Page 39 of The Five Year Lie

The circumstances were different, though—I’d hated my father, and I didn’t respect his rules. It’s not like that with Ray. I don’t enjoy lying to him, even if I have my reasons.

With a guilty shiver, I drop the tape into Zain’s backpack, which is sitting on the floor between us, unzipped.

“Good work,” he says without looking away from his screen.

“Thanks,” I mutter. But I’m already second-guessing myself. Zain just made me complicit in his little escapade, and I’m not even sure why I went along with it. If Drew was a thief or a corporate spy, why do I need to be mixed up in it?

What if his leaving was a blessing, not a curse? That’s not a question I’m used to asking myself.

I go back to my spreadsheets, but my head is in a dark place. What I need is an hour or two in the glass studio.

Before I leave, I open my bottom desk drawer, looking for the printout that Zain left me. I’m not prepared for what I find there. His file is as thick as a dictionary. “Are you serious right now?” I mutter as I pull it onto my lap and flip it open to the middle.

It’s barely decipherable. Each entry is a date and timestamp, a log-in and terminal number and a bunch of commands. My head hurts just looking at it.

Still, I jam it into my bag and leave the office behind, without a word to anyone.

Larri doesn’t even look startled when I walk in early again. I suit up and get to work on a prototype for a whiskey decanter, while she’s trying to shape a delicate glass bubble that’s meant to form the centerpiece of a chandelier she’s building for a commission.

But it’s tricky work, and her attempts keep landing on the floor.

The third time I hear the telltale crack, followed by curses, I set down the pipe I’m cleaning and grab a dustpan to scoop the biggest shards off the concrete. “You need help with that thing?”

“No. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get over my snit in a second.” She guzzles from a beat-up metal water bottle with Portland Pride stickers all over it. “It’s been a shit week. Tara isn’t speaking to me at the moment. She’s still mad.”

“Wait, why?” I demand. “Because of that text? It was an honest mistake.”

“You weren’t there.” Larri removes her goggles and wipes her forehead with her sleeve. “When I thought she was using, I said some ugly things. I told her I was done. I was willing to abandon her over a misunderstanding. She’s not over it.”

“Well, shit. I’m sorry.”

She gives me a grimace. “That’s not even the worst part. Right after our fight, she texted the dealer to demand that she never knock on our door again.”

My stomach drops. “Ohno.”

“Oh yes. The bitch turned up the next day and threatened Tara. Said if she ever talked about their business together, she’d kill us both.”

“God! I’msosorry.” And here I thought I was the only one having a rough week.

She shakes her head. “So now she’s freaked out, andstillmad at me. I honestly don’t know if we can get past this. Iwasready to walk, and she sees it as a huge betrayal. All the hard work she’s done staying clean for years. Because I didn’t believe her when she defended herself. That fucking text blew up my life.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter.

“Hang on, did you get one of those texts, too? From who?”

I swallow hard. “An old friend.”

She chucks her pipe into the warmer and turns toward me. “What kind of old friend are we talking about?” She squints, and I can see her doing the mental math. “Do you mean Buzz’s daddy?”

I’ve held this in for so many years now that I feel like a dam about to burst. I nod.

Larri whistles. “Holy shit. Really? And you let me just blather on about my drama withoutmentioningit?”

“I’ve been upset.”

She laughs. “You don’t do upset like normal people. You realize that, yeah? Most people overshare and overeat.”

“Pink wine seems to be my drug of choice.”