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“Your predator just became the prey,” I assure Roswell, stretching my neck sideways until I hear it crack.
“I’ll send the details to your burner cell. Thanks, Screwy.” He hangs up, and a cool sensation flows through my bloodstream when I think about creating pain. I check the time on my phone. It’s late, but I still need to be sure. I bring up my VP’s name and hit call. The phone rings a few times before he picks up.
“You got a death wish or something?” he breathes heavily.
“The guy who Maddy said Verretti had his PI looking into, the other buyer. What was his name?” I ask.
“Fistler?” he responds.
“Got it.” I hang up just as the text comes through with an address from Roswell. I’ve never questioned if fate is actually a thing. But Roswell calling me tonight with a name, just when I need a release, and that name belonging to the man who wanted to buy Lydia, sure as hell ain’t got me arguing it.
I head across the street to the motel room where I’ve been crashing. And for the first time in weeks, I sleep a little easier. Tomorrow, there will be release, there will be blood, and above all, there will be justice.
“You feeling any better?” Alex waddles out of the bathroom and lowers herself onto one of the chairs beside me.
“I should be asking you that.” I feel guilty for being such a miserable house guest this past week. All I’ve done is mope and cry. Alex has been more than patient with me, waking me from my nightmares and sometimes even sleeping beside me to make me feel better.
“The guys are due back today. You can get the answer to all those questions that have been driving you crazy,” she rubs her hand over her stomach and sighs in that same pitiful way I’ve grown used to this week.
“How did your session with Grace go yesterday? You were quiet after.”
“It was good, nothing new, though. I never thought it would feel good to talk about what happened. But Grace seems to have this way of making me open up and flush it out.”
“She’s good at what she does because she cares,” Alex points out.
“It’s a shame Screwy can’t speak to her. Has anyone ever suggested it?” I try to start a conversation that may unearth a little more about him. Alex and Squealer have taken great care of me, but they’ve been tight-lipped about Screwy.
I heard them arguing the other night when they thought I was sleeping. Alex called Screwy a selfish bastard, and Squealer didn’t take it all that well. He even stormed out of the cabin. But he was back the next morning, and since they’re acting like it didn’t happen, so am I.
“You wanna come down to the club and help Marilyn in the kitchen? She always likes to cook up a feast when the boys get back from a run.” Alex tries to change the subject. I’ve got used to that this week. It’s what everyone seems to do when I mention Screwy.
Last time I was down at the club, I encountered that girl in the bedroom, and I’ve been thinking about her a lot these past few days.
I’ve come to the conclusion that what I hated most about her is the fact that she has been with Screwy, and I haven’t. She was beautiful and confident about herself. The total opposite of me, and the more I think about it, the more I conclude that I’m not what he wants.
Screwy feels sorry for me. He has a good heart that I don’t think he even realizes is within himself, but he doesn’t lust for me. I’m just a pity case for him. It’s why he wants me to find my family. So I will be out of the picture, no longer his burden, and he can go back to his life without me.
The thought stings, and when I feel the onset of more tears, I bravely sniff them back and gather up the breakfast things from the table.
“It’ll be good to get out for a few hours,” I agree, moving toward the sink. I can’t decide if the fluttering in my stomach is excitement or nerves. It’s certainly not the same kind of nerves I felt whenever I heard my trainer coming. But what scares me is the fact Screwy seems to have the power to hurt me so much worse than he ever did.
I wonder what will have changed when he returns? Will I still be able to stay at his cabin? Or was that note the end for us?
“I’ll get changed and then drive us down.” Alex gets up and makes her way to the bedroom.
“If it’s okay, I think I’d prefer to take the walk down there alone. The fresh air will do me some good.” I smile, knowing that I need some time to prepare myself for later.
“Sure, whatever you want.” Alex gives me the ‘I’m so glad I'm not you right now’ smile that she’s mastered over the past few days.
I leave about half an hour after her, taking the walk down to the club slowly and appreciating the freedom of the open air and pretty scenery.
When I think back to being in that room, I wish I could get a message to my past self, one that would tell me it would all be over one day. That there are good people in the world, and that the sky is actually as blue as I remembered it.
“What’s up, Vipe?” Rogue’s voice comes from the garage. Her hair and make-up are always so perfect. She could be mistaken for a model from a magazine if it weren't for the dirty pink overalls tied around her waist.
“Hey Rogue.” I force another smile.
“Haven’t seen you around much.” She steps closer, rubbing her hands into her overalls and leaving an oily streak behind.
