Double or Nothing Page 6

  “Well, you never know. I read an article a while back about common coins that are actually valuable. I searched through all my loose change, and I had nothing good. But who knows? Might be worth checking out.”

  Come to think of it, that pawnshop guy was kind of interested. I have an idea.

  “Maybe you could help me?” I ask.

  “Sure, babe. Anything.”

  I hand over the coin, my hand shaking. “If you can sell it, do. And give the money to my dad.” I have been kidding myself about its sentimental value. I need to start making some changes.

  “And if it’s worthless?” he asks.

  “Throw it off a goddamned bridge or something.”

  He leans in to give me a sweet kiss on the forehead. “I’ll toss it off the highest bridge I can find, babe.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  At the police station, I wait in an interview room while Mom and Dad process Aggie’s release. After a while my parents come back, along with Detective Crowley and a very tired-looking lawyer named Ms. Scott.

  Dad’s anger is still palpable. “Ester, let’s talk,” he says.

  Everyone sits around a conference table and listens while I tell my story. Ms. Scott records everything and takes notes (after advising me that I don’t have to talk at all). It feels better to get it all out in the open. Besides, the truth will set Agatha free. Literally. My parents listen, bewildered.

  Once I’m done, Ms. Scott thanks me. “I think I have enough to convince my boss not to lay charges against Agatha,” she says. “But there are going to be some conditions.”

  “Such as?” Dad asks.

  “Ester is going to have to commit to cooperating with the police on this investigation, and she’ll have to agree to counseling. In-patient rehab. Ninety-day minimum.”

  “That’s okay,” I say. “I’ll do anything to help Agatha.”

  “Good,” says Ms. Scott. “Detective?”

  “Thank you. Here’s what’s going to happen next,” says Detective Crowley. “Agatha will be set free once a judge signs off, but she will need to stay in the area. She will even have to go to classes. It needs to seem like everything is normal.”

  “And me?” I ask.

  “You’ll work with us on our sting to take down the drug and gambling ring. Once our operation is done, you’ll head off to rehab.”

  “You mean to tell me that you’re planning to put my child in harm’s way?” Dad is barely holding it together.

  “Yes,” Detective Crowley says. “Let’s face it. She was already doing a good job of that all on her own.” She sighs. “Look, it sounds worse than it is. Ester will be safe. We just need her to make a buy from her contacts at the club so we can get it on tape. That’s all. Ester can do this. She’s been there before.”

  “Dad,” I say. “I can do this. For Aggie.”

  “I don’t like it,” he says. “What if we say no?”

  “Then you roll the dice with the court,” says Ms. Scott. “It sounds harsh, and it is, but that’s the deal.”

  “I’ll do it,” I say. “Where do I sign?”

  After going through all the processing and paperwork, my parents are finally allowed to take me back to a cheap motel just outside of town, where the cops have put us all up.

  Mom and Dad had to sign scary documents saying they would not leave me alone, not even for a minute. So it’s just me and them and their intense disappointment, trapped in a room while the police set up the sting.

  Mom does what she does best—arranging food for us to eat from the nearby diner. Dad and I sit on the ugly beds and watch TV. Dad flips through the channels and lands on Wheel of Fortune. Then he quickly clicks it off.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “Pat Sajak’s not going to trigger me to gamble.”

  “This is not a joking matter,” he snaps.

  I don’t reply. He’s right.

  He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This is all my fault.”

  “This is not your fault, Dad!”

  “I’m a parent. Of course it’s my fault,” he says. “And I think you got your addiction from me.”

  “What are you talking about? You don’t gamble.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t drink either,” he says. “Because I’m an alcoholic.”

  What? How have I not known this? “I just thought you didn’t like the taste of alcohol.”

  “Nope,” he says. “I love it.”

  “But…”

  “Ester, I have been sober since the day you were born. You know why? I was drunk when your mom went into labor with you two. I was completely useless to her. I wasn’t there. I didn’t even hold you until you were a few days old.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Because your mom is a saint,” he says.

  We sit in silence for a minute, the whir of the motel heating system the only sound.

  “I want you to understand that people can do bad things, and make bad choices, but they can come back from it,” he says. “I don’t want you to use this low point as an excuse to harm yourself even more.”

  “I guess you do know something about it, huh?” I say, feeling understood for the first time.

  “You have to get off this merry-go-round,” he says.

  “But,” I say, “how do you get excited about life then? Aren’t you bored all the time?”

  “Bored? You mean with my comfortable life, being alive and having two amazing kids and a wife who’s a better cook than Martha Stewart?”

  I laugh.

  “Yeah, real boring,” he says.

  Mom opens the door and sees us sitting there. Her arms are full of takeout containers. “Let’s see how good this diner’s chicken parmesan really is, shall we?” she says.

  “There’s no way it’s better than yours, Mom,” I say, getting up to take the containers from her.

  Not a chance.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dillon calls. He’s got an update on my coin. I can’t tell him where I am, so I arrange for him to drop off a letter to Detective Crowley at the station. She delivers it when she comes to brief us on the next steps.

  I take it to the bathroom to read it. When I open the envelope there is a cashier’s check inside for $8,000. Oh my god.

