by Eden Ashley
Again, Remington shook his head.
“Damn.”
“You were in his sights, so I aimed to kill.”
Solomon nodded. “Thank you.” Something the dead kid said came to mind. “He mentioned your man.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Just before this guy shot him, he said, ‘I didn’t know Marx sent him.’”
Remington stood up. “How do you feel about coincidences?”
“In our line of work, there aren’t many.”
9
Davey made it through the rest of the school day without experiencing another weird hallucination about Ethan. But the one was enough. Sitting in a worn, comfortable chair in the counselor’s office during their first meeting was precisely the wrong time for Davey to be distracted with visions of a strange guy she’d just met. She tried not to fidget. The counselor was nice enough, but the way the woman leaned into Davey’s space, wearing an earnest stare that essentially begged for the spillage of every secret, made her want to jump out of the chair and run. However, failure to attend counseling meant she would have to kiss the few remaining months of high school—and college—goodbye.
“This initial session is only about us getting to know one another. Rather than seeing me as another grown up telling you what to do, I want you to see me as a friend.” The counselor rolled a vintage number two pencil between her fingers. “You can talk to me, Davey.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“This is your hour.” She spread her arms, testing the limits of the green cardigan that probably fit better fifteen pounds ago. “You can speak about whatever you like.”
“What if I don’t want to talk about anything?”
Uncrossing her legs, the counselor nodded with understanding. “We could sit here and stare at each other. It won’t make the time pass any faster. And it won’t do you any good.”
Sighing in resignation, Davey sank into the armchair. Since it was Jessie’s fault she had to be there in the first place, it would have only been fair if Ward had sentenced the cheerleader’s big mouth to counseling as well. Then she, Davey, and the green sweater could have a really productive chat.
“Okay then,” the counselor said. “We’ll start with me. As you can probably tell from my accent, I’m not from around here. I actually grew up on a dairy farm in Rhode Island…”
For the next forty-five minutes, Davey stared down at her wrists, curiously wondering if suicide was really a sin. Not that she was religious or anything. She just wanted the monotonous tales of the green sweater’s childhood to stop. Davey didn’t care that every day began with rising before the sun to feed chickens, cows, and pigs. And she didn’t give two shits about the milk being so fresh it practically squirted from the cow’s teat and directly into the cereal bowl at breakfast. At five o’clock the counselor mercifully fell silent. Time was up.
As Davey started to gather her things, green sweater touched her arm. “Before you go, tell me one thing about yourself.”
Davey shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
Spreading her hands wide, the woman clasped them together again and gave a little shrug. “Tell me your favorite color.
Rolling her eyes, Davey slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed for the door. Out in the hallway, she stopped. After a moment of consideration, Davey turned back. Green sweater seemed surprised to see her standing once again in the open doorway. “Pink,” she said and quickly shut the door as a grateful smile spread onto the counselor’s face.
All in all, the session hadn’t been the most horrible experience. There were plenty of worse ways to spend an additional hour at school. Ward could have sentenced her to after school detention for the remainder of the school year. Davey thought about that and much more on the walk home. It was a long one. She couldn’t call her parents for a ride because they’d want to know why she missed the bus, which would mean telling them about the counseling, and that would only spawn another argument between Tina and Brady. Those two fought about everything. Stupid things. The toilet paper was put on backward. An empty beer can left out on the counter. No one took out the trash or emptied the ashtrays. Brady forgot to check the mail. Tina bought the wrong laundry detergent. But most of all of, they fought about Tina’s brother—a convicted sex offender who insisted on visiting.
Davey was sick of it. Unfortunately, she no longer had a way to tune their fighting out. Last week during gym class, her treasured mp3 player had gotten pulverized by a wayward foul ball.
She crossed the backyard of her grandmother’s house on high alert for any sign of Ethan. He wasn’t there. Davey searched her emotions, trying to decipher how his absence made her feel. But when she started down the wooded path to the trailer park, she was none the wiser.
