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There’s a moment of quiet again, this time as if no one is sure if he’s made a bad joke.
“In high school,” Jake continues, “I was president of the Best Buddies club. It’s an after-school club that matched kids with IDD with peers who didn’t have those struggles.”
“Aww,” Dena says.
“I’d work at a gallery,” Divya joins in. “I was an art history major. But I plan to use my law degree to help recover art stolen blood antiquities.”
“Easy,” Eddie chimes in. “Video game designer.”
Aiden says, “I don’t know. I can write code, but hate it. Maybe I’d be an environmentalist. Some fucked-up shit going on in the world.”
Dena would run an NGO; Diana would be a veterinarian.
In the ambient light, Ryan has a revelation that should’ve been obvious. Or maybe not. These classmates—these friends—are more than the sum of their cultivated social-media personas, more than the roles they play, more than the stereotypes. They’re like him. Trying to find their way. Trying to find out who they are. They party too much—are maybe too privileged—but they want to make the world kinder, better.
The group never turns to Nora or Ryan for their answers. Maybe because they know that Nora was born to be a lawyer. As for Ryan, well, maybe they’ve just come to expect him keeping things close to the vest, not giving any real insights into himself. Which is fair.
But in this moment, he decides he’s not going to run from himself anymore, not going to be afraid anymore.
Tomorrow morning, he will confront The Monster.
21
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
“That was a great meal,” Shane O’Leary says to his wife as he zips through the streets of Philadelphia in his Mercedes. They get treated like royalty whenever they dine at Del Frisco’s. Even after all these years, he still likes to impress Gina.
“I’m stuffed,” she groans.
“Hopefully not too stuffed…” O’Leary cocks a brow.
“We’ll see.…”
He approaches the front checkpoint to their estate. He clicks the opener and the iron gate creaks to life. He’s got no security detail at the house. Nobody is fool enough to mess with O’Leary, much less his family. But he’s gotten word that the Sabatino crew isn’t too pleased that one of their lieutenants is rumored to be wearing concrete shoes—a rumor O’Leary himself started—so maybe he should have a couple guys stationed at the place tomorrow. There’s an unwritten rule that you don’t go after family, but the Sabatinos have shown that they’re willing to test boundaries.
“What time does Anthony get home from karate practice?” O’Leary asks. If he’s gonna jump her bones, he knows he’d better do it before she’s distracted by their son.
“Nate’s mom is picking up tonight. She usually takes them for ice cream after, so you’ve got about, I don’t know, a half hour.”
“Plenty of time.” He flashes a smile.
He pulls onto the circle drive in front of the house, and races around the sedan to open Gina’s door. She starts to step out when a shot rings out.
O’Leary pushes her back in the car, shuts the door, then crouch-runs to the other side of the sedan. He opens the driver’s side door, reaches under the seat for his gun. Gina’s eyes are wide with fear.
“It’s gonna be okay. Call Chaz. And stay inside the car. This thing can take a hit from a grenade launcher.” He had the sedan fitted with bullet-resistant glass and Kevlar panels.
“Don’t go, wait with me, don’t—”
But O’Leary’s already slammed the door and is racing to the side of the house. No one comes after him in his own home. No one takes a shot near his girl.
He heads to the back, mounts the steps to the patio, ducking behind the outdoor fireplace. He checks his ammo. He has four in the magazine, one in the chamber. Five shots. He won’t need more.
He runs to the large French doors, staying low. The doors are covered with blinds, but there’s a small opening in a window nearby. He crawls over, raises his head quickly, looks inside. He doesn’t see anyone. But the shot came from the front of the house… he knows it. It was faint like the shooter was inside.
On his phone, he pulls up his security system. He has a camera in all the main rooms.
Nothing.