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A second passed.
Another.
His eyes rolled back and he hit the floor face first.
Hm. My timing’s off tonight.
I took in a deep breath and let my stare slowly move to the man still looking at me, mentally undressing me as he scraped a finger through one of the last remaining lines and rubbed it across his gums.
I had a pretty good hunch I’d been forced to pay for that cocaine.
Not like it was the first time Momma shared her drugs with the random friends she brought home. Not like it would be the last.
“My, my, my, my, my . . . what do we have here? A party for little ol’ me?” I let my mouth stretch into a wicked grin and relaxed against the wall as I listened for anything else in the trailer. Anyone else.
Nothing.
“If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have kept you waiting.”
The man grabbed his crotch and leaned back on the dirty couch. “Then come over here and say you’re sorry, baby.”
I dropped my purse on the counter beside me as I pushed from the wall and walked slowly toward the man, hips swaying exaggeratedly as I did. My eyes never once left his, but I knew without turning my head that unless she was passed out in one of the bedrooms, my mom wasn’t in this trailer.
I ran my fingers through my hair and down my body just as slowly as I moved, twisting my lips sensually as I neared him. When his hazy gaze landed on my chest, I continued trailing my hands over my waist and hips to pause on what I’d been aiming for.
Slipping out the knife, I opened it soundlessly and straddled the man’s legs. “What was that word you wanted me to say again, baby?”
He reached for my waist and smiled, showing mostly rotted teeth. “I don’t plan on you being able to talk at all, bitch.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” I said as I pressed the tip of the knife to his throat. “Name calling isn’t nice. Do you call all your whores such dirty words? Oh wait, I’m not yours.” I let out a long, wild laugh and pressed the knife harder against his skin, drawing a bead of blood. My laugh trailed off into a giggle, my lips falling into a pout. “Aw, poor guy. Did someone lose his appetite?” Another peal of laughter, and his bloodshot eyes widened.
“You crazy? Back up off me, bitch.”
I leaned away to press my free hand against my chest in mock admiration. “You noticed? It normally takes men until our third date for them to notice the crazy. Or maybe it’s the fourth. Or was it the fourth minute? Who can keep track anymore?” I leaned back in and said, “If I wasn’t worried about catching five different diseases, I’d slit your throat and drink your blood while you watched, unable to move because you were drowning in it. Now where’s my mom and why are you using her drugs, baby?”
He struggled between me and the couch, but didn’t attempt to move me off him. “You’re a fucking psycho!”
“We already established that,” I said calmly. “Where’s my mom?”
“Get the fuck off me.”
“Oh. Would you look at that . . . I have a knife.” I pressed it harder into his neck and drew a slow line down it. “Oh, oh, oh, does that hurt?” I sucked in a breath through my teeth and leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Now I’m going to ask one more time. If you don’t answer, the next line will be through your dick, and we’ll see who’s the bitch then. Okay, baby?”
“She went out,” he yelled.
I bit down on my lip and grinned.
My mom was terrified of the dark. There was no way in hell she’d be caught outside this trailer at night alive.
“Hm. Now I do believe that was the wrong answer. I also believe that was the last chance I’d given you. But, you know, who’s keeping track? Oh, wait . . . me.”
“You’ve got the devil in you. You’re crazy,” he gritted out, the muscles in his neck straining from the way he was trying to disappear deeper into the couch. Away from the blade.
I laughed as I moved slowly off his legs, never letting up on the pressure against his neck. I swayed back and forth once I was standing, twisting the knife as I did.
“Nah, baby. I may be crazy, but if either of us has the devil inside, that’d be you. Now, I do believe I made you a promise if you couldn’t tell me where my mom—” I twisted, half a second from throwing the knife at whoever had just stepped through the trailer door and barely managing to keep it from slipping through my fingers when my mom came stumbling in.
Sunglasses on her face. Still in the same ratty outfit she’d been wearing the last three days.
