Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?” she asks a moment later. “What did I say?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Jamie.”
She tilts her head, staring at me just like a wife would. She looks at me as if to say, You know you can’t play those games with me. You know you can’t hide anything from me.
“I’ll be looking for work. I need a job. I need to earn money. Not being able to earn a wage eats away at a man.”
“You’ll find something,” she says. “What do you want to do?”
“Publish my novels,” I tell her, “but in the meantime, I’ve got to live in reality. I’ll keep pushing today.”
“I could always le—”
Lend.
“Don’t say that,” I snap. “You need your money. I’d never borrow from you.”
I don’t mean for this to come out so aggressively, but the idea of borrowing from my woman, the woman I’m going to support one day…
“I was just trying to help,” she says softly.
“If I’m going to be a man worthy of you, Lucy, I need to make my own way.”
She flinches. I’ve gone too far. I’ve said too much.
“Anyway,” I drain the coffee and rise to my feet, “I should let you get going.”
“Uh, yeah.”
She glances at me, then places her mug down and walks toward the door.
The diner is on the waterfront. It’s a rundown place that never sees much business. It sits alone at the end of a row of foreclosed houses, boards over the windows and doors. The lights flicker as I enter. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t the kid again, the one who was on the skateboard yesterday.
He’s tied his greasy blond hair up into a top knot. He’s chewing gum aggressively as I walk across the diner and sit opposite him. I can’t see any staff members. It’s empty, apart from us, but the lights are on, and the machines are humming behind the counter.
“I thought it would be better to have the joint to ourselves,” the kid says.
He speaks awkwardly, and then I realize why. He’s wearing an earpiece. I thought it was his hair curled around his ear awkwardly, but no, it’s a small flesh-colored headset.
“It’s nice to see you again, Jamie. It’s been far too long.”
“Pretty sure we saw each other yesterday, kid.”
The kid’s eyes flicker. He looks terrified. I wish whatever bastard was controlling him was here right now. I’d teach them a few lessons about what happens if you use children to further your own fucked-up goals.
“We both know you’re not talking to this stupid child.”
I clench my fist under the table. “Listen, kid. You tear that earpiece off right now, and I’ll take you someplace safe.”
The kid blinks, eyes glistening. “If you did that, I’d make a phone call. Several armed, masked men would appear at your baby sister’s door following this phone call. Then they would proceed to torture and eventually exe…” The kid pauses, almost stumbling on the word. “Execute your nephew in front of her. Do you want that to happen?”
My hands tremble. Perversely, I wish I was back in prison. If somebody tried to pull some shit like this in there, I’d find a way to get to them. I’d beat them bloody, so the rest of the inmates knew to stay away from me, but the rules are more complicated out here.
“Was that you last night?”
“Maybe. I could ask why you were at Lucy Hutchinson’s house. Considering what you did to her father, it’s a very odd place for you to be.”
“I was there to make sure she was safe. Somebody has to.”
Beneath the table, the kid moves his skateboard back and forth with his foot, the wheels squeaking like they need to be cleaned or replaced.
“Why were you there?” I ask.
The kid pauses, head tilted. “I’ve been following you,” he finally says. “I was hoping she’d think you were the one sneaking around, call the cops, get you into some trouble. It was nothing but a bit of harmless fun.”
“Were you there yourself, or did you send this child?”
“Don’t refer to Zack as a child. He’s a man.”
Disgustingly, Zack seems proud as he parrots these words.
“Yeah? And how old is this man?”
“Nine,” Zack says, and I know that’s him answering, the first words of his own he’s spoken since I got here. It’s something in his voice sounding more childish than before.
“You’re not a man, Zack,” I tell him. “Whoever’s putting you up to this is using you.”
“Now, now,” Zack says, back to parroting. “You don’t want K and K to run into any trouble, do you?”
K and K. Kylie and Kyle.
“Stupid names, by the way,” Zack goes on. “What mother called Kylie names her son Kyle?”
“If you ever touched them, I’d hurt and kill you. I hope you know that.”
The kid flinches as if he thinks I’m talking to him.
God, this is a sick mess.