Chapter 9
I show them the picture of Tomas and
me at Coney Island. “His hair is buzzed now,” I tell Nuri, who
tries to pass the photo but Sloan won’t take it. The woman, who
Nuri calls Clay and Sloan calls b***h, takes a cursory
glance at the picture and walks away, disinterested. I watch her
kick at the sand on her way to the water before Nuri hands me back
the photograph. “This was only taken last year.”
“He’s cute,” Nuri says.
Beside him, Sloan scowls into the fire, a low growl rising in his
throat that Nuri ignores. “What’s his name?”
“Tomas.” I put the photo
back in my bag and watch Nuri’s dancing eyes glisten in the
firelight. “His uniform says Tait. You say you’ve seen
him?”
Nuri shrugs in that noncommittal way
I’ve noticed he has, like he knows more than he wants to
