5 day streak!

(my weekend goal is to review everything I already have written for the upcoming chapters so I can revise and post them!)

All of the evidence was pointing to Chloe Peterson as Pattie Cake, and there were too many coincidences with Clo. 

Both of them had a criminal father who went to jail the same year.  Clo had seemed believable when she told me her dad's name was Lester, but as a professional liar, I hesitated to believe her — Lester was also too close to her grandma's name.

And speaking of grandma's, Chloe Peterson's guardian seemed to be her grandma, and Clo admitted several times that she was close to her granny.  Not to mention Clo's grandma died around the same time Winters received the threatening call from Pattie Cake, and right before Clo moved in with Izaak.

And Pattie met Winters shortly after Izaak moved to NYC.

And those piercing, sexy blue eyes.

I'd gotten as much info from Izaak as I could without compromising the case.  I'd asked him enough about Clo's history and he was just too private about that kind of stuff.  As hard to read as Clo herself.  

It was just all adding up.  

Molly's plea came to mind — It seems like you don't have enough against her yet to accuse her.  And the stakes are too high to just turn her in like that without knowing for sure. 

Did I have enough info now?  How much did I need before telling him my suspicions?  Would it even be possible to know without a shadow of doubt? 

violet flashback

I sat in the backseat of Gabe's car staring at the flashing lights while he finished smoothing everything over with the cops for me.  Andy and his cousin, Leo, were in cuffs leaning against the trunk of the cop car, arguing with one of the officers.  The scene formed a pit in my stomach.  My ex-boyfriend and his crew had already caused enough drama, threatening me within inches of my life, calling immigration with lies about my brother, pulling a gun on Gabe... I should've learned my lesson already, but of course I hadn't.

The door opening snapped me out of my thoughts as Gabe plopped down next to me with a loud sigh.  His driver glanced back in the rearview mirror, waiting for the half nod from Gabe, signaling to head home.  The clock on the dashboard read 3:19am.

"Where's Molly?" I wondered aloud.

Gabe's sharp glare made me question if I had said something wrong.  "Home, where she should have been this whole time."  There was a fierce protectiveness as he said it, a side of him that rarely came out.

As the driver pulled into the empty Manhattan streets, I swallowed a lump in my throat, taking a few deep breaths to steady my racing heart.  Gabe's icy silence gave me all the information I needed — he was pissed and no amount of talking would get me out of this.  It was the longest 20-block ride I'd ever taken.

just trying to do this daily writing thing...

I woke up Sunday morning parched and with a pounding headache, instantly regretting my night of freedom.  As much as I hated Gabe's control, there were moments (like this) where I was thankful that he had stepped in when he did.  Who knows what kind of mess I would be in without him?

The hangover prevented me from wanting to roll out of bed, so instead I laid there and thought about everything that had happened over the last couple of days.  Realizing Clo was Pattie Cake, our late night meeting where she confessed, Andy's blackmail, Gabe and Izaak flipping out when they found out we went to Dominic's.  I was mad at myself for promising Clo that I'd keep shit quiet, regretting that decision almost in the exact moment that I made it, even though I owed her one.  I badly wanted to talk to Gabe — he would know how to fix it all.  But there was a part of me that feared that he would choose Winters over Clo.

It's his job to side with Winters. The same thing Clo had told me to convince me not to tell.  And the truth.

And it's my job to find Clo.  

My heart thumped inside my chest as I thought about keeping this knowledge from Gabe a second longer.  My loyalty should be to Gabe, not Clo... I barely even knew her... and she's a con artist!  Who knows how honest she was even able to be with me.  

eh, failed attempt

For the first time in months, I felt calm.  My focus solely on the art in front of me while Toby stayed close by, radiating a feeling of safety that I'd needed for a while.  It was different than how I felt with Izaak — my roommate would protect me at all costs, but his fierce loyalty to the FBI had me skeptical of where I stood.  Toby looked for a different kind of intimacy... he wanted to see every part of me, and accept all of those parts, regardless of whether I accepted myself.  He asked all the right questions, genuinely curious about my past, not allowing me to hide.  It was so refreshing, I almost wanted to confess everything to him.  Almost.

When our art was complete, I took a step back and looked it over.  "I feel like an official street artist now," I said with a grin, glancing over at Toby.  He was splattered with paint, all the way from his Vans up to his backward hat he always wore to running group.

trying to get back into writing

Violet's intensity was scaring me.  "Please don't tell anyone... just give me some time, I'll figure something out..."

"Bro," she began, shaking her head.  "I ain't promising shit.  How long you been a con artist?  I need the details."  

I ignored the way my stomach twisted in knots, straightening up and steadying my breathing.  "I'll tell you everything... just please... Gabe can't know... and Izaak..."

"You really think Sergeant Douche is that clueless?"  She cocked an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leaned back, giving me a glare that sent a chill down my spine.

He has to be, I thought, or he wouldn't still keep me around, right? "It started when my granny got sick..."

"Don't play the pity card," she warned, taking a sip of her drink but urging me to continue.

"I don't need your pity."  The conviction in my voice surprised both of us.  I cleared my throat.  "She needed care that I couldn't provide.  There aren't many quick way to make money... and you've seen me, there's no way I could pull off being a drug dealer."

"What about dear ol' dad?  He didn't have his own con money to share?"

I shook my head.  "He was already in jail.  All his resources had been used up for a legal defense, which obviously didn't work it.  It was just granny and me.  I was like 20... working shitty part time jobs."

"Izaak had already left."  Framed more as a statement, but I nodded anyway.  "Would you have done it if he hadn't?"

"Who knows.  I was desperate and men are usually easy to trick."