  It’s made out to Ralph Tomasi, which is a relief. I nearly pass out from the irony of having had this coin in my pocket the whole time.

  Dillon really came through. He could have taken that money for himself and split. Of course, he didn’t. He includes a note.

  Babe,

  Your UNlucky coin wasn’t worthless after all! It was a 1970-S Proof Washington quarter, as you know. But it was one of the better-quality ones. One of these suckers sold for almost 40 grand! Sorry yours wasn’t quite that good. Turns out that finding one is even more rare than getting hit by lightning. Or, even more rare than that, finding a brown-eyed girl who makes me feel the way you do.

  Yeah, I said it.

  Be safe,

  —D

  I walk out of the bathroom, trembling. I hand dad the check.

  “What is this?” he asks.

  “I sold the quarter Granddad gave me. With Dillon’s help.”

  I show him the note, and he reads it.

  “Good,” he says at last. “And this is a special guy you’ve found.”

  “I guess I can make some good decisions,” I say.

  Dad sighs and reaches for his wallet. He fishes something out of it. It’s a large brass token. He hands it to me.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the AA coin I got when I decided to get sober.”

  I look at it. It says, To Thine Own Self Be True. I laugh. “Hamlet again.”

  He looks at me, puzzled.

  “There’s this character in Hamlet,” I explain. “Polonius. And he’s always giving advice to his son. That’s one of his lines. ‘To thine own self be true.’ ”

  “It’s a good one,” Dad says.

  “Yeah. He also says,
‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be.’ ”

  “Hmm. Guess you should have paid more attention in English class, huh?” he asks.

  “Yeah, guess so.”

  “What you do now is what matters,” says Mom.

  “I hurt people, Mom. You and Dad. And Aggie. No matter what I do in my life, that’s the worst thing. When you’re a twin, it’s like you don’t have just one life. You have two.”

  Mom nods. “You could see that as a burden. Or you could see it as a gift.”

  Detective Crowley walks back in. “Hate to interrupt, but are you ready to do the hardest thing you’ve ever done?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  And I am. I will not let Aggie down.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aggie has been released, but I can’t see her yet. She has to resume her normal routine in case we’re being watched. I’ve got to play the part of a college student with a severe gambling addiction. Not a stretch.

  Once the police brief me on my mission—go to the club, try to buy drugs—I’m let loose into the big wide world. I’m “free,” only this time I’ve got a recording device under my clothes and a surveillance crew watching my every move.

  Mom and Dad are so worried they can’t even eat, which is saying something. But they understand this is what I have to do if Aggie and I have any shot at a future.

  So here I am, standing across the road from the club, late at night, while the wind blows through me. All I can think about is the card game that is probably happening just inside those doors. You know that term triggering? This is it, times a million.

  I have some cash the cops gave me that I’m supposed to give the gangsters as payment. It would be a lot easier without the wire. I’m so paranoid, I can’t think straight. It’s all coming together for my general look of strung-out chic.

  When I knock on the door, it’s Big Steve who answers. Relief floods through me. Even though he is creepy, he’s not that bright.

  “Well, look here,” he sneers. “Essssssssssie. I met your sister. She’s even cuter than you.”

  “Yeah,” I say. Ugh. So creepy.

  “You got the rest of our money?” Big Steve asks.

  “Most of it.”

  “Most?” His eyes narrow.

  “Aggie said that I could make up for it. You know, by helping you guys out.”

  “Where is your double anyway?” asks a voice, and John Jr. steps forward from the darkness. He’s been watching and listening. “I haven’t seen her around for a couple of days. I’m disappointed.”

  “Yeah, she’s busy. She’s going to a bunch of the frat parties this weekend. Big holiday event. Lots of opportunities to move the product.”

  John Jr. stares at me awhile. “Thought maybe she was going to rat,” he says finally.

  I shake my head. “No way. Aggie’s smart. That’s why I’m here.”

  John Jr. raises an eyebrow.

  “She needs more. Says there’s way too much demand.” The lies are coming easier to me now, and it’s just like old times. Talking fast and finding my way in was always my specialty. Who would have thought I’d need those skills for a moment like this?

  They stare at me, and it’s like time slows down. To keep from panicking, I count the seconds. They study me for eleven seconds before John Jr. nods at Big Steve. He steps aside to let me in. If you think eleven seconds isn’t a long time, try having two dangerous guys stare you down for that length of time while you attempt to record them committing a felony. Then tell me how quick it is.

  “Back here,” John Jr. says, leading the way.

  It’s just my luck that tonight there’s a poker game going on. It’s like sensory overload. I take in the bright overhead lights, the haze of cigar smoke, the green felt of the semicircular table, the sound of cards being shuffled and the tin-can electric taste of nerves on my tongue.

  Big Steve turns. “What do you say, Esssssssie? Want to get in on the action?”

  “Nah,” says John Jr. “She’s cut off, Stevo.”

  “I don’t know, Johnny, she looks ready to up her debt to me…” He trails off.

  For once in his stupid life, Big Steve is actually right. I’ve never wanted to sit down at the poker table more than I do right now. I know that’s only because I’m scared and I’m trying to find a way to feel better.

