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And just like that, everyone gets on the same page.
Because my happiness is important to them.
It doesn’t escape my notice that none of them attempt to bombard me with questions and I feel grateful for that. As their voices drown out the noise in my head, I let their excitement grip me, letting the slaps on my back and lame jokes slide.
But even as I grin ruefully, part of me can’t help but wonder if they will be singing the same tune if they knew my past, about the blood that stains my hands.
10
Eve
“Three more days?” I ask.
Ron sounds so excited on the other end of the line that I don’t have the heart to tell him that I miss him and that I wish my best friend were here with me to help me sort out all this mess in my head.
“It’s amazing here, Eve! This old dude bought like three of my pieces on the spot. And Mark told him triple the price, and he said yes! He didn’t even hesitate!”
I can’t help but smile at the infectious happiness. “That’s great. Don’t let the money get to your head though. Otherwise, your ego will have to start paying rent as well.”
“Oh, boo hoo. I’m rich, bitches!”
I laugh. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. Mila misses you a lot.”
“And I miss the munchkin.” There is a yearning in Ron’s voice and I know he misses our makeshift family.
“Hey, Eve?” There is hesitation in his voice, and I catch on to it.
My hand pauses from where I am slicing the onions for an omelet. “What is it?”
“Something weird happened, and I don’t know what to make of it.”
My hand tightens on the knife. “What happened? Did Mark do anything?”
“No,” Ron immediately protests. His voice sobered. “It’s about Mark, but he didn’t do anything.”
I frown, staring down at the onions I apparently just butchered. “Then, what is it?”
Silence from the other end, and then, “Mark has a burner phone.”
I blink. “Like, the
disposable ones you see on detective shows?”
Ron’s voice is low, and I hear the whine of confusion in his voice. “Yeah.”
“How do you know it’s a burner phone?”
A slight pause. “Because there was a plastic bag full of them. I counted at least seven.”
“Jesus,” I say loudly, stunned. “What is he, a peddler?”
Ron sounds miffed. “I am more under the impression that he may be a spy or something.”
“Mark is too uptight to be a spy. That stick up his ass makes him ineligible. Besides, he hates the sight of blood, remember?” I tap the knife on the chopping board as I reference to one of the nights I had a nosebleed and Mark rushed out the room like a little girl.
But even as I say it, I feel worried. “Does Mark know you know?”
I can almost see Ron shaking his head. “I was looking for a shirt in his suitcase, and I saw them. It’s more than just that. I didn’t tell him.” Hesitation. “I don’t think I should. There’s something else.”
