He held it out high.
One of the suited men clapped him on the shoulder.
"That's the Sean we know. Heart of gold."
"Try to do my part," he replied.
Then the men turned to walk toward the parking garage.
Sean leaned down to me as if to help me up.
His hand closed around my wrist.
The men turned to walk toward the parking garage.
"Listen carefully," he said, his voice low and cold, barely more than a breath. "You don't come back here. Not tomorrow. Not ever."
I froze.
"Sir, I only asked for—"
"I don't care what you asked for."
His fingers tightened until it hurt.
"You don't come back here."
"People like you make this street look bad. I have investors walking past here every day. You understand me?"
I stared up at his face.
I could not find the man I knew anywhere in it.
"I paid you," he continued. "Consider that your going-away gift. If I see you here again, I'll have building security drag you off and bar you from the block. One word from me and you won't set foot on this street again."
"Consider that your going-away gift."
The warmth in his eyes was completely gone.
"Do we understand each other?"
I heard my own voice, small and shaking.
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I can," he said simply. "Now crawl back to wherever you came from."
Something inside me snapped from grief into a strange, terrible calm.
"Now crawl back to wherever you came from."
My hand went to my head.
I pulled off the tangled wig in one motion.
"Then I suppose we understand each other perfectly, Sean."
For a moment he did not react.
His brain refused to connect the woman on the pavement to the face he thought he knew.
Then the color drained from his skin.
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