Page 57
Story: Freckles
He smacks his lips. “Two thousand for both.”
“Twenty-five hundred and I’ll need another phone.”
He grabs a twenty-nine-dollar burner from a hook behind him. “Twenty-two and that’s my best offer.”
“Throw in a twenty-buck top up card and it’s a deal.”
After a second’s pause, he nods, scanning a card and adding it to the phone. “You got a deal.”
I pocket the cash, insert my SIM and type in the top up code, then find the contact’s number again and dial.
Our last conversation went off course, but this anonymous man has to come through for me.
I don’t have anywhere else to go.
The moment the phone clicks, I start talking. “Two thousand to resume the first job. No extras. Just dispose of the freezer with two grand worth of apology for making you reschedule.”
He doesn’t stop to think about it. He doesn’t even draw breath. “Call this number again and I’ll send four men to your home to make sure you understand why it’s a bad idea.”
The dial tone sounds in my ear.
My eyes close as I fight to contain my emotions. Part of me wants to mash my thumb on the call button, to get him on the line and keep him there until he understands.
But he does understand, that’s the problem.
He understands and doesn’t care.
“If you need more,” the man behind the counter calls, “perhaps we can come to some arrangement.” He licks his already wet lips and hitches up the belt hidden beneath his overflowing beer belly.
A wave of nausea rolls through me, sweat beading on my forehead.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I say, running from the store and back to my car, slamming the lock once I’m inside.
I’m back to doing the job myself unless… I stare blankly out the window.
Unless I run. Toss my fate to the wind and go.
I’ve resisted that option, scared the police will track me down, but also because I’ve been unwilling to trash my dreams for the future. As a frightened child, I spent hours staring at the stars, syncing my ambition with my yearning for escape.
But if a sacrifice is needed… better to give up my dreams than my life. I can always find a new goal.
I drive home, sickness still rolling in my stomach, the discomfort settling into cramps like I’ve got my period. There’s a pile of delivery boxes at the front door and I kick them out of my way, not caring what’s inside.
The last thing I want is to increase my debt to Kincaid. I’d rather spend the rest of the day pretending he doesn’t exist.
After filling a hot water bottle to the brim, I cradle it against my abdomen to numb the cramping and curl in bed with a book, happy to escape into fantasy worlds.
And when awful thoughts flicker in my head, I put my hand beneath my pillow to touch the knife handle and remind myself that I’m a girl who can do very bad things.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
KINCAID
I remainin school through the afternoon, waiting to see if Francesca returns to class, filtering through potential punishments if she doesn’t.
Aidan sat through lunch with a face like a sad puppy. It would be amusing if their friendship wasn’t such an irritation. I try to imagine how he’ll react if she tells him everything, not sure if the proxy threat of my uncle’s wrath is enough for her to stay silent.
She hasn’t breathed a word so far, but it’s early days. She’s in shock, still adjusting, but I already know she isn’t a coward. Once the fog clears, she could easily rally his support.
“Twenty-five hundred and I’ll need another phone.”
He grabs a twenty-nine-dollar burner from a hook behind him. “Twenty-two and that’s my best offer.”
“Throw in a twenty-buck top up card and it’s a deal.”
After a second’s pause, he nods, scanning a card and adding it to the phone. “You got a deal.”
I pocket the cash, insert my SIM and type in the top up code, then find the contact’s number again and dial.
Our last conversation went off course, but this anonymous man has to come through for me.
I don’t have anywhere else to go.
The moment the phone clicks, I start talking. “Two thousand to resume the first job. No extras. Just dispose of the freezer with two grand worth of apology for making you reschedule.”
He doesn’t stop to think about it. He doesn’t even draw breath. “Call this number again and I’ll send four men to your home to make sure you understand why it’s a bad idea.”
The dial tone sounds in my ear.
My eyes close as I fight to contain my emotions. Part of me wants to mash my thumb on the call button, to get him on the line and keep him there until he understands.
But he does understand, that’s the problem.
He understands and doesn’t care.
“If you need more,” the man behind the counter calls, “perhaps we can come to some arrangement.” He licks his already wet lips and hitches up the belt hidden beneath his overflowing beer belly.
A wave of nausea rolls through me, sweat beading on my forehead.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I say, running from the store and back to my car, slamming the lock once I’m inside.
I’m back to doing the job myself unless… I stare blankly out the window.
Unless I run. Toss my fate to the wind and go.
I’ve resisted that option, scared the police will track me down, but also because I’ve been unwilling to trash my dreams for the future. As a frightened child, I spent hours staring at the stars, syncing my ambition with my yearning for escape.
But if a sacrifice is needed… better to give up my dreams than my life. I can always find a new goal.
I drive home, sickness still rolling in my stomach, the discomfort settling into cramps like I’ve got my period. There’s a pile of delivery boxes at the front door and I kick them out of my way, not caring what’s inside.
The last thing I want is to increase my debt to Kincaid. I’d rather spend the rest of the day pretending he doesn’t exist.
After filling a hot water bottle to the brim, I cradle it against my abdomen to numb the cramping and curl in bed with a book, happy to escape into fantasy worlds.
And when awful thoughts flicker in my head, I put my hand beneath my pillow to touch the knife handle and remind myself that I’m a girl who can do very bad things.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
KINCAID
I remainin school through the afternoon, waiting to see if Francesca returns to class, filtering through potential punishments if she doesn’t.
Aidan sat through lunch with a face like a sad puppy. It would be amusing if their friendship wasn’t such an irritation. I try to imagine how he’ll react if she tells him everything, not sure if the proxy threat of my uncle’s wrath is enough for her to stay silent.
She hasn’t breathed a word so far, but it’s early days. She’s in shock, still adjusting, but I already know she isn’t a coward. Once the fog clears, she could easily rally his support.
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