by Sarah Peis
Of course I was too slow to stop the hellhound from escaping. He easily dodged my attempts at tackling him and raced out the door. I heaved myself up from the floor where I had landed after my missed tackle and followed, slamming my door shut on the way to prevent further theft.
We raced down the stairs, but the little beast was fast for having such short legs. He disappeared inside Mrs. Winters’s apartment, and I stopped at the door and knocked. “Hello, anyone home?”
Mrs. Winters appeared, her puppy nowhere to be found. “Mrs. Winters, sorry to disturb you, but Churchill stole a toy from my apartment. Can I go and get it from him?”
She opened the door and stepped back. “Of course, dear. I didn’t know you had a dog yourself. What’s his name?”
My cheeks turned red, and I grimaced at her. “No. No, I don’t have a dog. Just the toy.”
I walked past and called for the little miscreant. “Here puppy, puppy, puppy. I’ll give you lots of treats and buy you a new toy if you come here now.”
The promise seemed to work when Churchill came charging out of the living room and barreled into my legs, but without the toy. Friggin’ fuck, I did not have time for this. “Where’s your toy, little man? Did you leave it in your bed?”
A check of the dog bed turned up a ripped-up tissue and half a bone, but no bright pink vibrator.
“Is this what you’re looking for, dear?” Mrs. Winters asked.
There it was, my pink bullet, getting waved around like it was a glow stick at an Enrique Iglesias concert.
“Yes, it is. Thank you, Mrs. Winters.” I took it from her, careful not to meet her eyes. “I better go. I’m running late.”
I stuffed the vibrator in my front pocket, at least as much as it would allow me to. The top was hanging out slightly, but what could you do? I had to go.
I left the apartment and pulled my bike out from behind the stairway. It looked just as old and beaten up as always, but at least it still had air in the tires, something I had learned long ago not to take for granted.
I pedaled like my Dad’s life depended on it, which technically it did. The hat I had pushed on my head to ward off the cold wind had a hole, something I forgot about when I grabbed it. I had to remember to put the hole to the back next time. At the moment it was letting the wind through to my forehead.
In my haste to get out of the house, I didn’t zip my jacket all the way and now had to deal with a frozen belly button and nipples. Yet I didn’t feel any of it, my thoughts stuck on how I was going to save Dad and add a few zeros to the $7.40 I had in my account.
Maybe I should call Des. He seemed to have a much better grasp on his money and wasn’t afraid to give it to Dad, the eternal black money hole.
I made it to the address without freezing to death. I felt like I was already winning. The red brick building housed a pizza place, a pharmacy, and some kind of sex store. The address on my phone told me to go to shop 3, the restaurant.
I rested my bike against the wall, not bothering with a lock. Let’s be realistic; nobody would steal my old rusty piece of junk unless they were desperate. And blind.
The door was unlocked despite the closed sign, and I walked inside. A bell announced my entry, and four heads turned in my direction. None of them familiar, all of them of the neckless variety.
One of them came over and patted me down, faltering slightly when he came across the vibrator in my pocket. Yeah, I didn’t know where I was going with that one either, buddy, so stop judging me.
“Sit down,” Brute One commanded and pointed to a seat at the table.
Goody, I’ll be included in their round of Russian roulette.
“I’m supposed to meet your boss. Is he around?” I asked before my ass had even met the seat.
Silence. That’s all I got. And then we sat there in—you guessed it—more silence. An awkward, “should I say something or keep fiddling with the thread that is hanging off my jacket sleeve” silence.
I lasted about seventy seconds. I knew because I watched the clock. “So who wants to play a round of Go Fish?”
More silence, but I did get one raised eyebrow. Right.
“So no Go Fish. How about Uno?”
I was once again met with crickets. Deciding that was as much awkward silence as my overactive brain could handle, I stood up. Immediately guns were drawn, and my chair fell to the ground when I backed into it.
