Read Ravens for Free Online Page B

to do this with me, I mean if you want to
live
, well I mean, we
will
change the world.”
    Romeo said, “What do you need?” Because he was terrified, it came out as a croak — but he said it.
    “I don’t mean just change our lives,” said Shaw. “I mean change the whole fucking world.”
    “What do you need, Shaw?”
    “I need you to play kind of a role. Like what you’d call
angel of vengeance
. You ready for that?”
    Tara found the whole thing amusing. The way Dad had to work so hard to maintain his air of righteous outrage. The way Jase had
     to pretend he was really chastened: tucking into infancy, burrowing his head between Mom’s shoulder and the couch. “Caleb
swore
he wouldn’t tell. I made him
swear
, Dad.”
    Said Dad, “But you promised us, Jase. You gave us your word you’d keep your trap shut. Remember? You weren’t gonna tell anyone
     about the jackpot. Anyone.”
    “So I’m
sorry
.”
    Serene in his brattiness because he knew he was in the clear. He wouldn’t be punished
tonight
. Dad’s lecture came out sounding formal and half-hearted. “Well now I’m sure it’s all over town. I hope you learned something.
     This is a tough world, and it’s going to get a lot tougher. Get this into your head now — trust your family and your faith
     and nothing else. You hear me?”
    “I said I was
sorry
.”
    “You better pray no reporter gets hold of this.”
    “Dad?”
    “What.”
    “If we buy a mansion on the beach? Can I get a Jet Ski?”
    Tara had to smile. Poor Dad, compelled to wind himself up again: “ARE YOU HEARING A WORD I’M SAYING?”
    Naturally Jase started snuffling again — but Mom smoothed his head and murmured, “Oh, of course you can have a Jet Ski.”
    “What are you
telling
him?”
    “For God’s sake, Mitch. We’re gonna be trillionaires. It won’t kill him to have a Jet Ski.”
    Tara laughed. “Then can
I
get a Jet Ski? Can I get a Jet Ski made of pure gold?”
    “Just stop it,” said Dad.
    Jase said, “I don’t care if mine’s made of gold or not. I just want a fast one.”
    Tara said, “Yeah, I also want fast. But I mostly want gold. And amphibious. I think it’s only fair —”
    Jase took the bait. “If
she
gets an amphibious Jet Ski, I should get —”
    “NOBODY’S GETTING A JET SKI!” Dad thundered.
    Then he shook his head slowly and sighed. “Or, I don’t know. What the heck. Let’s
all
get Jet Skis.”
    It was an astonishing thing for Tara, to see her whole family laughing at once. She couldn’t remember the last time this had
     happened. More of this jackpot magic — more of these waves of bliss and wide-open freedom.
    Mom went into the kitchen to make herself a little drink, and Dad started telling them about this financial guy he’d met today
     — some big muckety from Sea Island, and also some big lawyer from Atlanta; and the jackpot ticket was in the safety deposit
     box so that was taken care of; and tomorrow he’d arrange with some security firm about bodyguards because they’d probably
     need them, at least for the first few weeks —
    The doorbell rang.
    Dad said, “Oh Lord. Already? If that’s a reporter. I swear, Jase, if that’s a reporter
already
—”
    Tara answered the door. A young man: late twenties, kind of pallid, ungainly, and his corduroy jacket didn’t fit him well.
     But he had a nice smile. And he knew her name. “Hello, Tara.”
    “Who are you?”
    “Bill Rooney,” he said. He flashed his ID. “Georgia Lottery Commission. Your folks around?”
    Dad was already at her shoulder. “What can I do for you?”
    “My name’s Bill Rooney.” The ID said,
William B. Rooney. Agent. Georgia State Lottery Commission.
“May I come in for a moment?”
    Dad was nervous. “I thought we were supposed to come to you. Anyway how do you — why would you think
we’re
the winners —”
    Rooney laughed. “None of my business, Mr. Boatwright. I’m just here to share a little advice in case you
should
win