“Are you kidding me?” Vic says, his face lit up with joy. “It’s fucking fantastic!”

“Hey, put a quarter in the swear jar,” Dad says, shuffling out of his room. He’s looking not-terrible today, which is an improvement.

“If you enforced that rule with Camille, we’d have a million dollars,” Vic says.

“What? My baby girl?” Dad says, pretending to be shocked.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I say, innocently.

Vic rolls his eyes at me, turning his attention back to the mixing board. He looks like he wants to kiss it.

“Uh oh,” Dad says. “I think Vic has finally fallen in love.”

Vic gives me a mischievous grin. “I hear I’m not the only one,” he says.

“What, what? What did I miss? Don’t tell me we’re talking about Nero Gallo . . .”

“Uh . . .” I say, blushing. “Yeah. I mean, yes. We’re together.”

“Nice work,” my father says, giving me an approving nod.

“You don’t mind about . . . you know,” I say, referencing the Gallos rather colorful reputation.

“I never expected you to fall for anyone normal,” Dad says, shrugging his shoulders.

Vic snorts, and I can’t help laughing too.

“Me either, I guess,” I say.

As Vic tries to sneak his gift back to his room, I add, “Don’t think this means you’re dropping out of school! You still need to get a degree. Even if you are making sick beats on the side.”

Vic groans. “Please don’t say ‘sick beats.’ “

“Why?” I tease him. “Is that not ‘fire’ anymore?”

“What’s ‘fire?’ ” Dad says, mystified.

“You two are killing me,” Vic says, pulling his hat down over his eyes in embarrassment.

“I’m starting to think that he doesn’t think we’re cool,” I say to my Dad.

“Impossible,” he shakes his head.

I grab the last piece of toast, and head down to the auto bay.

Even though my cut of the money was an utterly insane sum, it’s business as usual for the foreseeable future. For one thing, Nero drilled it into my head again and again that we can’t behave any differently. Cops, gangsters, and Raymond Page will all be sniffing around, looking for the slightest sign of bank robbers flush with cash. Even the gorgeous Grand Sport is currently hidden under a dust cover in the garage, so I don’t draw attention to myself.

Funnily enough, I don’t mind buckling down to work, now that it’s a choice instead of a necessity. I guess it helps that if some dickhole comes into the shop, hollering about the quote we gave him, I can tell him to bugger off. It’s nice to have a cushion, so you don’t have to cling to every job that comes your way.

I work straight through lunch, so I can leave early tonight. I’ve got a date with Nero—one I’m a little nervous about.

Once I’m finished, I head upstairs with plenty of time to shower and scrub my hands clean.

I wish I had Patricia to doll me up, but I’m on my own tonight. She’s got her own date with Mason.

She called me up to tell me all about the reconciliation.

“He flew Nana out to visit, it was a total surprise! AND he remembered to pick her up at the airport, right on time. He had this whole thing planned for us where we did the architecture river cruise, and the SkyDeck, and ate at Smoque . . . Nana was so happy, she said it was the best trip of her life. I swear, Camille, it’s like he got this fire lit under him. He says he found an apartment, and he wants to start a business, renting portable movie screens . . . I don’t know what happened to him!”

“That’s amazing,” I said, trying not to laugh. “I’m really happy for you, Patricia.”

I feel a little guilty having to play dumb with Patricia, but I’m sure Mason will tell her in time.

I’ve got a different secret weighing even heavier on my conscience.

It’s the secret of Vic’s real father.

I know he’s told me a hundred times that he doesn’t want to know. And he might be better off—Raymond Page is an absolute ass. But I keep thinking of Bella. That burst of empathy I had the night on the beach hasn’t entirely left me. I think Bella is the way she is because of her parents. I wonder if she’d be different if she had a family member who wasn’t cold-hearted. Someone funny and kind. Someone like Vic.

Once I’ve showered and put on my robe, I knock on Vic’s door.

“Hey,” I say, poking my head inside. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” he says.

I’m pleased to see that he’s got his homework spread out in front of him, even with the temptation of the new mixing board right next to him.

“Vic, I know we’ve talked about this a bunch of times. But sometimes when something’s theoretical, it’s different than reality . . .”

“What are you talking about?” Vic says, chewing the end of his pencil.

I take a deep breath.

“I found your father. And a sister, too.”

For once, Vic doesn’t dismiss the subject immediately. He sits very still, looking up at me with those big, dark eyes.

“A sister?” he says.

“Yeah.”

“How old?”

“Uh . . . my age, actually.”

Vic puts the pencil down.

“I guess . . . that is different,” he says.

“Yeah. I know where she is. If you wanted to meet her.”

Vic runs both hands through his hair, thinking hard. I give him time, not interrupting.

Finally he says, “Ask me again in a year. When I graduate.”

I let out the breath I was holding.

“Yeah?” I say. “You sure?”

“Yup.” Vic gives me a quick hug. “I’ve got enough sisters for now.”

I ruffle his hair, hugging him back with my free hand. Then I leave him alone so he can get back to work.

I feel a sense of relief as I walk back to my room. If Vic wants to meet Bella in a year . . . I’m okay with that. It gives me enough time to get used to the idea.

Plus time to figure out how to do it without seriously pissing off Raymond Page.

I get dressed much more carefully than usual. I put on a new red dress that Patricia helped me pick out. It’s got sort of a Latin vibe to it, bright and playful, which isn’t exactly how I’d describe myself, but Patricia assured me that it was the perfect “meet the family” outfit.

I put my hair in a braid while it’s still damp, then I carefully dab on a little lip gloss, the same color as the dress.

I slip my feet into a pair of sandals, then head back down to the auto bay for Nero to pick me up.

The black Mustang pulls into the drive, right on time.

Nero jumps out, kissing me before he opens the door for me.

“You look stunning,” he says.

“I feel like I might throw up,” I admit.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “They’re going to love you.”

We drive west through Old Town. As we cross over Sedgwick, I hear bagpipes. A police procession marches down the road. The end of the street is blocked off, with a wall of uniformed officers lined up.