*
Tina Little sat on the sofa, watching a sitcom while smoking a cigarette. She heard Davey come in but pretended she hadn’t and kept her attention focused on the television. Later would be soon enough to deal with the little hellion’s latest rebellion. Sometimes, Tina wished her daughter would pick a different tune and play it. The baby Goth makeup and clothing, bad attitude, and constant disrespect were getting on her last damn nerve. Brady was basically worthless when it came to helping raise a teenager. Tina wasn’t stupid—since he didn’t think the kid was his, checking out Davey’s breasts and ass was okay. She hadn’t missed the looks between them. It was only a matter of time before the little slut got bold enough to sleep with her husband. But Tina was prepared. As soon as Davey finished high school, she would kick the little bitch out.
Time for little bird to leave the nest and fly. Hopefully she’ll land on her ass, Tina thought with a smile.
The front door closed softly, but to her ears, it sounded like a slam. Davey couldn’t do a damn thing right. At least Hogan was different. Snuggled beside her, to Tina the five-year-old looked like a red-faced cherub. If he was going to sleep at all tonight, she would have to wake him soon. But at the sound of Davey’s footsteps, the boy yawned and wriggled off the couch.
*
Wearing a Spiderman t-shirt that was dirty and too big for him, Hogan ran to Davey. She smiled, hoping her little brother could maintain his sleepy-eyed innocence forever. Scooping him up just before he crashed into her legs, Davey blew a raspberry against his cheek. He giggled like a lunatic and squirmed within her grasp.
“Were you a good boy today?”
“Yes!” Hogan squealed.
She blew another raspberry. “Are you sure?”
He shrieked. “Yes! I’m sure!”
“Good.” Davey kissed his hair. Happiness fluttered into her soul as his tiny arms and hands wrapped around her neck.
“Can I have a story?”
“Once you’ve had your bath.”
“Can I have two stories?”
“I dunno. That might be pushing it.”
“Please?” Hogan’s eyes widened hopefully. They were huge and round, and as dark as two pieces of chocolate. Davey couldn’t resist. “Okay. Two stories, but that’s it.”
He held up his little hand. “Pinky swear, Davey.”
Sighing playfully, she hooked her smallest finger into the crook of his. “Two stories. I pinky swear it.”
“Read one when you give me bath. Read one when you tuck me in.”
“Okay, kiddo.” She laughed. He might be small for his age, but Hogan’s brains were all there. Over his shoulder, Tina’s sullen glare confronted her, making Davey stiffen.
Though thirteen years spanned between them, the siblings had almost always shared a special connection. Right around the time Hogan mastered furniture walking, he began displaying an unnatural intuition for his sister’s moods. Davey could remember lying on the floor with a pillow pressed to her face to mask the sound of her sobs when Hogan had crawled into her room. She sat up and tried to pull herself together, so as not to upset the baby, but Hogan had other ideas. Climbing into her lap, he watched Davey with the sort of understanding a toddler sho
uld not have possessed. Then Hogan touched her face and dropped to his bottom. He stayed with her for hours. That night, Davey fell asleep holding him and suddenly felt fiercely protective of the wriggly and stubby intruder who had interrupted her life only ten months before.
Hogan’s gaze went from his mom and back to his sister. Looking at Tina again, he flashed his most charming smile. “Bath time with Davey, Momma.”
It took a while, but Tina nodded. Taking a final drag from her cigarette, she walked out of the living room and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her without uttering a word.
10
Hogan was sound asleep with his favorite plush bunny tucked in beside him. Once upon a time, the tattered toy was a lovely creature, snow white and full of fluff. Now every day was only borrowed time from a fate destined for the garbage bin. Hogan’s stubborn refusal to let the bunny go was its only lifeline.
Davey touched two fingers to her lips and grazed them lightly against Hogan’s forehead. His eyes flew wide open and instantly fixed on his sister. “Be careful, Davey.”
