Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Did you know the coke was laced?” James asks me and it takes a moment for the question to register.
The coke I gave Tony.
That doesn’t make sense. Our shit is clean and pure and the best there is.
It’s also provided to us in the recreation room by the company.
“I wouldn’t know a thing about that.” It’s the only answer I can force out. Keeping a hard stare on my face even as my blood heats hotter and hotter.
Is he serious? It was laced?
I know the laws in and out. I can’t admit to any knowledge that could lead back to me. I can accuse him, but not admit to participation or any foresight of drugs being gifted so freely when asked.
I raise my hand as if I’m the one in the wrong. The one who misspoke. “None of it matters anyway. I told you, I quit.”
“And I told you, that you—”
“I’m done,” I say and my words come out hard as I stand up and tower over the desk. James is quick to get up, tugging at one sleeve and then the other on his suit. “I thought you had something to tell me. Something useful and not some delusion that you could use to blackmail me.”
His eyes glint with a darkness at my words. “It’s not blackmail. I haven’t—”
“Fuck you, James,” I say, cutting him off as I turn my back to him to stalk out of the room. It’ll be the last time I come here.
“You know what I can do to you,” James says the threat to my back.
“I’m calling your bluff,” I respond out of anger and instantly regret it, but I don’t stop. All the weeks of not knowing if him or Samantha would tell the cops what happened, all the guilt and denial rise up in my chest and cause the next words come out without my consent. “Tell them what happened.”
Just the thought of the truth getting out lifts a weight off of me.
“Tell them I gave him the coke. Tell them I set him up to get high and came back to him dead. Tell the press. Tell everyone,” I say and my heart beats faster and faster as my hands ball into white-knuckled fists. I realize what I’ve just done. I realize I’ve said it out loud. But I don’t care. It doesn’t change anything. None of it matters anymore.
“It’s murder, Evan, and you know it,” James says as I face the door to leave. Not bothering to acknowledge him in the least.
Yes, it’s murder. And it’s not the first time something’s happened under my watch. But it’s the last. I’m done with this shit and this life.
I didn’t lace a damn thing. If that stash was messed with, it wasn’t me and I’m not going down for a crime I didn’t commit. I’ll own up to everything else.
I want to pay for my sins and chase what truly matters to me.
A love I took for granted. A love I don’t know if I can salvage.
Kat
Pulled in every direction,
Too dizzy to stay still.
My feet stumble beneath me,
My body frozen from the chill.
No more of being numb and weak,
No more of waiting, left in vain.
I’ve had enough of lies,
I’ve had enough of pain.
The buzz from the townhouse speaker rouses me from my seat in the dining room. Buzz. Buzz. It’s an annoying high-pitched sound that I can’t stand.
My head’s already throbbing. It’s been like this for hours, ever since I got home and took the test. I can’t go back and look at it. It’s hard enough to wrap my head around everything that’s happening.
And the guilt …
As I walk to the front of the townhouse, hustling down the stairs so I don’t have to hear that damn noise again, I realize it’s nearly nine and I’m still in my pajamas. At least I have pants on, but the matching light gray cotton shirt has a large spot of coffee on the front and I’m sure my hair’s a mess.
“Who is it?” I ask in a voice that sounds more together than I feel as I push the button down and then release it. The only person I can think of is Henry, Evan’s father.
“Sorry to bother you, I was just hoping for a quick meeting,” a voice says on the other side and it takes me a moment to recognize it.
“Jacob?” I say into the intercom.
“I hope you don’t mind. I was in the area and wanted to stop by,” he replies and his voice breaks up over the speaker.
I know it’s rude to make him wait, it’s unkind not to answer him immediately, but this is so unexpected. I don’t know how to react or respond.
“I’m not quite dressed for company,” I tell him and then close my eyes from embarrassment. He still hasn’t signed with the agency and I haven’t spoken to him since running into him on the street.