"You want me in on this project with Mr. S.," I said, "then Kelsey gets left alone."

"She's Al's mark," Danny said. "Look, I'm not interested, except as your brother. And I respect your privacy."

I looked around the patio. "At least you respect someone's."

Danny sat back in his chair. "Was that really necessary?"

"It is what it is," I said. "I want to help you, and if anyone else benefits from that, so be it. But I'm not handing over control of my life to Bavasi and Santoro. Or to you."

"Nobody's taken control of your life, Kev," Danny said. "You control everything. Just do what you promised, just paint your small anonymous corner of the bigger picture and Santoro and his minions creep back into the shadows."

"Does that include you?" I asked.

"Not unless you want it to," Danny said.

"Of course not," I said. "Though you do test me sometimes."

"Some things never change," Danny said.

"Ever the fucking charmer, you are." I checked my watch, stood. "I gotta get ready for class."

Danny remained in his seat. "I'm gonna finish my coffee here in the sunshine. I don't see it much anymore."

"Listen, I told Mom you were back around," I said. "I told her you were doing well. You need to come see her. She misses you."

My brother smiled up at me. "This isn't an ambush? The old man is wily."

"No, it's not. I cleared it with Dad." I checked the time again. "Mom is sick, Dan. She's got Alzheimer's." I stretched my arm across the table, bending my wrist so he could see my watch.

"The clock is ticking."

"Isn't it always?" Danny said. "Alzheimer's? Fuck me." He slipped off his shades and looked away from me, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There is no fucking justice in this world."

"Tell me about it; I'm a history teacher. You need to go see her. Soon."

"I will," Danny said.

"Don't wait too long," I said. "Their number is the same."

Danny said nothing. I watched the muscles of his jaw twitch. I hated dumping this on him without more time to talk, but there wasn't a lot to say. He knew what he had to do. All I could do was offer to help him with it.

"I'll go with you," I said. "Anytime you want."

He held up his fist and I bumped it with my own. "Thanks for telling me, Kev. I'm glad I know."

I stepped closer and leaned over him. "I meant what I said about Kelsey. Leave her alone or I'm out. That's the deal."

Getting back to business seemed to yank Danny back to earth.

"The thing with the cop might give me some traction," Danny said. "No promises."

"Call me later," I said. I squeezed his shoulder. "Don't pass by the history building when you leave. I'll carry on as if I've been heard."

"Affirmative, double-oh-seven," Danny said. There was no joy in the joke.

I couldn't think of anything funny to say, so I just walked away.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, I waited for Kelsey on our bench. Campus was quiet, all the undergrads and most of the teachers gone for the evening. A few disheveled night school and graduate students trudged across the grounds, books open in their hands and cell phones glued to their ears. To a one, they were already exhausted from the jobs they worked all day, the kids and homes they tended. I empathized with them. Not too long ago that had been me.

I was younger then, but I pushed myself to the same raw, scratchy-eyed, zombie-stagger state.

Three master's classes a semester and an assistantship teaching freshman-level history survey courses. Not to mention the ninety-minute commute back and forth to NYU from my parents'

house. I carried my whole life in the bulging pockets of a shoulder bag that was as much a part of me as the color of my eyes.

Searching that same bag for my smokes, I tried to remember the last time I didn't feel exhausted.

It didn't make sense. I did less work and had a lot more experience at the work I did do. I had by most accounts an easy life. Yet these last few days running around with either Danny or Kelsey were the only time I'd felt anything like alive in the past couple of years. What did that say about me? Was I that desperate for excitement? That bad at living on my own? I had the feeling that other people, normal people like ones I was watching, didn't make the same choices I did. And only a matter of days ago I considered my life so normal I felt like hanging myself from the shower rod. Of course, those other people didn't have Daniel Curran for a brother.

"Yo," Kelsey yelled, striding out of the history building. "I've been looking all over for you. You said meet you in the office."

"I needed a cigarette," I said, lighting up.

She sat close to me, our legs touching. "You don't look so good." She brushed my hair back off my forehead. "You're kind of pale."

"What do you know about Whitestone?" I asked.

Kelsey leaned back on the bench, narrowed her eyes. She didn't answer my question. The playfulness had left her, wariness in its place, but her fingertips rested on my shoulder.

"I need to talk to him," I said.

"Why?"

"About some things I'm working on." I wet my lips with my tongue. "I might design a class on Bloodroot, see if he'll let me teach it."

"For real?" Kelsey asked. I could tell she didn't doubt my story. She was just shocked at my initiative. "It's bold. Give him what he wants, but on your terms. I like it."