Smiling through the chill suddenly sliding across her skin wasn’t easy. “I’m always careful, Monkey.”
He continued to watch her with that knowing stare, reminding Davey of the night when she’d cried and a ten-month old baby had done his best to comfort her. Several seconds passed before Hogan finally yawned and morphed into a normal kid again. “Nite nite, Davey.”
“G’nite, Monkey,” she said. Turning off the lamp, Davey went into her room.
It was close to eight o’clock. Davey was supposed to meet Palmer with the cash and remaining merchandise by ten. Afterward, he would drive them to see the boss. Marx. Fairly new to the scene, Marx had only started controlling the supply to Harpey in the last month or so. Davey didn’t like him. She especially hated these nights when she and Palmer had to make deliveries. Before Marx took over Harpey, Palmer had been able to leave her out of the dirtier side of the business. Now Marx insisted on assembling all his players weekly because he said it kept them honest.
Rumors abounded accusing Marx of being a complete psycho. Thankfully, Davey had never witnessed evidence of it firsthand. The worst he’d done involved exploring her body with a few slithering gazes, practically undressing Davey whenever she was in sight. Looking down, Davey considered the black lace and V-neck tank top. She decided to change. Trading off the somewhat sultry attire for a white t-shirt with a melting black cross on the front, she shrugged a black leather jacket over it. Glancing at the clock, Davey stretched out on her bed. There was time enough to get the weekend English assignment done.
Unfortunately, Tina walked in and ruined everything.
Her mother held a cigarette in one hand. A dark colored backpack was clutched in the other. Smirking, she tossed the bag at Davey’s feet.
“You’re determined to be like that piece of shit father of yours, even though you’ve never met him. You don’t look much like him. But his filthy genes are definitely hiding in there somewhere.”
Abandoning the homework assignment, Davey tried to make her face as empty as possible when she met her mother’s eyes. “He must not have been too disgusting. Since you had sex with him…repeatedly.”
“Watch your mouth, bitch.”
Davey withdrew inwardly. No matter how many times Tina called her that, it never stopped hurting. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “What do you want?”
Tina took her time answering. After a long draw on the cigarette, she blew a slow stream of smoke. “Open it.”
An ill feeling twisted into Davey’s stomach as she recognized the bag. It was Palmer’s. She reached for it anyway, hands starting to shake. What has she done?
She didn’t have to wait to find out. Once glance and Davey knew. The cash was gone. The drugs were gone.
“What did you do?” she whispered as the walls closed in around her.
“I flushed the pills. Used the cash to pay up three months of late rent.”
Davey’s mouth fell open. She closed it and licked her lips. She actually felt faint.
Tina couldn’t have looked happier.
Her mother’s expression made Davey’s blood boil. Red dots marred her vision. She could barely see as she forced her body to remain completely still. Her hands blanched and reddened, balling into fists so tight she feared her palms might bleed. “Why would you do that?”
“Someone has to stop you from screwing up your life.”
“You are screwing up my life!”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Tina rolled her eyes, but wisely backed toward the door. “You’re grounded, by the way.”
Once she heard the door to her parents’ bedroom close, Davey slung the empty bag over her shoulder and jumped out of the window. She set out through the trailer park at a run until entering the woods forced her to a slower pace. A small flashlight helped guide her feet on the trail. Coming to the edge of the woods near her grandmother’s property line, she stopped. Light spilled from the house via several glowing window frames. Davey turned off the flashlight and crossed the lawn, careful to keep to the shadows.
Though the main highway was less of a highway and more of a heavily traveled country road, cars were constantly passing through, even at night, on their way to the bigger city. Davey walked parallel to the highway, using the ditches. By the time drivers saw her, it’d be too late to stop and offer unwanted help. At least at night, it was a decent way to avoid potential perverts.