My arms went up, and I looked to Brute One. I felt like we had a connection before. He was also the only one who had said anything to me at all. “As much fun as this has been, I should really talk to your boss and get out of your hair.”
Guns went back into their holsters and pants, but nobody sat down. I eyed the door and considered making a run for it. Coming here on my own and not telling anyone what I was doing had been phenomenally stupid. I had done a lot of stupid shit in my life, but this one took first place in Willa’s award of ideas that should never have seen the light of day.
“Sit down,” Brute One said. He was the only one still with his gun out, a gun that was now pointing at the seat. I guess he won that argument, since he had a gun and all. So I sat back down, adjusted the vibrator in my pocket that was sticking into my thigh uncomfortably, and tapped my fingers on the table.
One scathing look from one of the brutes, and I dropped my hand like they’d stuck a knife in it. They might if I pissed them off enough.
Another minute went past agonizingly slow and the scenarios in my head on what had happened to Dad were getting out of hand. What if they chopped off his hand? His ear? Or tortured him. Water torture. Removed fingernails. Hung him upside down from the ceiling.
I was getting hot from all the worrying and tugged at my clothes. Wearing a jacket and hat inside made my body temperature rise to uncomfortable levels. The hat went first, but I was still burning up.
After another thirty seconds of sitting in silence, I moved my upper body forward, because heaven forbid I stand up again, unzipped my jacket, and put a hand on the inside to push it off.
Despite my good intentions, all guns were drawn again and my hands froze. “Just taking my jacket off, guys, not trying to get out a bomb. Fuck, you need to relax.”
Turned out mentioning a bomb to a room full of beefed-up bad guys was the wrong thing to do. Story of my life really, so I wasn’t surprised when I was tackled to the ground and the jacket was ripped off me.
“If you wanted to give me a hand, we could have done this standing up.” My voice was muffled since my cheek was pressed to the floor.
After inspecting my jacket, they stood me back up. The shuffle had unearthed the vibrator, and it tumbled to the floor with a loud clank. All eyes went to the pink bullet, and I wished I had brought a bomb instead.
I leaned down and picked it up, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Back into my jeans pocket it went, still not small enough to fit, but what can you do? I don’t know why I even bothered getting embarrassed anymore. But I did, and dropping a vibrator in front of four guys was high on my list of embarrassing encounters.
“Willa,” a deep and vaguely familiar voice called out. I turned and was met with a stunning specimen of the male gender. Blonde tousled hair, green eyes, and a body that was used to working out a few hours each day. He looked almost as hot as Jameson: they could have been brothers, their height and bone structure eerily similar. But I knew that Jameson only had one brother. The voice was the same as the one on the phone, so I presumed I was looking at the guy my dad owed money to.
His next words confirmed it. “Glad you could make it. I’m Jacob.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”
I definitely did not take his arm, hand, or any other appendage he was offering. What I did do was stumble and need his help anyway to prevent a face-plant. He led me to an office in the back and deposited me on a chair opposite his desk, taking a seat on the other side.
I felt like I had stepped onto the set of Dracula. The walls were black, the carpet red, and the desk a deep mahogany. It was polished to perfecti
on.
I was thrown so far off I didn’t even have a smart-ass comment at the ready. And I wondered what Dad had gotten himself involved in, because this office reeked of money.
“Your dad owes me money.” He leaned forward, his focus on me, not something I particularly enjoyed since it meant he expected me to fix whatever my dad had messed up. “A lot of money, which according to him he can’t pay back. And now he’s disappeared.”
Of course he did. “I figured as much. And now you want me to pay it back. Well, I can cut this whole thing short. I don’t have the money. I won’t be able to get the money. And I will definitely not cover for my dad. It’s his debt; he needs to pay it off.”
Jacob stared at me but didn’t respond. He was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I wiped at my face to make sure I didn’t have any mascara smudges, but he continued staring.
“Everything okay?” I asked, just to get him to stop staring.
“Did you know that your mouth is blue?”
