Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
He probably didn’t mean for me to be there pretty much daily that summer. But that was what he got. A little nine-year-old nuisance that he had to cook for constantly. Who had a million questions about all the places he’d seen.
“The thing was, I think it meant as much to him as it meant to me,” I told Cato. “He had nobody. And it seemed like he’d been lonely for a really long time.”
“Can’t imagine his line of work allowed for a lot of close friendships. What with his entire identity often being a lie.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
I think, to an extent, he forgot how to be a normal human being with connections. Little ol’ me reminded him how to do that.
Eventually, he realized that I wasn’t the typical young kid, that I was obsessed with dark themes, that I would always pick a thriller or horror movie over something geared toward my age group.
Then he would slip up, little by little, while we watched those movies, telling me all the ways that the plots or action or fight scenes were inaccurate. Sometimes, we would even recreate the scenes to show me how it was possible to bring about the desired result.
And, of course, I was a curious kid.
How did he know all of that?
Where did he learn it?
Could he teach me?
That was when he told me—carefully, of course—about his previous job.
“Secrets, munchkin, are a universal currency.”
“That always stuck with me,” I admitted to Cato.
“It’s a fucking good line,” Cato agreed.
“I didn’t understand him at first, of course.”
It wasn’t until he taught me to start observing people, watching him the way he saw them, that it started to click for me.
The neighbor across the hall suddenly started working out, dressing better, and got a stylish haircut. Why would he do that, munchkin?
I would come up with several theories until he taught me to hone in on the fact that people did things for very, very basic, universal reasons.
Love.
Money.
Power.
Revenge.
“Changing his appearance won’t give him any money,” he’d insisted. “It could give him power, but not in his line of work. And the only person who changing his appearance would get revenge on is an ex. He’s married.”
Then it clicked.
He was cheating on his wife.
Sure enough, as I started to watch him more myself, even without my uncle, I saw the signs. The way he would stay out late, then come home, spraying himself in his car with his cologne. How he would take a walk to the corner store to call the girl where his wife wouldn’t overhear.
I took that information and applied it to life. To school. To classmates.
Everyone, it seemed to me, had secrets.
And if you learned how to use them to your advantage, you could get anything you wanted.
“That was how you came up with the idea to blackmail your father.”
“Yeah. I was a master at small manipulations by then. I even managed to fuck over my mom here and there. Much to my delight. That makes me sound like a bitch…”
“Your ma didn’t even make sure there was enough food for you in the house before she took off, leaving you alone, baby. I think she had whatever you did to her coming.”
It was nothing big.
Just petty things.
Little ways of getting her back when she had done little but fuck me over and blame me for everything my entire life.
“What about your uncle?” Cato asked.
“Little by little over the years, his paranoia got to him. Fucked with his head. Which led to drugs and then, a while later, a fatal overdose.”
“Fuck, Rynn. I’m sorry.”
Luckily, mercifully, I hadn’t been the one to find him. He’d just so happened to have maintenance scheduled the day after he overdosed. They found him, called the police, told my mom, who then told me.
“Your uncle is dead.”
That was all she’d said.
Like the man hadn’t been my only father figure. My only parent for years.
“Turns out he wasn’t just paranoid, though,” I told Cato.
“What do you mean?”
“The day after he died, a small crew of men went into his apartment, tossing the entire place, and coming back with some sort of file folder.”
Who knew whose secrets were in there.
I wish he’d told me about it.
I would have gotten rid of it for him.
Or, maybe, all that was in there was blackmail to keep the bad guys from getting too close. And once he was gone, it no longer mattered anymore.
“So, you… use what he taught you?” Cato asked, circling me back to the point.
“Yes. After blackmailing my father with his own secrets, I saw all the ways secrets could make me money. Over time, I built up a name for myself. Then I opened my consulting business.”
“Who hires you?”
“Anyone who wants to find out secrets about other people. Spouses who want to see if their partner is fucking around. Businessmen who want dirt on rivals. And, increasingly, less than… reputable organizations who want something to use against other such types of organizations.”