Page 211 of Tar City
The man backs into the alley without breaking eye contact with me. “Count the shadows,” he calls softly.
“Crazy bastard.”
I stay quiet, because unfortunately, this is my hometown showing its true colors.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” I say the second we’re back on the street, the door to my building clicking shut behind us. “He’s not always like that.”
“You don’t have to apologize for your dad,” Lucas says gently, his hand finding mine. “I’m sure he’s just worried about your sister.”
“I can’t believe this,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’m mad at her, but I’m also… Fucking Pitfire, I’m worried. I knew I should’ve come home sooner.”
“You had your season,” Lucas says. “You were rehearsing six days a week. You just got your permanent position. You can’t be everywhere at once.”
“I should’ve known things were bad when she started asking for more money,” I mutter. “I’m grateful, by the way, for the loan.”
“It’s not a loan, Sisk,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I love you. I’m happy to help. You couldn’t have known. Your life there matters too.”
Tar City doesn’t care about what matters.
“So how far is this place?” Lucas asks as we walk.
“East side by The Cut.”
“The Cut?”
“Heart of the city,” I say quietly. “Asshole of the world.”
“That’s a nice tagline.”
I try to smile, it doesn’t work.
The train to arrive in Tar City is not the same as the one that crosses town. This one is dirty and reeks of piss and booze. The seats are sticky, every surface is filmed with grime, and the windows are so scratched up you can barely see the city outside. A couple is arguing at the far end of the car and someone is sleeping across two seats. This is the kind of train where you instinctively pull your bag a little closer to your lap and definitely don’t make eye contact with anyone.
Lucas stands close, one hand resting lightly at my waist.
We’re two stops from The Cut when the train slows under a bridge, and through the open side, I see them—a group of guys gathered near the platform below. They’re crowding too close to two women backed against a wall. The girls are laughing, but it’sfear I see. The others on the train move closer to the windows, a silent, morbid audience.
Lucas shifts behind me. “Don’t stare,” he says quietly.
The train slows further and I grab the pole and bend forward, trying to see better. One of the girls says something and a guy grabs her wrist.
“That’s not—” I start.
“Sisk.”
“They need help.”
“You don’t know that.”
I turn to him. “They’re cornered.”
“And we’re outnumbered.”
The train starts moving again, the scene sliding past like a nightmare we’re lucky enough to miss. Lucas exhales slowly. “This isn’t our fight.”
I stare at him and a strong, unexpected disappointment hits me as I realize Lucas is the kind of guy who looks the other way.