Thirty minutes after she reached the deserted bus station, Palmer’s GSX cruised into the parking lot. Davey jogged over to the car and slid into the passenger seat. Palmer leaned over to kiss her, but hesitated on seeing her anxious expression. “What’s wrong?”
She handed him the bag, and Palmer yanked it open. “What the hell, Davey? What is this?”
“I’m sorry, Palmer.”
“What happened?”
“My mom…” Davey paused to gain control of the tremor in her voice. “She took everything.”
Palmer shook his head as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “She took the drugs and the cash?”
Davey nodded.
Panic seized Palmer’s features. “There was snow in here.”
“I know.”
“How did she find them?”
“I don’t know. She must have tossed my room.” Davey turned away because she couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “Rent was late. I guess she was desperate.”
“Shit, Davey.” He rubbed his face.
“I know,” she repeated miserably.
Davey was scared. They were supposed to meet Marx tonight. Going in empty-handed was not an option. Palmer must have sensed her distress because he suddenly pulled her close. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, kissing her cheek and then her hair. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be alright.”
“Okay,” Davey said softly, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
11
Two men stood on either side of Marx, dressed in all black and wearing identical scowls. A third man positioned himself behind the teenagers. Palmer felt his presence on every hair at the back of his neck, but stubbornly kept his eyes on Marx, hardly daring to blink. The boss was not happy.
After maxing out the daily limit across multiple accounts at the ATM and borrowing the rest from friends, Palmer had given Marx ten thousand dollars to cover the missing product. But he wasn’t sure cash alone was going to be enough. Sweat trickled down his back, soaking through the shirt underneath his jacket.
Marx crossed both hands in front of him. “You are careless,” he said.
“Yes.” Palmer squeezed out every ounce of respect his father had instilled within him and poured it in his voice. “There’s no excuse. Let me make it up to you, Marx.” He hadn’t told the boss the truth of how the drugs and cash had gone missing, instead making up a story involving his car being broken into and vandalized. So far, Davey had kept quiet and allowed him to take the blame. He hoped things would stay that way.
“What kind of example will it set for others who work for me, this carelessness you have shown?”
Palmer swallowed. “I replaced the money.” He licked his lips. “Give me a few days, and I can double it.”
The offer seemed to catch Marx off guard. He stroked the thin beard that trimmed his jaw, as if considering. Then Marx shook his head. Palmer’s heart sank.
“I don’t want your money, Mr. Kinsey.” Marx advanced, killing the distance between himself and the teenagers. He stopped in front of the girl. Davey met his gaze, and her chin lifted, practically defiant. Up close, Palmer could see the way her hair trembled. Her face was brave, but her breaths came too quickly. Every shallow inhalation raised her breasts, and Marx wasn’t shy about looking…or touching.
The zipper of Davey’s jacket sent an echo throughout the warehouse as Marx tugged it downward. Davey’s eyes locked onto his hungry stare, and her nostrils flared. Marx smiled, barely able to conceal his lust. Palmer felt sick.
“I want the girl.”
Palmer shook his head. “No way.” Without looking, he knew when the guy behind him moved in closer. Things were about to get ugly.
“Give me the girl, and your debt will be paid in full. She will also be released.” The sickening smile twisted across Marx’s lips. “Eventually.”
His legs were shaking so badly that Palmer wasn’t sure if they would keep holding him up. But something stronger than fear fueled him forward. Stepping between Davey and the psycho with a reputation for brutalizing women, he gritted his teeth. “You can’t have her.”
Guns came out all at once. Bile rose into Palmer’s throat and his stomach threatened to evict all its contents. This is really happening.
Davey whispered his name and he looked at her. He had never seen her so undone. “It’s okay,” she said in a quivering voice. “This is my fault.”
“Shut your mouth,” Palmer snapped.
Marx’s left hand struck out like a whip, lashing against the side of Palmer’s face and leaving his ear ringing from the blow. Pain made Palmer’s already weakened legs stagger. Davey whimpered.
