Pivot (The Jack Harper Trilogy Book 1)

  * * *

  Margaret took me to my car - not too far from the church - and she dropped me off from her limo - the likes of which I had only seen in Cyrus's grasp. It was almost like arriving back to reality from a cruise ship. A very nice, leather interior, clinking, sparkling, soothing cruise ship, with music and whiskey.

  When I opened the door to step out, I thanked her for everything.

  Margaret laughed, and it sounded so innocent, so womanly. "Jack, dear. Hear me now. What you are makes up for what you're not. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes," I said. "I think so."

  "No matter what you've done, what has been done to you, you can step out of it."

  I peered at her.

  She smiled. "Look... here's my card," and she handed me what appeared to be a business card the color of bone. I read her name, number, and address. "You call me," she said, "No matter the time. No matter the day. No matter if you feel like you're in too much trouble for me to handle. You call me, or you stop by. Okay?"

  At first I didn't know what to say, but then, finally, I settled on the truth. "I probably won't call you, but... I'll keep the card. In case."

  "Really," she said, "there's no reason not to."

  I nodded, put her card in my inside jacket pocket next to the heroin, and said goodbye. I stepped out of the car and into the bright world, walked the few steps to my car, got in, closed the door, sighed, and watched the limo drive away. I remembered how I did not trust the wealthy, but how they nevertheless flocked to me. And then I thought of how Margaret, in every way, had destroyed my assumptions about them. Not only this, but how she had destroyed every way in which I knew the world worked.

  It made me ready.

  I went home, I packed my sister's bags, and that night, I sent her on her way, entrusting her with the stick shift to drive like I had taught her, to get herself there. Or at least to get far out of the city, and then to call her father. I kissed her and hugged her, and she cried, and the night she drove away, I cried, too, but, it was done.

  I was so glad I had prepared piecemeal, like I knew before I knew. The list had gone on and on: teach her to drive, find the address, keep the tank full. Just in case.

  I had wanted it before I wanted it. And then, all that was needed...

  Margaret had made blood ooze out of the paper of life. She had awakened me, and I saw all.