Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
It’s a number I don’t recognize. I let it go to voicemail, then read the text that the same number sent to me.
It’s Lena. I’m not sure you remember me.
I almost laugh at the absurdity of the statement. I remember that tight ponytail in her hair and the spark in her eyes. She’s ready to start her adventure with me and our family. She’s ready to give herself to me.
My mom’s in trouble. I need to ask you a few questions. Please answer.
As soon as I finish reading her text, the phone vibrates again. I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed, wondering what new mess this is. Who has Simone gotten involved with?
I answer the call, making myself cold as I do before violence. Or a job. Or both. “Lena,” I say, failing right away. My voice gets too husky. My throat is tight. I wish she were sitting on my lap, my hand resting on her leg. Or her chest, so I could feel her heartbeat. Then I’d lean in and taste her lips.
“J-Jamie?” she says, with a cute stutter. “I need to know something.”
“Explain what’s happening.”
“No, I just… I don’t know if I can.”
“Can what? Trust me?”
She swallows. I imagine her twisting the phone cord around her hand, even if she’s using a cell. Maybe she’s biting her lip. Then I see me approaching her, wrapping my arms around her, holding her tight so she doesn’t have to be afraid.
“Did you give Mom the money to buy this place?” she says, her voice firmer now. “Yes or no?”
I grit my teeth, goddamnit. “Explain what happened.”
“No, I—”
I don’t raise my voice, but my tone gets cold. Truly cold. It’s how I speak to drug lords and dons and supposed kingpins. “Explain. What. Happened.”
CHAPTER THREE
Lena
It’s difficult to understand the effect his voice has on me. I’m sitting on the couch, picking at a loose strand of my pants, trying to be as brave as possible. However, his voice makes me feel like a terrified little girl. There’s a hint of a threat in it.
Suddenly, it’s like I’m hearing myself answer rather than consciously doing it. “Mom didn’t return from Vegas. I mean, her flight checked in, the cops said, but she’s not here. They think she’s just extending her bender, I guess. When I got home earlier, there was a note. It mentioned something about my dad’s wallet. Get them Dad’s wallet, and I’ll see Mom again.”
“Read the note to me,” he grunts.
I bite down. I almost snapped at him then, but he’s speaking like he’s used to being in charge. It’s weird. There’s this underlying threat to everything he says as if he’ll somehow hurt me if I don’t read the note aloud. He’s not the man I’ve been fantasizing about, that’s for sure. Is that a surprise? I never really knew him.
“Lena.” Just as gruff, his voice sends a jolt through me. “The note.”
I read it aloud. “See, just what I said.” Maybe this addition is a little petty, but I’ll take what I can get at this point.
“Are you still at home?” he asks.
“Y-yes.”
“Stay there,” he says.
“Wait, you’re coming?”
“Don’t move.”
He hangs up. I almost call him back, but there’s no point if he’s coming here anyway. I walk into the foyer and see myself in the full-length mirror. I’m wearing jeans and a baggy sweater, the outfit I threw on for the library. I’m currently working at a restaurant and also a grocery store. I didn’t do very well in high school, but I enjoy staying busy. The library’s my way of trying to catch up, I guess.
Is it crazy that I want to change outfits? I imagine going upstairs, finding something… feminine, maybe. Maybe he’d like it if I wore an outfit that hugged my curves. I’m not even sure I have any outfits like that, but—
Outfits? I’m standing here when Jamie King is on the way, thinking about outfits? What if he’s coming here to hurt me? I never got that sense from him. Scary and intimidating, but he wouldn’t hurt a woman. Not an innocent. He’d always give off that vibe, but maybe I’ve massively misjudged him.
Should I even be at the house when he gets here? Maybe I should go straight to the cops and explain everything, give them the note, and tell them about Jamie’s reaction. If I told them that Jamie King was instantly interested, to the point of quickly driving right to me, that would be suspicious, right? They’d be able to question him and get more information.
This is assuming the cops do their jobs right. I’ve seen police do bad things, but I’ve also seen civilians do bad things. I’ve seen people—cops or not—do good things, too. If this was our old neighborhood, there were a couple of beat cops I could probably talk to. I’d seen them do the right thing over the years.