Madly (New York 2)

“Allie.” He finally sat up and looked at her. “I did something today, not strictly on the up and up, but not against the rules, either. There isn’t anything that says that I shouldn’t…check on a client. Particularly if I have any reason to worry about his portfolio. A woman identifying herself as his daughter would be a good reason to look. Of course. Entirely correct.”

“What is it?” She felt queasy, all the syrupy kissing energy dissolved.

“I found something, or my assistant did. It’s best if I don’t tell you how I found it, but it isn’t important at any rate—what’s important is that what I found, what my assistant, Chasity, found, led to our finding out something else that might actually help.”

Normally, she found his roundabout way of explaining things adorable. Not so much, at the moment. “Tell me. Please.”

“Justice is planning something very big. Someone we have reason to believe is his associate has purchased permits to use the Brooklyn Bridge—the kind of permits you need to redirect traffic, and for filming, and to pay for additional police.”

“So he’s doing some kind of art thing on the bridge.”

“One of his pop-up installations, we believe. Chasity had to dig around quite a bit to learn about the permits. He didn’t go through a standard process to get them. He has help keeping this secret, and he’s got a four-day window to hold his event. Starting tomorrow.”

“So we know he’s doing something at the bridge sometime in the next four days.”

It was nice of Winston to try to help. She didn’t want him to know she felt deflated. What was she supposed to do, camp out with a lawn chair? Picket Justice’s art thing with a sign that read: GIVE ME BACK MY MOM.

She felt herself floating up out of her body, distressed, headachy, and sick.

Winston grabbed her hand. “Stay with me, Allie. It’s not quite so open-ended as that, and I need you to understand everything Chasity figured out.”

She held his hand, hard.

“I know Justice, which is an advantage. Chasity had to work to find out this information, but the point is, it was findable. This much planning, this big of an event, it can’t actually stay quiet, and this is the point. As private and enigmatic as Justice is, remember that it is a persona, that Justice is as important to his art as his art is to Justice. He knew there would start to be leaks as soon as he filed this paperwork, and he needs those leaks. It’s no good to have a truly surprise pop-up event on the Brooklyn Bridge—then it would only be you, instead of you and thousands of friends.”

What he said meant she could breathe a little. He was probably very good at this money guy thing. His sensible demeanor and bland approach reminded Allie of Elvira when she was explaining to her why she should spend some extremely large amount of money on something.

“But how do we make sense of the leaks? There’s going to be all kinds of rumors. I mean, I’m no stranger to gossip. The way people talk, you’d think I was the first runaway bride Manitowoc ever had. But this is New York City. Eight million people’s worth of gossip.”

Winston smiled. “Chasity pointed out I have a pretty good mole—Bea, my daughter. She’s a film student, and she hangs out with artists and others who are very interested in Justice, and are…connected.”

She started to ask what he meant, but he finished before she could say anything. “Social media. They’ll be on top of the leaks. The fact of it is that Beatrice will be quite glad to hear I’m helping you. We had a terrible row about it. Possibly it’s why I asked for Chasity’s help.”

Allie was having a hard time staying present, keeping her eyes on Winston’s face and thinking. She desperately wanted to get to her phone, text her mother again, run to her dad for help, get May drunk and tell her everything. She’d come here on a wing and a prayer, her whole plan not to think, just to act, but that kind of strategy would only stretch so far and she was flying apart at the seams now, with no idea what to do next.

“There’s something else that may be more difficult.” His voice had found an even gentler, blander register, and Allie thought she might actually scream.

“We didn’t see it this morning, because the information was on a different part of his accounts than we were looking at, but Justice transferred some money recently, and this is entirely confidential, though honestly I’ll have to accept whatever consequences there may be at this point.”

“Transferred it where? To…who?” Allie gave up and slid off the sofa far enough to grab her bag and yank out her phone. She thumbed out the twentieth message she’d typed in the last two days to her mom.

I know you’re with Justin, my birth dad. I know you’re in the city. Call me, Mom. Please.

It slipped into the messages screen and landed with delivered. She would pay any amount of money, do anything, for that delivered to transform into read.

She stared at the message. Winston started talking again.

“It was a forty-three-thousand-dollar transfer to Harry Winston.”

It took her a minute to put it together. Harry Winston. Jewelry. Infidelity, a bauble or engagement ring, even.

Impending divorce.

It only took her a few seconds after that to clamber back up onto the sofa and into his arms.

She had forgotten, even from yesterday, how good at hugging he was. His fancy shirt was really good at cooling her hot cheeks, also, as she swallowed and swallowed to keep herself from giving up.

“I want to go home,” she finally managed.