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Time will tell if it was a mistake.
Lorenzo stares at me for a minute. Lines form on his forehead. He’s assessing me, but he smiles. Not one that says he’s about to gut me either, which is nice.
“That might be so,” he allows, “but let’s be honest here, Trent. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know it was me, and if it points at me, it points back to you.”
He has a point.
“You’re right.”
“Is that all you got? Or did you have something else to talk about?”
“Nope, that’s it. I just wanted to double-check that there were no loose ends.”
He lifts his glass, takes a swig, and places it back down. “There are never loose ends.”
“Do I even want to know what you did?”
“Haven’t you figured out by now that you never want to ask me that question? No one is talking, Trent. Anyone who was involved, anyone that could have been a possible liability, is in the ground. You got me?”
He winks.
A fucking wink.
Shit.
“I got you.”
“Good.” He slides my glass back toward my hand, and it slams into my palm with more force than necessary. “Now, let’s drink and forget this shit. It’s been a shit day, and I need to get drunk.”
My fingers curve around the scotch. “I’m driving.”
“Stop being a pussy and get drunk with me.”
And seeing as that wasn’t a question, I decide to say fuck it.
I grab the decanter and pour myself another.
This is going to be a long night.
27
Payton
* * *
I hurry out of class.
If I don’t, I’ll miss the train.
Missing the train will bring a long list of other problems for me.
Namely, one named Trent Aldridge.
His lectures are not something I’m in the mood for right now. It’s bad enough I still have to stop by the library before I head back to the city.
I make my way across campus, but I don’t get very far before that familiar feeling of being followed creeps up on me. Stopping to turn around, I come face-to-face with a man standing a few feet away from me. He’s around forty, with a baseball cap . . . again.
Is it the man from the truck? This time, however, he has a camera in his hand. It’s pointed at me.
Snap. Snap.
What the hell.
I march right up to him before I can stop myself. There is no doubt in my mind this is the work of Trent. He’s probably having me followed. Taking pictures of me for god knows what?
“Give me that camera!” I shout. “It’s not cool to take pic—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re taking pictures of me.”
“No—actually, I’m not, I’m taking pictures of my kid.”
“Dad, is everything okay?” I look behind me, and there is a kid my age.
Shit.
My cheeks begin to warm.
“I-I’m so sorry,” I mutter out. I have never been more embarrassed in my life. My paranoia is officially getting ridiculous.
No one is following you.
No one is taking pictures.
With my head down, I whisper I’m sorry before sneaking off, but I don’t get very far before I hear a familiar voice calling my name.
“Accusing someone in public. That’s a new low for you,” Erin says.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, looking around her to make sure Brad isn’t with her.
The only thing worse than a surprise visit from Erin is a surprise visit from Brad.
“Well, since you don’t answer my calls . . .” She trails off, being ambiguous on purpose.
She’s right.
I don’t answer every time she calls. What’s the point? Every time I speak to her, she asks me what’s going on with Ronald’s money.
Nothing.
Nothing is going on with the money.
The answer is still the same answer I have had for months.
I have to wait until I’m twenty-two. No matter how often I tell her this, my sister never seems to grasp it.
A part of that is my fault. I didn’t tell her about the deal I made with the devil. I didn’t tell her he’s basically blackmailing me. I’m going to have to at some point, or she will never leave me alone. Period.
I decide that moment is now.
“I don’t answer your phone calls because there’s no point,” I say, shifting my textbooks into my other hand. “I have nothing new to tell you.”
Her eyes open wide at my tone. “What do you mean, nothing new? You said you would get me some cash. Cough it up, Payton.”
“I know what I said, but that doesn’t mean it will be easy.”
“Can’t you just ask for it? It’s yours.”
“If only it were that easy,” I mutter under my breath. It’s now or never. Time to spit it all out. I sigh, going for it. “The thing is, I can’t. It’s already hard enough for him to pay for anything else.”
She narrows her eyes, clearly not believing me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
