Page 54 of Jaked

Behind me, Carlie glanced toward the front register. "I'm going to, uh, check on something," she said, "I'll be back in five minutes, okay?"

"Don't bother," Bianca said. "We're leaving." She gave Carlie a scornful look. "And I hope you realize, you're not getting a tip for this."

I narrowed my gaze. "Yes, she is," I said.

"Really?" Bianca said, meeting my gaze in the mirror. "With whose money?"

I glanced down at my purse, where Jake's money – what little remained – was folded up in an inside pocket. I opened my mouth, hoping for a snappy comeback. Nothing came out.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bianca said with an overly sweet smile. "I forgot. You're a charity case." She gave a condescending laugh. "I guess it's easy to be generous when you're not the one paying. Isn't it?"

I whirled around and pushed up from the chair. I faced Bianca head-on, trying to control my rapid breathing. I gave her hair a good, long look. "So," I said, "who paid for yours?"

She drew back. "What'sthatsupposed to mean?"

Around us, the salon had grown oddly quiet. Carlie looked from me to Bianca. I glanced around, hoping for something, anything to fill the deathly silence. And then, something did – a low, rumbling noise that seemed to fill the whole salon.

My stomach.

I wanted to die of embarrassment.

Silently, Carlie reached past me. She opened a side drawer on her station. She pulled out a granola bar and handed it over. I glanced around. Everyone was staring. At me. I blinked long and hard before turning to Carlie.

"Thanks," I said, "I'll, uh, just eat this in the car."

But I didn't. Sitting in the back seat, food was the last thing on my mind. Between the stress of the day and uncertainty over what I'd find at Jake's place, my stomach was churning with more than hunger. Next to me, Bianca sat in frigid silence, neglecting even her phone as she looked out her car window watching the miles pass.

In front of the glass partition, Henry navigated the streets, apparently oblivious to the tension in the back seat.

About five minutes from Jake's, Bianca turned to face me. "I suppose you're going to tell on me," she said.

"Tell on you?" I said. "Like we're in grade school?"

When she spoke, her voice was very quiet. "If you're smart, you'll stay away from him."

She didn't need to say who she meant. ButI made myself say it anyway. "Who? Jake?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"Yeah?" I said. "Why's that?"

"Because," she said, "if you're not careful, he'll destroy you." Her voice hitched. "Just like he's destroyed me."

Caught off guard, I stared at Bianca. Sitting in her perfect clothes, with her perfect hair and perfect nails, she looked anything but destroyed. "What do you mean?" I asked.

She glanced toward her lap, not meeting my gaze. "You see," she said, "he gives me money. And…" She let the sentence trail off.

"And?" I prompted.

"I do things for him."

My gaze narrowed. "What kind of things?"

She looked up, finally looking me in the eye. "Thingsyou'llbe doing if you're not careful."

My stomach, already churning, gave another lurch. The implication was obvious. "And he pays you for that?" I said. "I'm finding that hard to believe."

She gave a bitter laugh. "Really? Why's that?"