Page 64 of Reasons We Break

“No.” Nick picks up a ledger, too. “These records don’t leave this house.”

Sighing, Rajan sits upright. Instant vertigo forces his eyes closed. He kind of, sort of, very much wishes he could do a line right now to wake himself up. He already broke his sobriety streak. What’s the point of trying again?

“I know that look on your face,” Nick says. Rajan opens his eyes to find him staring. “And the answer is no. You’re brainless when you’re using.”

Rajan scowls and returns to reading. Potential candidates have already been highlighted, with notes stuck in the pages. Nick’s clearly been doing some light stalking on clients. There’s an economics professor. An accountant. A financial consultant...Rajan lowers the book. “Couldn’t you pay off any of these people?”

“I’m looking for something specific.”

“Which is?”

“Vulnerability,” Nick says simply. “For example, take Brenckmann’s file over there. Highly regarded accountant. And careful. His assistant picks up product for him. The guy practically never leaves his office. No one has anything on him. Therefore, he’s not a good mark.”

Rajan, undeterred, flips to Brenckmann and opens his envelope. Lots of info on Brenckmann, but Rajan focuses on the assistant. She’s an international student, runs all his errands, prepares his presentations. Probably wipes his ass, too. Rajan studies the blurry photo. It’s a candid of a woman with a black ponytail and work uniform crossing a street. A gas station sign looms overhead, one he recognizes from downtown.

“You’ve gotta really trust your assistant if they’re picking up your drugs,” Rajan murmurs. “But she’s got a second job, too.”

“So?”

“So the first doesn’t pay enough. Your accountant’s stingy with his employees. He may not be vulnerable, butsheis.”

Nick leans over and snatches the book from his hands for another look. Rajan picks up another in the meantime. Opening it makes him pause—it’s got Simran’s handwriting in it. She must’ve been using it last night. Her calculations cascade down the page, much harder to follow after the fact. If he was there, she would’ve explained as she was doing them. But hewasn’tthere. So instead all he can do is stare at her writing and add it to the list of things he’s missed out on because he was getting high.

As if on cue, his phone chimes—a reminder for Hillway this afternoon. Fantastic. He has no desire to face Simran today. That’s the worst part of a comedown—the consequences. Of course, if he keeps using, he won’t have to face any...

Cut it out, he tells himself firmly. Out loud, he says, “So what do you think?”

“Not viable.” Nick throws down the book. “She may be desperate for money, but she’s not gonna sell out her boss. He’s her best source of income. You need an angle to make peoplewantto cooperate.”

Rajan takes another book from the pile. They read in silence until the sounds of voices from downstairs float through the vent. Nick looks out the window. “You should go.”

It’s not even eight. “But—”

“If I were you,” Nick interrupts, “I’d leave before people start waking up. You don’t have many fans around here.”

It’s a little too similar to what Zohra said yesterday. “So? That’s never been a problem before.”

Nick shrugs. “Stay, then.” He props his feet on the table. “I like you being here anyway. It’s like old times.”

Thatgets Rajan to his feet. “That’s not what this was.” He throws the ledger at Nick’s chest.

Nick catches it, looking amused. He doesn’t argue. He just taps the tattoo on his neck, and Rajan can almost feel his burn in response. “Sure it wasn’t.”

By the time Rajan sulks home, it’s midmorning and everyone’s gone. Good. He doesn’t want to face his family. It’s obvious what he did all night, proof his dad was right. And the idea that Sukha might follow in his footsteps withthis, too, makes him want to get fucked up again. Which he knows doesn’t make much sense, but in his brain it does.

He compromises by crashing until it’s time for Hillway. Today’s volunteering session is at the public library, and when he arrives, most of the other volunteers are already dispersed. Simran’s the only mentor still standing at the door with—Neetu, he recognizes. Her friend.

Simran spots him first. God, kill him now. But when he reaches them, she smiles.

“Neetu’s a librarian here,” she tells him. “She’s managing the group today.”

There’s a fakeness to that smile. They’re putting on a performance, then. He turns to Neetu, and Neetu explains their task for the day. They’re cleaning up after a Nerf war organized by the teen book club yesterday; many rubber Nerf darts are still missing after the initial collection.

“This feels like a made-up job,” Rajan comments once she’s handed them a basket.

Neetu laughs. “It’s not. Last time we had a Nerf war, I was finding darts in bookshelves for months. I’d rather not have to keep buying more. Do you know how much those things cost?”

And with that, she directs them upstairs to begin their search.