Page 2 of First in Line

He chuckles, his lips bending into a broad smile that extends past the hole in his mask. “I’ve never seen you there.”

“I started last week.”

“I see… I’ll try to come soon, then.”

My cheeks heat up at his words, and I’m forced to stare up front again. If I’m right about who he is, then I should stay away from him. No matter how handsome and charming he might be, Jackson Reyes is trouble. The mere fact that he’s here with his friends, trying to score some alcohol despite being underage…

Some commotion in the store grabs our attention, and as we twist around to look into the wide windows, I can’t help but ask, “And you, what are you doing here so late?”

“Oh, we’re robbing the store.”

My jaw falls open, and I look at my masked interlocutor with shock. “What?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all good.”

“All good?!”

“Yeah, one of my buddies in there? It’s his brother’s shift. He’s only putting up a fight for the cameras. We’re splitting it four ways. And the owner is an asshole who sells drugs on the side, so he won’t get the police involved. Not too much, at least.”

The struggle inside the store seems to intensify, and when the loud bang of a shotgun resonates through the glass, I jump back.

“Don’t worry, that’s also part of it. We choreographed it and everything,” he explains with a shrug.

Despite his confident assurance, I can’t help but feel like this could go terribly wrong. “Is this—is this a joke? Are you joking?”

“Nah, it’s legit. I’m the getaway driver and everything. Which reminds me, I should probably get back to it.” He looks away from the windows and back to me before offering me a crooked grin. “I’ll see you around,princess,” he cheekily says with a wink.

Still stunned, I stand there while he trots back to the car and climbs in. Just as he starts the engine, his two friends, who now have their masks down, rush out of the store, each carrying a bag filled to the brim.

I watch it all unfold as the car pulls back in a perfect maneuver, then practically flies out of the parking lot, tires screeching on the asphalt. I didn’t notice earlier, but the license plates have been either removed or blacked out. It has just disappeared at the corner when the store clerk runs out with a bloody nose and his phone to his ear.

“They just drove away! You need to send someone now!” he shouts into it. I vaguely hear the 911 operator answer something, then he replies, “I told you, I don’t fucking know!”

If that man is indeed in on this, he deserves an Oscar for his performance. He’s very convincing. As he turns around to head back inside, he notices me, pauses, then walks in. I’m still reeling from everything that happened when a red sedan drives into the lot.About time…

My mom parks right by me, then steps out of the car as soon as the engine’s off. “Sorry, baby,” she quickly says. “Let me get my bottle, and we’ll go home.”

“About that …”

“What?”

“I don’t think the store is operational.”

Confused, she turns to the door and the “Open” neon sign on it. I, on the other hand, keep my eyes on the spot where the blue car screeched off. I still can’t believe I witnessed all that.

Jackson Reyes… Who knew?

The balled-up stress in the back of my throat isn’t going away. In fact, it’s only getting worse. Swallowing requires effort, which is ridiculous. I’m only here for one simple thing, and then I’m out and on my way back home.

I can do this. I drove four hours, and I’m not letting my nerves get the best of me.

It’s not like I have a choice, regardless. I’ve tried the proper, legal way, but nothing has worked. This might be my best chance, so I’m taking it.

Adjusting myself on the lounge chair, I smooth the skirt of my white dress down my thighs. This place is far too fancy for me. The lush opulence of the hotel’s lounge only adds to my anxiety. Anyone who looks at me can guess I don’t belong here, with my cheap heels and knockoff handbag. I mean, I could pay for a couple of nights in this place, but then I’d have a hard time paying my mortgage next month.

But it doesn’t matter. I’m not here to impress or fool anyone. I’m here for a specific person, and as soon as I’ve seen him, I’m gone and never returning. My eyes travel to the thick envelope on the table next to my drink. All it’ll take is two minutes of bold bravery, then I’m done.

The knot in my stomach tightens at the mere idea of seeing him again. Six years. No, more than that. It’s been over seven years since I last saw Jackson. It’s troubling to think I was certain we’d spend the rest of our lives together, yet I haven’t seen him in that long.