Page 16 of Good Girls Beg

"One thing at a time, Theodora," Mr. Middle said slowly. The longer version of my name sounded like honey on his tongue. He’d looked me up. Of course, I hadn't tried to hide my identity, it was right there on the crowdfunding site.

"Teddie," I said anyway. "Everyone calls me Teddie."

I didn't miss the snort from the guy on the right. What was Mr. Bored’s problem? I was tempted to tell him he could leave if I was annoying him, but right now, I needed these guys more than they needed me.

That is to say, I needed their money. Implied money. If this was a waste of time…

Blondie glanced over at him, glaring.

I should have worn the mask I brought home form Vertical. It was around here somewhere. The thought I might need it, hadn’t cross my mind.

Since they knew my name, it wouldn't have helped to conceal my identity anyway. No, that ball was firmly in their court. The knowledge made me uneasy, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

"You need money to save the bar," Mr. Middle said. "We have money.” That was a start.

"What are you asking for in return?" I asked carefully. "A percentage of the profits? Part ownership of the bar?"

What would my dads think of that? Loams was their baby. They'd put their hearts, souls, and wallets into it. Someone else coming in and wanting to help make decisions? That wouldn't sit well with them. Especially if that person was Mr. Bored. I had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't try to contain his delightful personality for their benefit. If ‘asshole’ was his default mode, that wouldn't go down well at all.

"We're not interested in any of those things," Mr. Middle said. "We're after something more interesting, more…" He paused for a moment. "Personal."

The word lingered between us for a few heartbeats. Clearly intended to be significant.

"What do you mean, personal?" I asked, looking sidelong in roughly the direction of the camera.

"We'll talk about it in person. I'll message you the time and place." Without another word, the call was ended, leaving me staring at the Zoom logo.

"What the— Okay then," I said, aware I was talking to myself. Apparently, asshole mode extended beyond Mr. Bored.

A moment later, a message popped up in the corner of the screen. He didn’t waste any time.

If I had any fucking sense, I should block Hel6913 before this went any further. They’d messed with me enough as it was. In spite of the assurances, they might still be wasting my time. The question was, why? Didn’t they have better things to do?

What if they were legit though? I could turn my back on exactly what we needed to keep Loams running. Could I forgive myself if I found out that was what I’d done? Could my dads?

Curiosity, and the desire not to have regrets, got the better of me. I pressed on the message.

The location wasn't a remote beach. It was a small park a block from Loams. One with a playground usually overrun with children and their carers. Not the place you'd ask someone to go if you were intending to murder them. Unless you were particularly sadistic.

I wasn't going to rule out that possibility. From the brief conversation, I got the impression Mr. Bored had a sadistic streak a mile wide.

Did I have a masochistic streak to go with it?

Was I intending to go?

This whole situation was bizarre to say the least, but what choice did I have? If they had money and were willing to part with some of it, it might be enough to save the bar. At the very least, it might keep the place afloat long enough for us to figure out a more permanent solution.

I fiddled with the end of my hair and wondered what he meant by 'personal.' What could they want in return for money? What could they want from me that their money wouldn't buy them?

Honestly, chances were I'd turn up to the park and they wouldn't. Maybe I'd find a film crew waiting for me, having a good laugh over a ridiculous prank.

I closed the laptop as Lyra headed into the room, her hair damp from the shower. She got settled on the couch, a container of ice cream in her hand, two spoons sticking out of the top. In her other hand she held a bottle of wine.

"You're just in time," she said. "It's been too long since we binged anything."

"It's Monday night," I pointed out. "Don't you have to work tomorrow?"

"Yeah but why should that stop us from having fun?" She patted the couch next to her.