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“Her?”she blustered, shaking her head in exasperation. “It’sher, ain’t it?”

Her.It meant many things at once. “It is.”

She nodded. It was not a gesture of support. “My, my,” she said. “You’ve gone and fucked it all up now, son. Haven’t you? You’re gonna bring the whole world down upon us.”

Patrick stared at a spot above her head and tempered himself. “She’s on our side now,” he said firmly.

“Is she?”

“She will be.”

Tess closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Patrick felt her exhaustion, her worry—a mother’s worry. “Be careful, son,” she said. “Please, for all our sakes. Promise me.”

Before he could nod, a hand took Patrick’s shoulder from behind. He did not bother looking back to see who it was, but Tess Colson did.

Her expression turned disapproving. She looked expectantly back at Patrick. “What’s this? You ain’t takin’ your brother nowhere in his state.”

Donny chose that moment to lean his chin on Patrick’s shoulder. “What state?” he drawled.

“He’s drunk,” Tess said. Donny was now pursing his lips around an invisible cigarette and attempting to light it. “Get him upstairs. Now.”

“We’ve got a small matter of business first,” Patrick said. “Won’t take long.”

Tess sighed, eyeing her sons as though God had given her a small reservoir of strength and they’d stolen it all at birth. “I don’t want to hear nothin’ about it in the mornin’,” she said. “You hear me?”

“Night, Ma,” Patrick said, stepping around her. He left her seething in place and pushed the door open. Isaiah lumbered over from his spot by the fireplace and followed them out.

Once over the threshold, Patrick didn’t keep moving right away. Instead, he lifted his face to the night sky, sucked breath into his lungs.God help me, he thought.

Donny had followed close, his hand still pressed to Patrick’s shoulder, releasing it once they’d cleared the stoop. “I was about to take that girl to bed, Patty. This’d better be important,” he said, eyes staring somewhere beyond. They never stilled. His pupils were the same hue as Patrick’s own, but they twitched minutely, even under the weight of whiskey.

“Which girl?” Patrick scoffed. “The whore?” Isaiah nosed his hand, eager to get moving.

“She weren’t a whore,” Donny staggered, overbalancing. “Said she were a traveler girl from Dorser.”

“Well,” Patrick exhaled, beginning down the street. He tugged on Donny’s sleeve until he fell into pace. “Unless I’m mistaken, I seem to remember Marie-Laure growing up in her daddy’s scrapyard on Rutting Way.”

Donny gasped. “Fuck me. Was thatMarie-Laure?”

“It were,” Patrick said. “You need to stop drinkin’ like that, Donny.”

He sniffed. “Couldn’t see straight before I started drinkin’. Ain’t gettin’ any blinder, am I?”

Patrick supposed he was right. Donny had never seen well as a kid, and it had only worsened with the years, his sight fading until there was nothing at all. Blind before he could find the first hair on his chin.

Patrick sighed. “Blindness ain’t ever hindered you so much before.”

“Come to think of it, her tits did feel familiar,” Donny muttered. “Hey, wait a minute. Where’s me wallet?”

“Long gone, I’ll bet.”

Donny dropped his hand to Patrick’s coat sleeve, gripping the fabric behind his elbow between two fingers. “Women,” he bleated. “Takin’ your money whether you bed ’em or not. A boyfriend would at least spend the night with me.”

Patrick lit a cigarette and put it in his brother’s hand, then lit another for himself. “Marie gets more done in a day than you do in a week, little brother,” he said. “Cost me a lot fuckin’ less, too, mind you.”

“I earn my keep,” Donny protested. “I’m out here with you now, ain’t I? You plannin’ on tellin’ me where the fuck we’re goin’?”

Patrick’s jaw flexed, the irritation he’d stemmed earlier returning. “We’re off to old Bernie’s place,” he said. “I need a quick word.”