Page 8 of Her Crew

Ace laughs. “Stacks didn’t save us. We saved ourselves.”

The thought of saving myself piques my interest and starts to soothe the burning anger inside me. Isn’t that what this is? What all of this is. The overeating, the stealing, the avoidance. Isn’t it all an attempt to save myself?

Doors begin to open and close, and the clowns begin filling the van again. Ace stares at an older guy, who I assume is their boss.

“Stacks!” Ace yells toward him.

The man pivots and changes course, heading right for us instead of the van. His dark eyes are already on me before any more words are spoken.

Ace motions to me when he draws closer. “I have someone here who’d like to join the crew.”

The man—Stacks—looks me up and down with a curl of his lip. “She’s a little young, eh?”

“She’s sevent⁠—”

“I’m eighteen,” I say, though I don’t blame him for his misquote. I look younger. It’s the baby face.

“Ace, can I talk to you over here?” he asks, pulling Ace toward the building again.

I can’t hear most of what they say, but I hear “fat” brought up at least twice. Maybe my weight doesn’t give the illusion of peasantry like he wants it to. I hate to tell him, but I am very fucking poor.

I’m not staying around to hear I’m too fat to be marketable in their big scam, so I turn around and start heading home.

“Tegan, hey!” Ace yells, and his jogging steps come up from behind me.

“What?”

“You got the job!”

I finally turn to face him. “How?”

“He’s a little concerned that you’re too . . . uh . . .”

“Fat?”

He laughs. “No, he thinks you need to clean up a bit, that’s all.”

“So take a shower and I’m hired? It’s that easy?”

“Almost.” He scratches the back of his neck and looks back at Stacks, who’s climbing into the van. “He said you have two weeks to prove your worth before you’re officially in, but you’ll be fine.”

Nothing has ever come easy in my life, so he’ll have to excuse me for being a bit wary of this sudden opportunity. And as sketchy as it sounds, that’s exactly what it is. An opportunity. Can I really afford to pass this up?

“I don’t know,” I say as I look at the van. “I don’t really want to cram myself into a space where I’m not wanted.”

“Don’t be silly.” Ace shrugs his shoulders and blasts me with that smile again. “I’m Stacks’ best seller, and I told him that I want you.”

Maybe it’s my crazy hormones, but when he says, “I want you,” my mind goes to the ways a man can want a woman. My cheeks flush with a warm heat, and I try to push the feeling away before he notices. Someone like him wouldn’t want someone like me. Especially when the women inside that van look much better than I do.

They aren’t fat. They aren’t dirty.

“You coming?” he asks.

“Now?”

“Yes, now. We’re leaving town tonight.”

The thought of cramming myself into a small space with strangers when I haven’t showered in who even remembers how long makes my stomach tighten. I’ll vomit my dinner onto the asphalt if I keep thinking about it. Everyone would hate me from the start. The stinky girl. The smelly fat girl.