Hold Me Like a Breath by Tiffany Schmidt Read Free Book Online

change things up, or we’ll be swallowed by the Zhus and the Vickers.”
    â€œThe Zhus are on the West Coast, the Vickers are in Texas—I hardly feel like they’re about to raid New England and steal our patients.”
    â€œTrue,” said Garrett. “But if the Organ Act passes and donation becomes legalized, what’s going to happen to us? We need a backup plan.”
    This might’ve been a time when I could’ve explained
exactly
what I thought would happen if H.R. 197—aka the Organ Act—miraculously managed to become a law: we’d become a legal industry. Yes, we’d lose significant money per surgery because of the proposed price regulations, but we’d also be able to slash our overhead, cut costs on security and payoffs.
    But that conversation would be endless, and I wanted more answers. “The Organ Act has been stuck in subcommittees for forever. That’s not an immediate threat.”
    â€œFine,” said Garrett. “But the Everlys are doing their best to poach our client list, which is dangerous for everyone and another reason we need to innovate.”
    â€œBut Carter just said they weren’t a threat! And what’s the
innovation
that’s in the trunk?”
    There was a long silence. Garrett played with the stereo; he even turned on the
Once Upon a Mattress
score … which lasted a whole thirty seconds before Carter changed it. I stared at the back of their seats. Standing, they were the same heights, but Garrett’s shoulders were broader, and Carter was built like Father, all long legs, so seated he looked shorter.
    â€œIs anyone going to answer me? Don’t stop now, it was finally getting interesting.”
    There was another silence, an exchange of looks. It ended in Garrett swearing under his breath and Carter changing lanes a little too aggressively.
    â€œLet’s make a deal,” he said. “I’ll drop you and Gare off to pick up dinner, then park and use the bathroom. You guys can meet me, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
    â€œMeet you
where
?”
    He grinned. “Remember in middle school when Gare and I had that clubhouse and you were desperate to come in? Well, here’s your chance to see our latest hideaway—we’ve upgraded a bit since then. So … deal?”
    It wasn’t like I really had a choice, but at least he was pretending I did. “On one condition,” I said. “I want pizza. The greasy, delicious kind you see in every NYC movie.”

Chapter 4
    Carter said he had the “perfect spot,” and I expected somewhere in Little Italy or one of the restaurants I’d seen on a Food Network show, but he dropped us outside a narrow pizza place in Harlem, a couple of blocks past the Apollo Theater. It was loud, busy, crowded with customers—and corners: on the tables, freezer cases, counters. The type of chaos that made Garrett extra-vigilant and me hyper-aware of the distance between my body and all potential bruisers while we waited for our slices to be heated, tossed on paper plates, and slid into a brown paper bag.
    I exhaled my relief when Garrett opened the restaurant’s door and we stepped into the night. I pulled out my phone and opened my favorite NYC map app, adding a flag to mark our spot.
    â€œI’m dying to see your ‘secret clubhouse’—does this one have Spiderman posters too?” As I skipped down the sidewalk, thetoe of my shoe hit a piece of broken bottle and sent it tinkling off into the shadows.
    â€œPut your phone away.” His expression was tight. “Stay close to me.”
    I understood that order. We walked past cracked windows and graffiti, around split garbage bags and the huddled shapes of the homeless. It was very different
being here
versus playing with virtual maps—marking walks I hoped to take in some distant, healthy future and planning someday visits to landmarks and museums.