The Big Time

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

TATE POINTED AT THE floor, and the men's eyes all followed its direction, looking at Troy's feet. Troy made a show of looking down himself and bent to scoop the money out of the rug, holding it up in his free hand.

"Wow," he said, "yeah. Got it. Thanks, Tate."

Troy's face warmed as he tucked the quarter back into his pocket.

"Okay, scat," Luther said, jabbing his thumb toward the door as he stepped to a side table and poured himself what looked like a whiskey to Troy.

"Come on," Troy's dad said, motioning to them. "Let's go sit by the pool and we can talk."

"Yeah," Luther said, raising his drink, "and I'll call you when I need you, Drew. That Cayman Islands thing, right?"

"Right," Troy's dad said. "Sure."

As they crossed the big room for the doors, Troy heard the sound of men arriving at the front door, laughter, greetings, and the slap of handshakes.

When they'd passed through the sliding doors and were alongside the pool, Troy asked, "What's that Cayman Islands thing all about?"

His father flinched but then quickly gave Troy a smile and a wink and said, "Just business."

"With that guy?" Troy asked.

"He's G Money's friend," Troy's dad said, lowering his voice. "If G Money wants to do something with him, I've got to stay on top of the deal. I'm the lawyer."

"What kind of a deal is it?" Troy asked, hoping against hope that his father would come up with something to prove the FBI agents wrong.

"Nothing you'd understand, Troy," his dad said. "Stop asking questions, will you? Why'd you come over here anyway? Did you climb over the wall?"

"Yeah," Troy said. "Tired of fighting with my mom, I guess."

"I get it," his dad said, showing them to seats around the table on the terrace where the men had played cards. "Let me get you two something to drink. Coke? Grape soda? Mountain Dew?"

"Orange soda if you have it," Tate said.

"Coke," said Troy.

The instant his dad disappeared down the shrub-lined path heading for G Money's bar by the end of the pool, Troy said, "Tate, are you kidding? What the heck are you even doing here? Do you know what you just did with that quarter?"

Tate gave him a worried look and shrugged. "Saved you twenty-five cents?"

"It's the whole reason I'm here," Troy said in an urgent whisper that he also used to quickly tell her the story about the FBI.

By the time he finished, Tate's forehead was wrinkled with concern.

"These people are, like, criminals?" Tate asked.

"I guess they are."

"But if you help, then they'll help your dad?"

"Yes."

"We have to get that thing back in there," she said as if speaking to herself.

"How?" Troy said, huffing. "I can't just walk back in there. That guy's scary. He's dangerous; that's what the FBI said. You see the way he looks at me?"

"No, you can't," Tate said, distracted by her thoughts until she looked up at him. "But I can."

" You can?" Troy asked. "How?"