by Skye Warren
“Hey, wait,” Jess said. “You didn’t tell us what to do?”
He just waved and grunted. The smell of vodka slowly receded as he continued down the block.
“Great,” I said. “What did we do wrong?”
I turned to look at Jess, but she was staring at something, slowly walking toward the weave shop. I followed her gaze and froze, the cold suddenly piercing me deeply.
In the window was a sign with my name on it in big, bold latters.
“Wow,” Jess whispered. “This is . . . “
“Creepy,” I finished.
“A little bit.”
I stepped up to the sign and started to read.
LANEY! Congrats. That’s ten grand to needy kids. You’re doing really great so far. Only two more clues before you get what you really want! Here’s your next clue: Milk, milk, lemonade, around the corner fudge is made.
I finished reading it once, read it a second time, and finally looked at Jess.
“What the fuck?”
Chapter 4
Milk, Milk, Lemonade, Around the Corner Fudge is Made
“No way,” Jess said, shaking her head. “I’m done.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said. I reached up and ripped the sign from the store’s window before getting out my phone.
What the hell was this pervy, childish clue? There was no message from Trent, but clearly this was the second step. “Is this for real?” I asked him, sending a picture of the sign.
He didn’t respond.
“I’m starting to feel like your serial killer idea was totally right,” Jess said.
“How do you know?”
“Because that nursery rhyme is just so gross.”
“I know.”
“I mean, seriously. A charity treasure hunt for kids with that stuff in it?”
“Kids do like that rhyme,” I pointed out.
“That’s not the point.
“I don’t know what the point is,” I said.
“Come on, Laney. Let’s just go home.”
I stared at her, frowning, and I wanted to do it. I wanted to pack it in and go home. The snow was falling thick and my flats were woefully underprepared for this sort of cold weather walking, but we’d come so far already. I didn’t know why, but part of me really wanted to know what all of this was about. I wanted to know what the clue meant and what the final clue was going to be.
Trent Klaus seemed totally insane. This whole thing seemed insane. But for some reason, I was completely and totally addicted to it. I couldn’t imagine turning away now, not at this point. I’d come way too far and I wasn’t the type of person to back down, no matter what. Maybe Trent really was some kind of murderer or something like that, but I didn’t think so. This was way too elaborate and public to be just some serial killer finding a victim. Plus, there was the matter of the charity money. Ten grand was great, but twenty grand would be even better.
“I can’t,” I said to her finally. “I can’t give up.”
“Come on, Laney. This is nuts. Let’s just go home.”
“You can go. I’m going to follow this through.”
Jess sighed. “I’m sorry. I got you into this and now I’m thinking about ditching.”
I laughed. “It’s really okay. I promise, it really is.”
“I feel shitty about it.”
“I know. Make it up to me later.”
“How?”
“Have some hot chocolate waiting. And whisky.”
“Done and done.”
I smiled and hugged her. She called an Uber and I waited with her until the guy showed up in this enormous white Bronco.
“OJ style,” Jess said, grinning, as she stepped inside.
“See you at home.”
“Text me,” she said. “Seriously, like every ten minutes. I don’t want you to get murdered.”
“I’m okay. I promise.”
She nodded, shut the door, and disappeared into the night.
I took a sharp breath and let it out. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. I took it from my pocket.
“She was just slowing you down,” Trent said.
Jesus shit fuck. This guy really was creepy as hell, and suddenly I regretted not getting in that Uber with her.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Look down the block.”
I looked ahead and spotted the alcoholic Santa, waving through the gloom.
“He’s on the phone with me right now,” Trent typed.
“Creepy.”
“Hey. I have a lot of money on the line here. I have to make sure you’re playing by the rules.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m playing your creepy game. Just please don’t kill me at the end, okay?”
“I promise, I won’t. This is a happy game.”
“So far, so good, but your most recent clue is a little . . . “
“Immature?” he offered.
“Gross. And immature.”
“LOL. Sorry. You’ll figure it out soon enough, though.”
“Give me a hint?”
“No can do, Laney. You got this. I’m rooting for you.”
I sighed and slipped my phone into my pocket, looking around the area.
It was a nice neighborhood, right on the edge of Old City and South Philly. South Street was a few blocks ahead and mostly everything else was residential. Up in the gloom, alcoholic Santa was already hoofing it away, walking as fast as his drunk little legs could take him.
I let him go. Instead, I started looking around my area and thinking hard on the rhyme.
It was crude and silly, but I had a feeling that was a distraction. Trent didn’t seem like the potty humor kind of guy, so I had to look past that and figure out what it could represent. So far, the clues were leading us to a specific location where we’d get the next clue, and I had to assume that was what this one was doing.
Okay, so. It was leading me somewhere. But where?
Milk, milk, lemonade, around the corner fudge is made.
I started walking south, looking around. Up on the corner was an ice cream shop. I considered going in, but decided against it. I kept talking, passed another ice cream shop, and stepped in a huge snow pile, getting frozen slushy snow all up my right calf.
