The Matching Game. Everyone Knew The Answer. Except Me novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Chain on the Door

The bank can't undo the transfer; Vicki packs Carson's things and shuts the door on all of them in front of her neighbor, and by one in the morning Cass's public video of her humiliation has forty-one thousand views and tags her hotel.

I called the bank from the curb, with my coat held shut over the gold dress.

The man on the overnight line was kind and quick.

"Ma'am, it's a joint account. Either holder can move money out. If Mr. Rooke authorized the transfer, I can't reverse it tonight."

"It's my money," I said. "I put almost all of it in."

"I understand. You can come in to a branch on Monday and open a review."

I thanked him and hung up before my voice could crack.

Then I took a cab to Lakewood, because on every birthday the game went on at the loser's place.

That was the tradition. The odd one out hosted the after-party.

I let myself into the apartment I had signed the lease on four years ago, alone, in my name only.

I did not turn on the music.

I took two black trash bags and a duffel from the hall closet.

Carson owned less than I had thought. His sweaters, his laptop charger, the good razor, a framed photo of him and Elias at sixteen.

It took twenty-five minutes to pack it all.

I was setting the last bag by the door when I heard the elevator.

Then voices on the landing, loud and easy, the way they always were.

A key turned in the lock and the door stopped against the chain.

"Vic?" Carson called. "You put the chain on."

I walked over and looked through the gap.

Carson stood in front, still in his birthday sweater. Cass was beside him, holding the cake box from the restaurant.

Ben was behind her, phone down for once. Elias stood last, against the far wall of the landing, hands in his pockets.

"We're not doing this through a door," Cass said gently. "Let us in, Vic. Let's talk like adults."

"Where's the money, Carson?"

He sighed, the patient sigh. "It's the House Fund. It's ours. It's for the next place."

"The next place in Denver."

"Where we're going to live, yes."

"Who is we?"

Nobody answered that.

Across the landing, my neighbor's door opened a few inches. She stood in her robe with her arms folded, watching.

"It was twenty-two thousand dollars, Carson," I said. "I put in twenty-one of it."

"Everything you earn goes toward us," Carson said. "That was always the idea."

"Us," I said.

Cass shifted the cake box to her other arm. "Vic, honestly. You would have guessed if you'd been paying attention. That's all this ever was."

I looked at her.

She had stood at my bedside after my appendix came out. She had cut my hair the night before my first interview.

"Cass, how long?"

"It doesn't matter how long."

"It matters to me."

"See, this is the thing," Cass said, and her eyes filled. "You're making it hard, and we didn't want it hard."

Ben stared at the carpet.

I undid the chain.

Cass started to step forward, and I held my hand out flat to Carson instead.

"Key."

He looked at the hand. Then he worked the apartment key off his ring and set it on my palm.

"Vic, I have to sleep somewhere."

"You have somewhere to sleep," I said.

I pushed the first trash bag through the doorway. Then the second. Then the duffel.

Ben picked up the duffel automatically.

Carson stood there with a bag at each foot.

"The cake's chocolate," Cass said, small and wet. "It's your favorite."

"Keep it," I said. "You paid for it with my money."

My neighbor let out a short, sharp laugh and shut her door.

Carson's jaw tightened. For the first time all night his voice dropped the softness.

"You're embarrassing yourself."

"Probably," I said. "Good night."

I shut the door and put the chain back on.

I stood with my forehead against the wood and listened to them go.

Cass's heels. Carson's low voice, saying something about me being unstable.

Ben's quiet "Guys." Then nothing.

A moment later there was one more knock, very soft, at the bottom of the door.

"Vicki."

It was Elias.

I didn't answer.

"Use the bottom lock too," he said through the wood. "The deadbolt sticks. Turn it all the way."

I looked down.

I had not thrown the deadbolt.

I turned it until it clicked.

His boots went down the stairs without another word.

I took off the gold dress and stood in the shower until the water ran cold.

At one in the morning I was on the bed in a t-shirt, my phone lit up on my knees.

A coworker from the hotel had sent me a link with no message.

It was a video on Cass's public page, from tonight.

Ben had filmed all of it. The napkins, the applause, Carson's hand on Cass's, and me holding my napkin up with my chin lifted.

Cass had cut it to end the second I said "Fine."

Her caption said: Nine years of this game and she still never gets it. We love you anyway, Vic.

Forty-one thousand people had watched it.

Someone had tagged the Lakefront Grand Hotel, where I worked, and written: Is this your banquet coordinator?

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