Page 49 of A Love Most Fatal

“What happens if they think I don’t?”

“You lose their respect,” Vanessa says from her seat. She’s staring at the screen with her lips curled in an approximation of disgust at the men listed.

“Sure, makes sense,” I mutter.

The next slide has no pictures, but at least 40 more names. I recognize some from the list Vanessa showed me earlier this week.

“Tier two, these are the men that are less appealing, but we still must consider as to not upset the family.”

“Dear God,” Vanessa rubs her temples. “Mom, you really want me to consider marrying Ricardo Guerra? Be serious.”

“His uncle is in charge of the shipyard, stupid, you’re going to consider him,” Mary says, and Vanessa sighs. I write that down in my journal.

“Go on,” Vanessa nods at Willa.

“There’s some shorthand you’re going to need to know,” Willa says. “But before I go on, we must be clear that this is all incredibly sensitive information and if you tell anyone outside of this room what you’ve learned, go to the police, or otherwise disseminate this information, we are not liable for what may or may not happen to you. Not to mention the NDA.”

I clear my throat, trying not to choke at this, and then nod. I signed the document before dinner after spending too many hours trying to parse through the legal jargon.

“Okay,” I say.

“I need confirmation, yes or no,” Willa says.

“Yes,” I say, “I mean—no, I won’t tell anyone. Yes, you can, uh, trust me.”

Willa and Vanessa share a look before Willa goes on.

On the screen now are several letter codes.

Without going too deep into the specifics of the business, Willa briefly explains each code: Rx is pharmaceuticals, which relies on SH (shipping and handling), transit, and distribution. Then there are codes for tech, construction, weapons, gambling, and explosives. I try to jot down the codes and their meanings, but there are so many, and they all seem to rely on at least three others.

Willa explains that everyone has a job, sometimes two, and they need to feel heard to keep doing those jobs. Quite a few men on the marriage list do not expressly have a job in one of these sectors but are the nephews of people who do. For instance, bottom of tier one is Romeo, whose father is a coroner—best in the city, only one they trust.

“Everyone is connected,” Willa says, “and each folder has a list of connections for you to familiarize yourself with. The tech guys are smarter than the shipping and handling guys and you’re going to need to tailor your questions accordingly.”

I have no idea how I will do that, but I nod and scribble a note of it.

“Everybody is important, and they need to feel valued. That’s how the ship moves, how people carry on. Howwemake money sotheycan make money to provide for their families.”

“Right, makes sense,” I say.

“Ultimately, we’re all family,” Vanessa says. “And family takes care of family.”

This is veryFast & Furiousof her, but I don’t mention it.

“Next we need to talk about you,” Willa says, and the next slide has a photo of me on it. It’s from last year’s faculty and staffChristmas party, Jenna and me with matching hideous sweaters and margaritas.Did she pull this from my Facebook?

I’m trying not to feel like my privacy has been violated, but when Leo and Mary both snicker it’s hard not to get defensive.

“As a teacher, you have an endearing style,” Willa explains. “You’re very easy to trust, like you’ve never been to a dry cleaner, and you’ve had the same loafers since college. Kids love that.”

She sounds so genuine, but I am pretty sure that cannot, in any world, be a real compliment.

“For these meetings, you’ll need to adopt a new look.” The next slide is a collage of men pulled from various fashion advertisements—a vision board for a classier, sleeker me.

Amidst the smoldering faces, I see shiny black shoes, black fitted suits, button ups showing far too much chest, veiny arms with thick watches, and intimidating hands with rings adorning more than one finger. Also, the hair is always sleek, kempt, gelled back, not a curl in sight.

I peer down at my own hands, wide palms and long slender fingers, which are kind of knobby at the knuckles, if I’m being honest. You put a big watch on me, and it will look absurd.