Page 22 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
Shock knew precisely where I was.It was a matter of time before I’d be taken in broad daylight, just like Cara.And if that happened, I was a dead woman.There would be no normal.Ever.And Shock was the kind of man to hold grudges.He’d keep me alive out of sheer spite as he tortured me into insanity.
George glanced at the paper again.His eyes filled with tears.He hastily swiped them away with his thumb and shoved the paper in his pocket.He blew out a breath.“I’ll make a call for Cara.‘Cops won’t know.”
He disappeared into the back.When the police came, we all told the truth, as much of it as we could.No one had seen her.Not even the customers.It was as if everyone had amnesia or something.Which was absurd.But maybe George’s friends could help Cara.I had to believe that.
That evening, I ate dinner with George.He’d taken me out for burgers at a joint in his old neighborhood.Five of his friends sat with us in a crowded booth.I squashed between the absurdly large men, eating what felt like my last meal.
Four of them openly carried handguns.
All of them had scarification or tattoos.
Not one of them said much about the silly white girl in their midst.They joked, talked about old times, and, every sentence or two, watched the door.I was making them a target.
“You shake any harder, I’m going to take it personally.”George elbowed me.
“I’m sorry.”It spilled out of my mouth on repeat.
He wrapped his arm around me, almost smothering me with his crushing side hug.“Ain’t nothing to be sorry about.We got ya.”
I shook my head.I wasn’t safe here.That itchy knife was twisting.Like a clock countdown.Tick tick tick.My life was measured in seconds, maybe minutes.“We should get away from the windows.”
To a man, they raised their eyes to the front of the hamburger shop.There was a nod and a tip of the head.Two men peeled out of the booth and walked outside for a smoke.
George kept me pinned under his arm.I could barely breathe.
Bam!Bam!The glass of the shop spiderwebbed but didn’t break.Answering shots from the two men who’d stepped outside rang out.George dragged me from the booth toward the back door.
One of the men followed.There was a van in the alley, idling.George and I piled in while his friend ran to the mouth of the alley, gun in hand.He fired twice and then stood in the opening, staring down the street.Sirens blared in the distance, which drowned out the alarm bell ringing inside the shop.
“Stay down, baby-girl.BJ’s motioning us to move.”
The van rocked, and I held onto the bare wall.I marveled at the similarities between this van and the one Shock used to transport hookers from Pittsburgh to Skilletsville.This one reeked of pot more than that one, but in the end, I was still a victim.A statistic.A burden on society because a man—no.I used to think that way.But no more.I’d look ahead.Stay positive.I’d made friends who were helping.There was good in this world despite the ugliness of it.I’d be brave and smart and not let this defeat me.Ever.
We stopped outside a brick apartment building.The wings wrapped around a parking lot.I followed George from the van to a sedan.
“Gray?”
He laughed.“It blends in.”
“Ironic, no?”
We left Trenton at five in the morning.Ate donuts and drank coffee in Wilkes Barre at eight fifteen and waited for the adult toy store to open.
“Tell me what he said again.”
“He said leave early.”I didn’t like this any more than George did.I watched the traffic outside the donut shop pick up for rush hour.Customers came and went, grabbing coffee and food and not noticing the odd couple in the back booth near the bathrooms.
“Nine fifteen.It’s open.You ready?”
Hell no.I hadn’t slept a wink.I probably looked like shit again.“George?”
He looked up from his coffee.“Yeah?”
“Tell your friends, and tell yourself, thank you.I hope they find Cara.”
“I hope so, too.I won’t see you again, will I?”
I shook my head.“This time, there’s no going back.”