Fuck it all, I totally forgot about the blue-mouth issue while I was busy fearing for my life. No wonder the beefed-up hard-asses outside were staring. “It’s food color. Should be gone in a few hours.”
He seemed thrown off his big badass course, and his lips twitched but didn’t allow for a full smile. His features were back under control again within seconds.
“Since he’s vanished into thin air, you’re all I’ve got. Call him.”
As if I hadn’t tried that already as soon as I’d heard from Jacob, but since he asked so nicely, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and called Dad. It went to voice mail after four rings, and I left a message. “Dad, it’s Willa. You need to call me as soon as you get this.”
I hung up and looked expectantly at Jacob, hoping my job here was done. “Can I go now?”
“You will stay until I talk to him.”
“But I have to go to work. They’ll wonder where I am. Call the cops. File a missing person’s report.”
He didn’t look impressed. “Tell them you’re sick.”
“I’m never sick. And my dickweasel boss writes me up if I give him so much as a sneeze at the wrong time. This is going to lose me my job.” Even though working at a diner wasn’t my dream occupation, it did help to pay the bills. I wasn’t too excited to have to find another minimum-wage job.
“Not my problem.”
There wasn’t really anything else to say, and Jacob went back to work on his computer. I sat back down with a loud sigh and dialed the Donut Hole. Lucky for me, Anita answered. “Donut Hole, how can I help you?”
“Anita, it’s Willa.” I sniffled and coughed dramatically, and Jacob shook his head at me. “I’m not feeling well. Can you get someone to cover for me tonight?”
“He’s going to fire you if you don’t show up. He’s in a mood today.”
“He’s always in a mood. It’s called being an asshole. Can you at least try and talk to him? Pretty please with free dinner on top?”
“Sure, honey. But you better start applying for a new job.”
I hung up, knowing that I had just lost my job. Dad better have a damn good explanation on why I was stuck in Dracula’s lair, trying to sort out his epic fuckup.
After an hour of sitting in the antique chair, my ass hurt and my thumb was numb from playing Angry Birds. A glance at Jacob confirmed he was busy on his computer, and I moved to the couch. He looked up briefly when I relocated my butt but didn’t say anything. Two hours later, I was lying on my back, my phone now drained of its battery thanks to a few too many rounds of Tetris, staring holes at the ceiling.
I had moved from scared out of my brains to bored out of my brains. And bored, in my books, equaled bad decisions. Always.
I got up and started pacing the room, picking up random objects. Samurai sword, a paper weight heavier than my handbag, and an antique-looking urn. Unable to keep quiet any longer, I said, “He’s not going to call me back.”
Jacob lifted his head from behind his screen, unimpressed. “He will eventually if he wants to see you again.”
That sounded ominous. And scary. “Look, you need to give him time to come up with the money. How about a payment plan?”
“Do I look like I give out payment plans?” Nope, he certainly did not. What he did look was pissed off. Should have kept my mouth shut and waited this out. Maybe I could catch up on my sleep while he was busy being the bad guy.
“Nope. Definitely not. Sorry I asked. I’ll just go back to the couch. Maybe have a nap. And definitely not say another word. It will be like I’m not even in the room. I can be as quiet as a church mouse, which I will be.” I looked up into his way-too-symmetrical features and realized how he was the boss. All that pretty exterior? Not so pretty when he pointed his gun at you and looked like he was one word away from going into a murderous rage. His face was set in stone, beautiful but angry stone. So I shut up and sat down.
Something else occurred to me at that moment. How was Dad going to call me back if my phone was dead? What if he had already tried? I lifted my hand like a good kid in school and waited for Jacob to notice me. He did eventually, my arm getting lower and lower with every minute that passed. I really had to get back to the gym.
“What now?” He sounded annoyed. But annoyed I could work with. Annoyed was an emotion I had all too much experience with.
“My phone is dead.”
“For fuck’s sake, are you trying to make me shoot you?”