Groaning, I looked around for someplace to dry off. A block ahead was this little shop called Lemonistas that apparently was supposed to be a boutique lemonade store that catered specifically to women.
I stood with my hand on the door when it hit me like a fucking truck.
Ice cream, ice cream, lemonade store . . .
I quickly walked up to the corner and looked both ways. I nearly laughed out loud when I saw the store that was only a block away.
Max Brenner’s.
It was a restaurant and bar that was famous for making everything with chocolate. They had chocolate in the fries, in all the food, in everything. It was a crazy place and I personally thought the food wasn’t that great, but apparently a lot of people loved it.
And of course, they made their own fudge.
The rhyme was literal. It was freaking literal. There were two ice cream places that used milk, a store that sold lemonade, and finally a place that made fudge right around the corner.
I groaned to myself, shaking my head. This was ridiculous, but at least it followed some consistent logic.
Heart hammering, wondering what this next clue would be, I stepped up to the door and went inside the chocolate shop.
Chapter 5
I’m Going Down Down Baby
I looked around the crowded restaurant, grateful for the warmth of the heating system. Feeling was coming back to my feet and I was very aware of tracking water in behind me, but I didn’t care.
“Can I help you?” the hostess asked.
“Uh, no, thanks. Where’s the bar?”
“Right around the corner,” she said and went off to help someone else.
I walked in the direction of her gaze. The restaurant had a chocolate factory c
hic thing going on, with lots of polished brass pipes up near the ceiling and industrial-style seating. It was dimly lit and packed, which I figured was due to the snow falling steadily outside. Tourists and locals alike wanted to escape it, at least for a little while.
I found the bar up ahead and headed over to it. I had no clue what I was supposed to do and I was starting to think that I made a mistake. Maybe I misread the clue and this just happened to fit into what I thought the answer was. I ordered a glass of wine and sipped it when the bartender handed it over before turning back to look over the crowd.
Well, if I was wrong, at least I had a drink and I was warm. My toes were tingling as they came back to life and the tips of my fingers were finally getting some feeling back in them. I had been much colder than I realized, and I knew that I wasn’t going back out in that if I didn’t have to. If I was wrong, I’d sit around and drink for a while before I headed back to the apartment.
As I turned back toward the bar, I noticed someone approaching. I turned and saw a gorgeous, tall blonde woman dressed in a conservative business outfit, a warm smile on her face.
“Are you Laney?” she asked.
I nodded, surprised. “Yes, I am.”
“Awesome. I’m so glad you found us, Laney.”
I cocked my head. “Uh, is this part of the hunt?”
Her smile got broader. “Bingo. Ready for your next clue?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”
“Follow me.”
She waited expectantly so I stood, glass clutched in my hand, and I followed her. She led me through the restaurant and back toward the kitchen. We went through the double swinging doors and into the kitchen itself, right through the hustle and bustle of the chefs doing their work. They didn’t spare us a second glance as we walked right in the midst of them, almost as if it was a normal thing for two random people to come strolling through their kitchen.
We came to the end of the kitchen and stopped at a door. The woman opened it and gestured at the staircase that descended into the basement of the building.
“Down there,” she said.
“Oh, uh, okay. Are you coming?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. This is where I turn around.”
“Okay. This is a little weird.”
She nodded, smiling, but didn’t say anything.
“What’s down there?”
She just smiled at me, not responding.
“You’re not allowed to tell me, are you?”
No response, just that smile.
I sighed. “Okay. Nice talking to you.”
“Good luck,” she said.
I stepped down onto the first stair, heart beating fast again. I downed my glass of wine and handed it to her, which she accepted graciously. Once I was a few steps down, she shut the door behind me.
I stood there on the steps, suspended between the basement and the upstairs, unsure of what to do. I could go forward, continue with this crazy hunt, or I could turn back and call it a night. So far, things had been weird but not uncomfortable. Everything had been done outside and in public, so I never really was afraid.
This, though, felt different. I was going into the basement of a building to do who knew what with anybody. I felt conspicuously alone, very very alone, and I realized that I couldn’t hear the noise of the kitchen anymore.
That meant they couldn’t hear me.
For a second, all of the jokes about Trent being a serial killer played through my mind again. This was the perfect setup for him if he really was going to kill me or something. Down in the basement, nobody would hear me scream.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket, expecting a message from Jess, but instead it was a message from Trent.
“What are you waiting for?”
I bit my lip then typed back. “This is creepy.”
“Trust me. Come down stairs.”
“How do you know I haven’t yet?”
“Come down and find out.”
I took a deep breath then slipped my phone back into my pocket.
Maybe he was a serial killer, or maybe he was just a weird rich guy with a strange sense of humor. Either way, I had to see this thing through. I’d come too far to turn around.
I walked down the steps and looked out into the basement.
Chapter 6
You Look Better Without The Santa Hat
The basement was not what I was expecting.