  I look at the players at the table. All of them are transfixed by the cards and the chips. Their faces all have the same hypnotized look of devotion. Underneath it, though, I can see their desperation. Everyone in this room is part of the same sickness. And I’m going to end it.

  “You know,” I say to John Jr., “I think I’m kind of over the poker scene.”

  “That so?” He cocks his eyebrow at me, not believing me.

  “I’m kind of into something else now,” I say, remembering that the cops told me they found just under a kilo of narcotics on Aggie. It was molly, the party drug.

  “Aggie’s supply,” I start. “It’s light.”

  “Light?” Big Steve asks.

  “Yeah. We can clear that kilo in a weekend. We need to think bigger.”

  “Bigger?” Big Steve echoes me again.

  “I’m listening,” says John Jr.

  “Molly is done,” I say. “I mean, everyone does it, but only once in a while. They don’t do it every night.”

  “Go on,” says John Jr.

  “Better to give us something we can sell every day. For a bigger return on our investment.”

  “Such as?” Big Steve asks.

  “Some kind of upper that helps you study. Like Ritalin or Adderall.”

  “We don’t do prescriptions,” says John Jr. “Too labor-intensive.”

  “Okay,” I say, finally leading them to where I want them. “Then crystal. An intense, short-term high. Super addictive.”

  I feel disgusting, saying this out loud. I almost forget I’m lying. I would never deal drugs to my fellow students. After all, I wanted to be a doctor before I screwed up my whole life.

  I’m terrified they’re going to get suspicious and discover the wire, but I keep my cool. I finally understand how my sister must have felt, standing here in this same situation—and for me.

  John Jr. and Big Steve talk for a while and then turn to me.

  “You sure you two little girls can handle something as heavy as this?” John Jr. asks.

  “Of course.”

  “This isn’t a bit of molly. This is harder shit. And tweakers aren’t to be trifled with. What are you going to do if one of them tries to rob you?”

  I hesitate. “I’ll carry a gun,” I say. “Or hire some muscle.”

  John Jr. lets out a loud laugh. “I’d like to see that, kid.”

  “Look,” I say. “You give me a few kilos of crystal to start. I bet I’ll be back in two days for double that amount. We can clear a hundred grand in a weekend. I’ve got skills and a 150 IQ. I think I can manage some protective resources and the necessary tools for the job. Unless, of course, you guys can’t handle that kind of action.”

  That was a bold move. Will it work? Or was I just too cocky?

  They stare at me.

  Finally John Jr. breaks into a smile. “Take her to the cooler, Stevo.”

  “With pleasure,” Big Steve says. “This way.” He grabs me by the elbow and shoves me along in front of him. “Move.”

  We walk down a back hallway I’ve never seen before until we come to a set of heavy doors. Refrigerated doors. I can feel bile rising in my throat. I wonder if the police will make it in here quickly enough to save me before Big Steve murders me in a meat cooler.

  He reaches out a thick forearm and pulls open the latch. The door swings outward. I’m expecting to see a GoodFellas-style scene of frozen gangster bodies hanging from meat hooks. But it’s just a cold room filled with cardboard boxes.

  “In,” Big Steve grunts.

  I step inside, hoping he doesn’t notice my legs shaking.

  John Jr. pushes past me and opens a box. He
dumps its contents in front of me—several sealed bags filled with crystalline rocks.

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s some nice-looking meth.” God, I hope the police can hear me back here. I swallow, going in for the kill. “You got more? Or is this your whole wad?”

  John Jr. chuckles. His ego is his downfall. He pulls a knife, and I’m amazed when I don’t flinch. He cuts open several more boxes, all of them filled with drugs.

  “That enough for you?” he asks. “You really think you can move all this?”

  “Well,” I say, pretending to think. “How much exactly do we have here?”

  He shrugs. “At least a hundred keys, maybe more.”

  “Yeah,” brags Big Steve. “Our dad has connections. He’s got the primo stuff.”

  “Shut up!” John Jr. spits. “You’re not supposed to talk about Dad.”

  “Right, sorry,” says Big Steve.

  “So what do you say, kid?” John Jr. asks. “Are we going to get rich or what?”

  I smile. “Guess it’s your lucky day.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The police waited until I walked out of there with a backpack and two duffel bags full of meth. They wanted it to look like a random bust instead of a sting. They’d been trying to get something on the owner of the club for a long time. I guess John Jr. and Big Steve were pretty small potatoes. It was their dad the cops were after.

  Instead of jail, Detective Crowley takes me directly to the airport. Time for rehab. I’ll have to stay there for ninety days, minimum. When I get to the departures gate, my parents are both there, along with a surprise. Aggie is here to see me off. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since that night at our family home.

  When I see her, I fall apart. The pain of everything I’ve done overwhelms me.

  “Aggie,” I say through sobs, “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know,” she whispers, squeezing me with one of her great hugs. “I always know, Es. It’s Twin Power™, remember?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. I guess you could have got yourself a better twin though, huh?”

  “No,” she says, pushing my bangs back from my eyes. “There is a zero percent probability of that.”