“No, absolutely not. But you don’t happen to have a charger anywhere do you?”
“Bill,” he yelled out to the door.
Brute One came in, looking as brutely as always. “Boss.”
“Get her a charger for her phone.”
He held out his hand, and I stared at it. Did he want me to get up?
“Phone,” he growled, making me jump and hand my phone over like it didn’t have my whole life on it. He left the room but didn’t close the door.
There was conversation outside, but I was unable to make out what they said. Brute One came back with a charger and my phone and plugged them both into the wall next to Jacob’s desk.
He left without another word, this time closing the door, and the room was again cased in silence. After a few minutes, I went over to the desk and turned my phone back on. As soon as it came alive, I was assaulted with text messages and voice mails.
A scroll through showed none were from my dad, but nearly all from Jameson and Maisie. I scrolled thought the texts first. Maisie was back from London and wanted to catch up. I texted her back first, making plans for tomorrow.
Jameson’s texts on the other hand weren’t as easy to deal with.
Jameson: Where did you go?
Jameson: Don’t be mad at Landon. He said he’s sorry he made your mouth blue. Call me.
Jameson: I’m getting worried.
Jameson: Now I’m officially worried.
Jameson: Where are you?
Jameson: Answer your phone.
Jameson: You can’t possibly be angry at me for something Landon did. Talk to me.
That was the last message, sent only two minutes ago. I typed out a response to prevent Jameson from coming after me.
Me: I’m ok, don’t worry. I’ll call you later.
I hit Send and looked at Jacob. “No calls from my dad.”
He studied my features and snatched my phone from my hand. It was still unlocked, and Jameson’s texts were open. He scrolled through the messages, ignoring my attempts at getting the phone back.
“Sit down,” he said, his voice sharp and commanding. My butt automatically heeded his command, and I found myself seated on the uncomfortable antique furniture again.
“Were you sending him an encrypted message?”
“What? No. Of course not. I just told him that I was okay. Otherwise he would have started looking for me.”
“You told him you like big butts. The same thing you messaged me. What does it stand for?”
Oh. The. Shame. Som
eone was going to die. Slowly, very slowly.
“Someone messed with my phone’s autocorrect. It’s not a secret message, and it doesn’t mean anything other than I might go to jail in the near future after I kill the person who did this.”
He studied my face and seemed to believe me when he nodded and gave me my phone back. “He replied.”
I saw Jameson’s response as soon as I had my phone safely back in my hands.
Jameson: Are you drunk? Let me pick you up.
Me: Not drunk, just another present from Landon. No need to pick me up. I’m fine where I am.
Jameson: And where is that exactly?
Me: I gotta go. Call you later.
My phone rang, scaring the shit out of me, and I dropped it on the floor. Jameson’s name flashed on the screen. Jacob bent down to pick it up and handed it to me. “Answer it. Otherwise he’ll just keep calling.”
I hesitated but knew he was right. Jameson wasn’t one to give up easily. And he knew something was wrong. I hit the Answer button.
“Hey.”
“What’s going on? Why are you trying to avoid me?” Jameson sounded hurt. It made my little sarcastic heart wail in agony.
“I’m not trying to avoid you. I’m just busy. At work.”
“You’re not at work. I went to the Donut Hole. Your boss said he fired you.”
“I got a new job. At a restaurant.”
“What restaurant?”
“A place near Hester Ave.”
“What’s it called?”
“You wouldn’t know it. I really need to get back. Don’t want to get fired on my first day. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Don’t—”
I cut him off by hanging up. I left the phone on the desk and flopped onto the couch.
“Jameson knows you’re lying to him,” Jacob said, never lifting his gaze from his computer screen.
“And how would you know?”
“He’s smart, and he obviously cares about you. No way did he buy your little story.”
Did everyone in this godforsaken town know each other?
“He doesn’t know where I am. And he is not going to call me back. Jameson is one of the most prideful men I have ever met. I’d be surprised if he still has my number by tomorrow.”