I figured it would be damp and full of boxes, a storage space for the restaurant above. Instead, it was quiet and dimly lit with a bar along one side, rich carpeting and wood paneling on the walls. It looked more like an old school steakhouse than a random Philly basement.
I got to the bottom of the steps before I noticed him. Sitting at the bar, sipping what looked like whisky, was unmistakably Trent Klaus himself.
He looked up as I approached and smiled. “I’m glad you decided to join me.”
“Hi,” I said stupidly.
He smiled. “Hi.” He turned to the bartender. “Wine for my guest.”
“Of course, sir,” the bartender said, and poured me a glass. I accepted it and sat down next to Trent, feeling dumbstruck.
He was handsome. Actually, that didn’t do him justice. He was absolutely gorgeous. He was wearing a slim, tailored, expensive-looking suit that fit his muscular but slim frame perfectly. His eyes were a deep green and his smile as handsome and cocky all at once. He was the type of man that I saw in catalogues, but never thought actually existed out in the world.
But there he was, sitting right next to me, smiling.
“Are you having fun so far?” he asked.
“I guess,” I said. “I have to admit, it’s been weird.”
He laughed, nodding. “I know. I’m sorry about that.”
“What’s the deal with this hunt thing, anyway? Is this how you meet people?”
“Something like that, actually.” He sipped his drink.
“Come on. Be a little forthcoming. I half expected to get murdered down here.”
“Who says you’re not?”
I stared at him, wide-eyed, and then he burst out laughing.
“Holy shit. You should see your face.”
“Asshole,” I mumbled.
“Come on, Laney. Your friend knows you’re here. Plenty of people saw you upstairs. You’re perfectly safe.”
“Still. Why is there a bar down here?”
“There isn’t normally. This is just for tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding?”
“Nope. Not at all.”
“How?”
“I hired some people and they made it happen.” He shrugged. “You’d be surprised what you can get done with enough money.”
“Wow. So the rumors are true.”
“I’m not sure which rumors you’re referring to, but yes, they’re all true.”
“I mean, you’re filthy rich.”
“So it would seem.”
“Why do this?” I asked him. “Are you just some bored rich guy looking to mess with people like me?”
He looked surprised. “People like you?”
“You know what I mean. Normal people. I’m just an average girl, you know?”
“Oh,” he said. “I see.” He shook his head slowly. “You’re not average at all, Laney. Not even a little bit.”
I was surprised to hear him say that, so I covered by embarrassment by taking a long sip of my wine. It was surprisingly delicious, better than the stuff they served me upstairs.
“I am bored,” he admitted, “but not in the way you’re thinking. I’m bored of the way people treat me.”
“Must be hard. Being stinking rich.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I know. Rich boy whining, and all that. That response is exactly why I’m happy you’re the one who responded to me on Tinder.”
“Why?” I asked him. “Why put that up on Tinder at all?”
“People expect things from me,” he said. “When y
ou’re as rich as I am, it’s hard to meet someone that isn’t interested in much more than my bank account. This whole thing is an attempt to meet someone like that.”
“What makes you think I’m her?” I asked.
He laughed. “Nothing, really. Just hoping that someone who’s willing to play this stupid game is more interesting than the people I normally meet.”
“Why Tinder, though?” I pressed.
“Because I wanted to meet someone that wanted the final prize.” He stared at me, his face serious.
“That wasn’t a joke?”
“Not at all,” he said. “Not a little bit.”
I gaped at him, totally surprised and thrown off. I expected him to laugh about that and to act like it was just a silly prank, but he apparently wasn’t kidding. The real prize at the end of the hunt was his cock.
I felt my pulse quicken and excitement build between my legs. At first, it felt like just a stupid and impossible thing, that I’d actually want to sleep with him. I figured I’d never actually see him and that the game was just for charity, or maybe just for the sake of the game. But now that I was sitting near him, staring at his gorgeous face and listening to him talk, I couldn’t help but wonder what his body would feel like against mine.
“That’s insane,” I said finally.
“You’re blushing. It’s cute.”
“You just said that if I win, you’re going to fuck me!”
He laughed. “I didn’t use those words, but yeah, basically.”
“What if I don’t want to sleep with you?”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Laney,” he said softly. “But based on the way you’re looking at me, I suspect you want it.”
“This is crazy.”
“A little bit. But I still think you’re going to beg me to slide my thick cock deep inside of you by the end of this.”
I took a deep breath and finished my glass of wine, feeling the warmth flood into my body. Maybe I was in way over my head, and maybe I should’ve gotten up and ran away.
I didn’t move, though. I was transfixed by him, by how forward he was and by his story. I believed him that he was looking for someone who wanted more than just his money. I could imagine what life was like for someone like him, young and successful and rich. It was probably pretty amazing, but there were probably other difficulties, too. He probably couldn’t be an equal with most people just because of his bank account, and it was probably pretty hard to open up to people.
