gets the ax, so do I.” He flicked his lips upward in a smile. “And since I happen to like my job, I have way more at stake than you do.”
“I told you before—I’m not walking away.”
“Why not? This is so clearly not your problem.”
She looked down at her feet. “Maybe not, but I still feel responsible.” She swallowed. “I know I don’t have to do this for Piper, but if I don’t, then, on some level, I feel like she’ll be disappointed in me. And I hate that. I know that probably makes me sound crazy, but I just . . . I just don’t want it to be my fault. Especially when I could have done something to prevent it.” She shook her head, her hair shivering over her shoulders. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
A point of cold threaded its way through Sam’s belly, reaching up through his chest. He swallowed hard, forcing his thoughts to stay still even as his body continued to move forward.
“You don’t sound crazy,” he said, grateful that his voice didn’t break.
“Really? Because I kind of feel crazy.”
He shrugged, the cold fading deeper into his bones to the point where he could almost ignore it. “That’s New York for you. This city inspires its own kind of crazy.”
She laughed, light and clear. “I like it, though. So, do you think we can do this? Can we find what we need and save your job? Together?”
He smiled. “Count me in, partner.”
A matching smile appeared on her face as fast and as bright as lightning before she tucked it away. But the glow remained in her eyes. “In that case, partner, do you have a plan for how we can find whatever it is that will make Piper happy?” she asked.
“I don’t know of anything that will make Piper truly happy, but I think I know where we should start looking.”
“Where’s that?”
“St. John’s Cathedral.”
“Are you saying we’re going to need a miracle?” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “Divine intervention?”
“Not exactly.” He grinned. “Though it couldn’t hurt. C’mon. It’s not far.”
They paused at the corner as a large red double-decker bus barreled past, the tourists on the top deck snapping pictures right and left. Sam shook his head. The pictures would probably all turn out blurry, but that was tourists for you. Too busy to stop and actually see the sights.
Sara reached for her camera and aimed it after the departing bus.
“What?” she said, a little defensively. “I liked the color.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Sam held up his hands.
After they had crossed the street, Sara stashed her camera back in her shoulder bag. “So that thing with Jess—what was that all about?”
“It’s what I do,” he said, lifting one shoulder and one side of his mouth.
She shook her head. “You help strangers with impossible tasks?”
“I help friends with adventures.”
“Semantics.”
“Truth.”
She hesitated, looking back toward the front façade of 24 Frames. “Am I in an adventure, then?” she asked. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the strands into a smooth column and then brushing the entire thing over her shoulder. He wondered if she knew what that did to the line of her neck.
“At the risk of sounding like a motivational poster, life is an adventure.”
“And the price of an adventure is a sugar packet? What’s the story behind that?”
Sam’s half smile grew. “A few months ago, I told Jess I could get anything I wanted, and usually for less than the marked price. She didn’t believe me, so I explained that it was all about trading.”
“Trading? Like how you wanted to trade stories with me?”
“A little. It’s more like you give up something small that someone needs for something better that someone else wants. If you keep things circulating, eventually you’ll get what you want. Take and trade. Trade and transfer.” He turned left at the corner, and Sara stayed in step with him.
“And that’s how you get what you want?”
A
“I told you before—I’m not walking away.”
“Why not? This is so clearly not your problem.”
She looked down at her feet. “Maybe not, but I still feel responsible.” She swallowed. “I know I don’t have to do this for Piper, but if I don’t, then, on some level, I feel like she’ll be disappointed in me. And I hate that. I know that probably makes me sound crazy, but I just . . . I just don’t want it to be my fault. Especially when I could have done something to prevent it.” She shook her head, her hair shivering over her shoulders. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
A point of cold threaded its way through Sam’s belly, reaching up through his chest. He swallowed hard, forcing his thoughts to stay still even as his body continued to move forward.
“You don’t sound crazy,” he said, grateful that his voice didn’t break.
“Really? Because I kind of feel crazy.”
He shrugged, the cold fading deeper into his bones to the point where he could almost ignore it. “That’s New York for you. This city inspires its own kind of crazy.”
She laughed, light and clear. “I like it, though. So, do you think we can do this? Can we find what we need and save your job? Together?”
He smiled. “Count me in, partner.”
A matching smile appeared on her face as fast and as bright as lightning before she tucked it away. But the glow remained in her eyes. “In that case, partner, do you have a plan for how we can find whatever it is that will make Piper happy?” she asked.
“I don’t know of anything that will make Piper truly happy, but I think I know where we should start looking.”
“Where’s that?”
“St. John’s Cathedral.”
“Are you saying we’re going to need a miracle?” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “Divine intervention?”
“Not exactly.” He grinned. “Though it couldn’t hurt. C’mon. It’s not far.”
They paused at the corner as a large red double-decker bus barreled past, the tourists on the top deck snapping pictures right and left. Sam shook his head. The pictures would probably all turn out blurry, but that was tourists for you. Too busy to stop and actually see the sights.
Sara reached for her camera and aimed it after the departing bus.
“What?” she said, a little defensively. “I liked the color.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Sam held up his hands.
After they had crossed the street, Sara stashed her camera back in her shoulder bag. “So that thing with Jess—what was that all about?”
“It’s what I do,” he said, lifting one shoulder and one side of his mouth.
She shook her head. “You help strangers with impossible tasks?”
“I help friends with adventures.”
“Semantics.”
“Truth.”
She hesitated, looking back toward the front façade of 24 Frames. “Am I in an adventure, then?” she asked. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the strands into a smooth column and then brushing the entire thing over her shoulder. He wondered if she knew what that did to the line of her neck.
“At the risk of sounding like a motivational poster, life is an adventure.”
“And the price of an adventure is a sugar packet? What’s the story behind that?”
Sam’s half smile grew. “A few months ago, I told Jess I could get anything I wanted, and usually for less than the marked price. She didn’t believe me, so I explained that it was all about trading.”
“Trading? Like how you wanted to trade stories with me?”
“A little. It’s more like you give up something small that someone needs for something better that someone else wants. If you keep things circulating, eventually you’ll get what you want. Take and trade. Trade and transfer.” He turned left at the corner, and Sara stayed in step with him.
“And that’s how you get what you want?”
A
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