The truth, like bile, rose to the back of my tongue. It was only fair to let her know what I was getting into. It was my fault Al watched her apartment. But I'd already promised Danny she wasn't involved and that she wouldn't be. Could I trust Danny to help me protect her? Did his loyalty extend that far? Even if I could trust Danny, what about Bavasi and by extension Santoro? Bavasi would smell the betrayal of his confidence on my skin, maybe even smell it on Danny if I forced him to keep secrets from his bosses. I knew what happened to the people who didn't keep Santoro's secrets. I didn't want Al or anybody else hauling Kelsey's corpse out to the dump. Mine, either.

But I liked her, more than I should considering both our circumstances, and I didn't want to lie to her any more than I absolutely had to. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I could keep my two lives close but separate. I just had to be careful.

"I don't want to go see him completely ignorant," I said. "This Friends of Bloodroot thing, how serious is he?"

Kelsey's hand slid up the back of my neck. I felt the warm pressure of her thigh against mine.

"It's not the museum he cares about. He's just into sticking it to admin."

"What for? He lives like a king up in that office. He hardly ever comes out of it."

"He wanted the liberal arts chair and they gave it to someone else." She grinned. "A woman. A black woman with half the service time that he has." She stretched her arms over her head and laced her fingers, cracking her knuckles. "A black woman who's twice as smart and whose people skills are four times better."

"That's not saying much," I said. "He can't think he'll win, that he'll stop the dorms from happening."

"Who knows? He's already slowed things down," Kelsey said.

"He's done a great job working the press. He's got people on the island behind him. It's hard to take up the cause of dead, disabled orphans and not make some friends. It's pretty bulletproof.

Don't think he doesn't know that."

"Anybody we know in tight with him?"

"Not that I know of," she said. "Everybody from our department but us signed up for it, but that was just to get him off their backs. They don't actually do anything. He's got a few members from other departments. A couple instructors from the psych department, a full professor from over in biology, a couple from urban sciences. All the profs most disgruntled with the bosses."

"Anybody with any juice?"

Kelsey leaned toward me, one elbow on her knee, her chin on her fist. "Listen to you, Mr.

Gangsta-speak." She batted her eyes. "I must say I'm intrigued. First me, now Whitestone and his crew. All of a sudden you're interested in this department?"

"For very different reasons," I said. I smiled. "Selfish reasons."

She waited for me to say something more, her eyes aglow with cheer and curiosity. This was a thing that couples did, share plans, ideas, and thoughts. And there she was, all in for it. We're a couple, that's what her face was telling me. Her face showed the truth, and I knew mine didn't.

Something slow and heavy turned over in my gut, like a sleeper turning beneath cool sheets in the dark.

I remembered what my brother had said about the distance while holding that tiny sliver of sunshine between his fingers. I'd just used her for information, that after putting her in the sight lines of dangerous people I knew very little about. In my mind I could see the light between Danny's fingers going out. I'd made a terrible mistake in getting involved with Kelsey, but I knew I'd keep on making it. For so long, I hadn't had the nerve to start with her; now I lacked the strength or desire to stop. But that didn't matter right then. All I had to do was not let the remaining light go out.

The lies were for her protection, I told myself. And temporary. When my work with Danny was done, my lies to Kelsey would be erased. In a short time, it'd be like they never happened. So I went ahead and told them.

"Bloodroot is American history," I said. "The expose that eventually got it closed had nearly every state in the country reevaluating their schools and asylums. We're about to make the site a part of campus. Sounds pertinent to an American history class, which happens to be what I teach.

I've got half a syllabus worked up already."

Kelsey sat silent for a moment. Suddenly, I was terrified that she hadn't bought any of it. I was on the verge of blurting out the truth when she took my hand.

"I have to tell you, Kev," she said. "That's a pretty aggressive idea. Your own course? Built from the ground up? I'll bet you haven't done something like that in years. I'm impressed. Must feel good."

Her words would have warmed me to the core, maybe for days, if I didn't already feel like an utter shitheel for lying to her. The ease with which I did it sounded a deeper, darker alarm within me.

"Okay. I can't take credit for this resurrection," Kelsey said. "Though I'd like to. Every girl wants to believe she's got the magic garden in her jeans. But I can be happy about it. And I can help." She stood and turned toward the building behind us. "Let's go see if Whitestone's up there right now."

"No." I reached out and snagged her arm-hard enough to almost jerk her back down to the bench. She pulled her arm free and glared at me.

"I should do this on my own," I said. "It's been a while since I showed any initiative around here." Her glare softened. "Thanks, though. Sorry about the arm."

