AllFreeNovel
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Between the two of us, who would win the medal of pity?
I’m not much of a bragger, but Daze, hands down. At least I don’t have a kid forced to wipe up my beer stains with a dirty dishrag.
“I’ll do that!” I say the moment I spot Sammy on his hands and knees. I take the rag and nod toward the abandoned cell phone. “Why don’t you keep watching Spongebob? I won’t tell. Promise.”
“Really?” His lips part into a smile.
The moment he skips off, I keep cleaning. There’s a grim satisfaction in ripping away the harsh, unwelcoming facade of Daze’s apartment, revealing the relative plainness underneath. Some tough guy he is.
Without the mounds of garbage, my granny could have lived here, among the simple furniture. Minus the bedroom. Even scrubbed clean and with the bed draped in the “blue sheets,” I find shoved in a closet, that room screams bachelor pad, down to the condoms left on the nightstand for anyone to see.
I’m reminded of what Lyra mentioned—You’ve been out for three months and barely utilized your custody.
Judging from the state of the infamous red sheets, it seems like Daze’s been too busy working on another round of mouths to feed to focus on the one he already has. What a guy.
A guy I’ve slept with within an hour of meeting him.
Sighing, I rake my fingers through my hair, contemplating the girl I find watching me from a mirror hanging beside a narrow closet across from the bed.
Weeks without fresh highlights have left my hair scraggly and limp. Sandy-brown roots clash with whitish-blond ends. I look like I’m wilting. My skin is a mess. I’m breaking out all along my chin, and wearing Daze’s shirt—and nothing else—I look…
Like the opposite of Good old Frey Heywood. I’m a damned soul of the worst kind—unrepentant when it comes to my corruption.
“Ms. lady?” A small hand tugs on the hem of my shirt, drawing my attention.
Sammy still has Daze’s phone in one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other. Only now do I realize how much darker it is in the apartment. The time displayed on the phone’s screen proclaims it’s just after six. “I’m supposed to eat din-din before my bedtime.”
Going off the items in the fridge, his options consist of either beer or week-old milk.
“I...um...do you like pizza?” I wager half-heartedly. It’s a never-fail option from my childhood—until I remember Lyra’s warning about tomatoes. “Um, never mind. I...uh...”
Think, Frey.I purse my lips, scanning the bare counters and coming up short. In my haste to clean, I think I threw away just about everything that wasn’t too big to fit into the trash. But if Daze truly knew Hale, he’d recognize my brother’s trademark phrase.
There is always a plan B.
“Hey, Sammy?” I sink down to my knees so that I’m on his level, able to stare directly into those huge gray eyes. “Do you know if your daddy has any money?”
“Like a piggy bank?” He wrinkles his mouth, thinking. Then he nods and takes my hand, leading me back into the bedroom. Sure enough, underneath a corner of the mattress, we discover a wad of cash tied with a rubber band. How original.
Stealing is wrong. I tell myself that repeatedly as I thumb through the stack of bills. Fifties. Hundreds. There’s at least a few thousand right here in my hand.
Any guilt I feel diminishes when I consider how long it’s been since he left. Far longer than four hours. It’s after six, and Sammy’s stomach is growling loud enough to rival the sound from the cell phone. So is mine, for that matter.
“What do you say we go get some groceries for Daddy’s house, hmm?” I ask, fighting to sound less malicious than I feel.
“Okay!” Sammy races into the living room and returns with his backpack. Paired with his boots, he looks like a tiny toy soldier ready to embark on an adventure. While I look like his beat-up Barbie doll companion fished from the bottom of a donation toy bin.
“Give me a second.”
I slip back into Daze’s room and squeeze past the mattress for the closet. He doesn’t own much by way of variety. Just a few hoodies, one of which I steal, and some assorted bottoms. Out of the latter selection, only a pair of shorts with a drawstring manages to fit me.
“You ready?”
Sammy nods, and together we tiptoe from the apartment with matching apprehension. The same thought seems to be on both our minds the moment we cross the threshold.
“What if Daddy comes back?” Sammy asks.
I shrug, though I doubt I come off anywhere near as confident as I intend to.
