. “Seems a shame to deliver this right now, but I’m legally required to.”

Flora scanned the document. An order from the city, shutting the club down on corruption charges. A flake of ash settled on Flora’s cheek, but she ignored the sudden prick of pain. She turned away from the police officer, crumpled the paper into a ball, and hurled it into the fire.

Words echoed in her mind, in a familiar voice she could not quite place.

Someday, everyone you love will die. Everything you love will crumble to ruin. This is the price of life. This is the price of love.

Someday had arrived.





MR. Thorne’s mouth twitched as he sat behind his desk and ticked off the many ways Henry had failed.

“You stole Ethan’s car —”

“I would have lent it to him,” Ethan said.

“Don’t interrupt. You stole the car, you left school during a day you had a final examination to take, you fraternized with … with … a colored nightclub performer, whom you then had cousin Helen bail out of jail, exposing her to Lord knows what kind of seaminess.”

Henry blanched. He hadn’t expected the Thornes to discover all that; Helen’s betrayal there surprised and wounded him. It was possible, he realized, that this was her retaliation for his choosing Flora over her. The rest of the accusation — that Helen was the fragile type who could be harmed by helping out someone their age — was nonsense. But Henry kept his mouth shut.

“Does that about sum it up?” Mr. Thorne said. “Or are there more things you’d like to disclose?”

He glanced at Ethan. Henry interpreted the pleading look on his face as a request to say nothing about visiting Hooverville or socializing with James afterward. And Henry was certainly not going to confess how much time he’d spent at the Domino, or how far his grades had fallen.

“I believe that sums it up, sir.”

Mr. Thorne’s mouth twitched again. He pressed his hands against his desk and stood. His bulk blocked much of the light from the window, and his shadow crossed Henry’s face as if it were a thing of substance. “You’ve put me in a terrible spot. A terrible spot.”

“I know.” Henry’s voice hardly felt like his own.

“Do you? Do you know how it feels to have someone you’ve raised — almost as a son — commit an act of violence against a man whose job it is to uphold the law?”

“But he’d framed —”

“Don’t even say her name. I don’t want to hear another word about her. Please tell me there hasn’t been any” — he waved his hand dismissively — “congress.”

“No,” Henry whispered, mortified even to be talking about such things in front of other people.

“Small blessings. It means this isn’t a permanent disaster.” Mr. Thorne lowered himself into his chair again, rubbing his hand along his bare scalp as he leaned back. “The newspaper will have to cover the attack and the arrest. Because you’re under eighteen, you’re not an adult. Your name won’t be used. But your link to my family will be disclosed. Journalistic ethics require it. It’s an embarrassment, an enormous embarrassment.”

Henry swallowed. He’d considered this already and it only made him feel worse to hear Mr. Thorne spell it all out.

“And it goes without saying that you will not graduate with your class. We spoke with them already. They told us about your plummeting grades, and with today’s escapade, you’ve been expelled.”

Henry felt ill.

“And you have lost your scholarship to the university.” Mr. Thorne leaned forward again on his elbows. “Obviously.”

The scholarship was his future, or it had been. And now that was gone. The loss horrified him, but in a way, he felt like he’d been expecting such a thing his entire life. As hard as he’d tried to make himself useful, to follow the rules, to earn his place, a part of him knew he was an impostor in this world. A part of him was always waiting to be cast out.

But he knew this too: There was a future he’d rather have. One he’d always wanted more. And that was one with the possibility of love.

“Father —” Ethan put his hands on the desk, pleading.

Mr. Thorne spun toward him, his index finger raised. “Not a word out of you, Ethan. So far, you seem blameless, but you don’t want to provoke me to dig below the surface and become aware of any shenanigans on your part, do you?”

“No, sir.” Ethan stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Out of consideration for the friendship I had with your father, and the pleasure I’ve had seeing you grow up under my roof, I’m not going to cast you out entirely,” Mr. Thorne said. He pulled a cigar out of the humidor and lit it, exhaling a stream of blue smoke. “You may have a job, if you’d like, working on the press crew.” He paused. “But you’ll have to find another place to live. It won’t do to have you here, particularly not with someone vulnerable like Helen being put at risk by your behavior and associates. And then there are Ethan and Annabel to consider. They have their own reputations that need protection.”