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He snorted, picked up his cup, then gestured for me to follow him.
“I’m on my way out,” he said. “I have to babysit tonight. Have you ever babysat twins?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never babysat one kid, let alone two.”
He snorted.
“What do you need?” he asked.
I went into my spiel about Ashe, and how she would be applying, refraining from telling him who exactly I was advocating for.
I didn’t tell him that it was all based on a bet, however.
He didn’t need to know that part.
I didn’t want her to get turned down before I’d officially won.
“I’m actually fully staffed for once in my goddamn life,” he said. “But I will keep her application for when—”
I interrupted him before he could finish.
“She’s on the last half a year of her criminal psychologist degree,” I said. “And she’s at the top of her class.”
Luke stopped speaking.
“Tell me more,” he ordered.
“She’s very good,” I continued. “All A’s in all of her classes. She’s able to multitask. I recommend her.”
He grinned. “You recommend her?”
I frowned. “Well, she drives me just a little bit crazy, and she enjoys it. But we won’t be working together all that much, I don’t think. She’d have to be put on days with her schooling, and I’d be on nights.”
Luke sighed.
It was at this point that I thought he might know who I was talking about. But I didn’t give him the info. He’d figure it out.
“I’ll take her application if she comes in. If I like what I see, I’ll talk to her,” he said as he got to his cruiser. “Now, wish me luck. I’m about to go wrangle some kids that don’t know right from wrong.”
With that, he got in his cruiser, and I walked back into the station for my keys.
Today was my day off, and I didn’t want to be spending it at the station when I could be spending it getting some shit done.
Like going to the grocery store and running to the home improvement store so that I could finish my back deck one of these days.
“You out, Spurlock?” Louis asked
My lips turned up into a smirk. “I’m out, other Spurlock.”
Louis laughed with me as I got my keys and left the building.
Funny enough, I wasn’t the one laughing the next day when Ashe showed up, immediately got the job, and got a salary offer twice as much as I got with zero experience under her belt.
Son of a bitch.Chapter 2
When the light flickers at my house, there’s a one percent chance that I will think electric issues is the cause and a 99% chance that I’ll credit it to demons and shit.
-Ashe’s secret thoughts
Ashe
The very next day I went and applied to the Kilgore Police Department.
Before I could so much as leave with my application, though, the front desk attendant stopped me from leaving.
“Wait, is your name Ashe?” she asked.
I frowned. “Yes.”
“Oh, great.” The woman smiled beautifully. “This is perfect. Ford said you might come by. Chief told me that Ford had someone coming in. You’re a popular girl today. Chief said if you did, to take you straight to him.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, but what?”
“Luke.” She stood up and pressed a button as she did. “Go ahead and follow the hall back. I’ll meet you at the first door and show you to his office.”
I did as she said, feeling kind of numb.
I didn’t want this to be this way.
I wanted to do this all on my own merits. I wanted to apply. I wanted to not have anything to do with the chief of police—who just happened to be my uncle.
I followed the woman with a feeling of dread rising up in my throat.
Flashes of everything I ever did wrong in my life followed directly behind me like a loaded train.
That time that Ford made me steal a piece of bubblegum from a store when I was twelve.
The time that he made me break into a house with him when we were fourteen because his buddy had all the good snacks, and he wanted some.
Oh, and the time that I accidentally stole a brisket from a store because it was on the bottom of the cart and the cart boy had loaded it up without me paying attention.
My dad had cooked it and told me thank you all before I’d even realized that I’d stolen it.
Needless to say, by the time that I arrived at Luke’s office, I’d fairly convinced myself to make a run for it.
I would have, too, had I not seen Ford’s laughing face as he watched me walk by him.
I narrowed my eyes at him when he saw the look of fear on my face.
“Good luck, Slag,” he teased, mouthing the words across the small room.
Slag.
The worst of the nicknames that he called me.
Out of them all—Soot, Ember, Slag, and Smut—Slag was my least favorite.