"No problem," she said, setting her hands on her hips, squinting at me. "You sure you're all right? No offense, but you look even worse than when I got out here."

"I'm fine," I said. "Long day."

Kelsey leaned over, inspecting me, her hair falling over one eye. My heart flipped over. I dropped my eyes and coughed into my hand, trying to hide my face. I wanted her to stuff me in her bag and take me home, take me anywhere, and make me forget everything.

"I am a little out of sorts. I think maybe I'm dehydrated." I patted my pockets, looking for my wallet. Anything not to look at her. I started to stand. "I could use a water or an iced tea or something."

Kelsey grabbed my shoulders and eased me back down. "Sit. Relax." She dug her change purse from her bag. "Don't worry. I got it."

She trotted away toward the history building, leaving me alone on the bench with only the sandpaper scratch of my conscience and the fading evening light for company. I hoped she never came back, that something clicked in her brain and she took off for the airport. I hoped I could pull off this assignment for Santoro without anyone getting hurt. I stared down at the toes of my old, scuffed-up shoes. I had to stop this hoping for what I wanted. I was so out of practice I kept picking the wrong things.

FOURTEEN.

HIS BLACK EYES ON FIRE, AL SAT ALONE IN THE BACK BOOTH AT the Red Lion when I arrived, a watery, half-finished cocktail in front of him and three empty glasses beside it.

His simmering fury told me my conditions had made it at least as far as his ears. Had I gotten him in trouble with Santoro? I tried not to care. I swallowed hard and glanced around the room for Danny. I didn't see him.

I stopped at the bar, ordered a Jack and Coke. I slurped at it while waiting for my change, thinking about the scene in Star Wars where Han Solo blows up that alien bounty hunter from under the table. Sweat trickled down both sides of my rib cage. What if I'd made things worse for everyone? Or maybe just for me? I could feel Al's eyes boring into my back. That a sci-fi movie was my only reference for this situation made me horribly aware of how much of a fucking amateur I was at these dangerous, grown-up games. All my life I'd excelled at keeping my mouth shut. Why'd I pick now to be brave?

I slid the ones from my change around on the bar. If I stuck a couple in the jukebox, I could kill another few minutes and hope Danny appeared. I looked over at the door. Maybe I should walk back out. What if Al followed me? Caught me alone on the street? In his voice message, Danny had told me to arrive at nine. He hadn't said specifically that he was coming. What if he wasn't?

Could Danny have set me up? No way. Never. I didn't really think that; I was just scared. Al was an overpaid, overgrown schoolyard bully. I wasn't gonna let him get to me like he had outside my building.

I picked up my cocktail and walked over to the booth. I opened my mouth to say something as I sat but Al cut me off.

"He'll be here in a little while," Al said.

He shifted in his seat. My stomach cramped up. I told myself to relax. I'd asked for this conference. Danny knew about this meet, had set it up. I'd be okay. Al might not think twice about splitting my skull, I knew that now, but he wouldn't cross Danny like that.

"You got my message?" I asked.

"Are you on crack?" Al spat. "I thought Danny was the crazy brother, but you? You got me rethinking my opinions. What the fuck are you doin' making demands on me? On Mr. S.?"

I reached for my glass. Al's arm shot out across the table, pinning my wrist. He slammed the elbow of his other arm on the table. I searched the room to see if anyone had heard. If they had, they were ignoring it.

"Eyes front, motherfucker," Al said. He pinched the forefinger and thumb of his hand close together; the same gesture Danny had used just that afternoon. I wondered, bizarrely, if Bavasi had taught them that move, like a secret handshake.

"You, shitbird, are a tiny, tiny piece of all this. That means you carry exactly no weight, which means you got exactly nothing to say. Zero. Playin' hero for that frisky cunt you're bangin' is only gonna get people hurt. People that ain't me." Al released my wrist and sat back hard in the booth. His hands settled into his lap. "Follow me, Professor?"

My hand tingled and burned as the blood returned. I curled my fingers as best I could around my glass. I leaned over the table, never taking my eyes from Al's, from his self-satisfied grin. I put all my energy into keeping both my voice and my Jack and Coke from shaking.

"You call Kelsey that name again," I said, "and right before I burn you to death in that fucking short-dick car of yours, I'll feed you your own balls."

Al blinked at me a couple times. Never let it be said I didn't learn something from my old man.

Then Al moved. I froze. All the breath fell out of my chest. Al was halfway out of his seat when a hand seized his shoulder, pushing him back down. Danny.