Page 67 of Almost Beautiful (Beautiful 3)

“What are they going to do?” Parker asked, standing. “I’ll walk you to your car, Abby.” He pulled at the lapel of his jacket and puffed out his chest.

Ricky and Justin seemed relieved.

I stared at him for a moment, unable to hide my disdain. “I just took all of your money, Parker. What about that do you think screamsalpha maleto me?”

Parker blinked a few times. “How was I to know you were raised among thugs and miscreants? I’ve tried to make amends with you, but who knows why. You’ve proven over and over you’re …”

“One of the peasants? Yes, Parker, we can’t all be born and bred from fancy Olive Garden money.”

“Fancy Olive …? You can’t be serious. You’re the one who came to me for help!”

I crossed my arms and smirked. “Yes, and now everything that was in your wallet is in mine. Thanks for the help. Not bad for a girl, right?”

Parker snarled. “There’s a lot more where that came from. More than I can say for your gutter rat husband.”

“Good. Meet me at Collin’s next game and I’ll take that, too.”

Parker swallowed.

I flicked my index and middle fingers at him. “Run along. Mother is surely worried.”

Parker buttoned his jacket and set out in a huff, red-faced and humiliated.

“Are you really going to Collin’s game?” Ricky asked. He followed me out, closely tailed by Justin.

“No, and neither are you. You suck at poker.”

“I’m telling you, Abby, we’ll pay you. Five days, tops,” Justin said, his tone nearly begging.

“I’m not a bank. I don’t do loans.”

Justin wrung his hands. “M-maybe we can come up with some kind of an arrangement? We have a lot of connections. We could get you concert tickets, jobs, whatever you want. And that’s in addition to the money we owe you.”

“I’m a newly married woman. I’m only interested in the cash. You have twelve hours. And you heard Collin. Where I come from, you play poker, you pay. If you don’t, I’m making a phone call.”

“Twelve hours to come up with four thousand dollars? C’mon, Abby! There must be something!” Ricky pleaded.

I reached my car and then turned on my heels. “Actually … maybe there is.”

“Anything,” Ricky said.

“I’ll tell you what. You stop investigating the fire, and I won’t have the Gambinos feed you what remain of your fingers.”

“We won’t … that’s easy enough. So, that will satisfy our debt? In full?” Ricky asked. He was sweating, approaching panic.

“No more questions,” I said. “To anyone.”

They traded glances and then nodded.

“The story’s dead,” Justin said.

I made a face. “The campus paper not reporting on the fire? Don’t be stupid. No, you write the story, acknowledge the rumor and that the police and Feds have been questioning whether Travis was there, and confirm that he wasn’t.”

“Absolutely,” Ricky said. “It’ll run on Monday.”

I smiled, patting Ricky on the cheek. “Nice doing business with you.”

I sat in the driver’s seat and closed the door, watching Justin and Ricky walk away in the side mirror. My plan had worked, and I’d even made rent for the next month. I’d thought that bad feeling I’d had would go away, but it didn’t.