You First: A Joe Goldberg Prequel (You, #0)(74)

Harris Wesley Walker IV is a prick. A prick who took advantage of you. Better yet, my love, Harris Wesley Walker IV will pay for what he did to you. He will pay because of me—my forebears were ragpickers—and by the time I’m done with him, his face will be a rag. Bloodied. Torn. I swallow and flinch. Would I? Could I?

It’s funny, Vail. A lot of authors touch on the fact that hostage negotiators will say the name of a hostage because it humanizes the hostage, because it makes the kidnapper remember that the hostage is a person.

And as it turns out, authors don’t know everything, because sometimes, sometimes when you say a name, when you know a name, sometimes it makes you want to kill them even more.





27


Don’t worry, Vail. I know I can’t “kill” Harris Wesley Walker IV. My dad didn’t go to Dalton, and in the event of a trial, I’d be stuck with some hapless public defender. Besides…Murder? Not my style. I wouldn’t want to kill him or anyone even if Daddy could get me out of it.

But I am going to find the fourth-generation fucking knockoff. I am gonna get to the bottom of that yellow fucking hat. I wish I didn’t have to work today. Mooney is in a mood. He just lit another cigar—ugh—and it’s not fair. I don’t belong here. Not anymore. I don’t need books or advice or a smoke trap. I need to leave. I need to hunt Harris Wesley Walker IV.

“Joseph,” he says. “You can relax.”

Nope. Not yet. “Okay…”

“I am not mad at you. I’m not your father, Joseph. I am not ‘disappointed.’?” He leans forward. “I am disgusted.”

Does he know about Dalton? “Okay. Okay, sorry. I can explain.”

“Impossible, Joseph. Unless you know what you did….”

Uh-oh. I didn’t fucking “do” anything. I walked into a school. I didn’t steal. And no one can punish you for killing a family of dickheads in your head. “I know I fucked up.”

“Language, Joseph.”

I do not say sorry. I am fighting for my life.

“I received a phone call today, young man.”

Can you go to prison for going to a library? Am I fucked? “Okay…”

“I received a phone call from our friend Angus Kaplan.”

Wait. Angus? “Okay…”

“Joseph, do you think I am a stupid man?”

It feels good to tell the truth, to be direct. “No. You’re the smartest guy I know.”

“Well, you don’t know that many men, now do you, Joseph?”

I hang my head. You know a lot of men, Vail. You know Harris Wesley Walker IV. I know four men—Dumb and Dumber, Dick and Schlitz—unless you count Mooney, which I don’t, not right now. “Mr. Mooney, whatever that Philistine said…” Pause and give the boss man a second to remember that Kaplan is an asshole. Someone we hate. “Whatever he said, I can explain.”

He spits in his ashtray, and all the trash trucks in New York City take a dump on me. He is crying. I made him cry. He doesn’t do that, he doesn’t cry, and what the fucking fuck have I done? “I’d like to see you try, Joseph. I’d like to see you try to defend stealing from me, running a business behind my back, stealing from a customer, and breaking into said customer’s abode to have sexual relations with a woman who doesn’t even like you, let alone love you.”

Oh fuck. The cat clawed its way out of the bag. “I can make it up to you.”

“No, dear boy, you can’t. I have taken you under my wing. Your actions reflect on my person, my business. This is the real world, young man.”

It’s another fucking loss. A hit when I’m down. I can’t lose my job, and I’m not on my knees begging but I’m close. “Mr. Mooney, please…I’m sorry. I can apologize to him. I can work for free, and I can…I know I screwed up, but that’s on me and I can fix it.”

A single tear rolls down his left cheek, and it may as well be blood. The old man really did think of himself as my father. He trusted me. All you adults, you and Mooney, you’re the same. You say the opposite of what you feel. There’s no way around it, Vail. I killed him, the man who gave me a job, the man who tried to teach me everything he knows. I want to bring him back to life and I want a world where Mooney doesn’t cry and then the door opens and oh no.

Oh shit.

It’s you.

You don’t look happy to see me and you can’t be here. Mr. Mooney hates you, and you can’t see him cry. He rises out of his chair. “Get out of this office, woman.”

You ignore him like that’s allowed and I reach for you and you push me off like I’m bad news, like I’m Harris Wesley Walker the Fucking Fourth. “Outside, Joe. There is no way I am having this conversation in front of that monster.”

Mr. Mooney cackles, and you don’t get it. You can’t see him cry. It would be better if you walked in on him jacking off. “I will meet you outside in five minutes, Vail.”

You balk, and Mooney pounds his desk. “You will do no such thing, Joseph. And you…” That’s to you. “You are not welcome in this shop, young lady.”

“And you are not welcome to speak to me like I’m your fucking child.” And then you look at me. “Let’s go. Let’s go right now or else.”