Chapter 22

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

By mid-week, Anthony was no closer to any of his goals. No job interviews, which meant no money, which meant no car. He’d jumped through the various hoops and been reminded that it takes time to rebuild. He’d been for several runs and hadn’t run into Liam, which now bothered him more than receiving the letter.

There were two positives, though. The first that he was seeing Cillian for lunch tomorrow, and the second, that Margot had offered to take him out for the evening. She had season tickets to the ballet—the same one Cillian was playing for.

He’d never minded watching men in tights leap athletically across the stage, so sitting in a dark theater with a glass of wine while he did so wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening. Though worrying about running into people he knew from before had almost made him decline the invitation. But he didn’t want fear to hold him back, and, more importantly, he wanted to hear Cillian play.

Which was why he was wearing one of his too-tight around the shoulders suits with a smile fixed to his face, affecting the look of someone having a great time, not sweating and waiting for the doors to open. Inside would be the embrace of cool darkness, and the spotlight would be on someone else.

Margot chatted with a few friends while he flicked through the program, hoping no one recognized him. The ushers opened the doors, and everyone started lining up to go in. Anthony sighed with relief, but before he had the chance to join the queue, a man approached, eyebrows drawn together as if he wasn’t sure that he recognized Anthony.

Oh god, not now.

There was no escape.

The man stuck out his hand. “Anthony? I’m a friend of Rafe’s. Frank Farring.”

Anthony kept his smile fixed in place. He didn’t remember the name, but Rafe had lots of friends Anthony didn’t know or want to know. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m afraid Rafe isn’t here.”

And he couldn’t contact him.

“I’m aware, but I wanted to give you my card. I assume you’re looking for work?”

“Yes, but I’m no longer doing that kind of… business,” he said carefully. By that, he meant finance and drugs. Because this was Rafe’s friend who could be involved with either, and there were too many people watching and listening. Margot was on the other side of the queue, waiting for him to finish talking.

No doubt she’d have questions later.

“What is it you do now?” Farring asked.

“Librarian, document control, and such.” He took a gulp of wine.

Farring considered him for a couple of seconds. “But you still remember the ins and out of a deal… Officially, you could be a librarian.” He held out his card. “Give me a call so we can talk.”

Like fuck. The business card might be plain white, but the warning was flashing bright red, and the siren could be heard three blocks away. It didn’t matter if it was a legitimate business or illegal. He did not want to be entangled in another mess because if things went south, the blame would be squarely pinned on the man with the criminal record.

“Thank you.” He slipped the card into his pocket and joined Margot, feeling as though he’d just done a ten-kilometer run in the middle of a forty-degree day. His heart pounded, and his shirt was glued to his back.

“Who was that?”

“A friend of a friend.” He finished his wine. “I’m going to grab some water. Would you like one?”

“I’m fine. Be quick.”

The walk to the bar helped him calm down. “Can I get a water? And some ice?”

The bartender cracked open the bottle of water and gave him a glass half full of ice. He didn’t need that much. He tipped one cube into his palm, holding it as he walked back to Margot.

The pain of the cold cut through every other thought, and when Margot turned to present the tickets to the usher, Anthony put the ice in his mouth, crunching through it and longing for lights out.