Page 1 of Devil's Iris
1
LENI
“You would not believe who I just saw walking into a vehicle with some of the Mudrat’s crew looking rebellious as hell.”
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.I yank my phone away from my ear to glare at the caller ID, irritation flaring hot in my chest. I’m running late for work, and my nosy-ass neighbor wants to play twenty questions? We’re not even friendly with each other—hell, we barely tolerate each other’s existence.
She barrels on anyway. “I might have trailed the car and saw them going towards the hole, towards their trap house.”
“Does this have anything to do with me, Bree?” I pin my phone between my shoulder and ear while stuffing my purse with essentials—cash, keys, lip balm, and AirPods. The bare minimum to survive another day in this never-ending shitshow called life.
“Trust me, it haseverythingto do with you, Leni. One of them is a boy who just turned eighteen three weeks ago and is related to you.”
My heart jerks in my chest.No. He wouldn’t. Not after our conversation. Not after I specifically?—
“It’sEthan.” I can practically hear the eye roll in her voice because I didn’t play along with her little guessing game.
“That can’t be.” I cornered him just days ago, made him promise to stop hanging around with Henry, the new friend dragging him into all this shit.
“You calling me a liar? I know what the fuck I saw, thank you very much and?—”
“How long ago?” I cut her off, already walking towards my bedroom door where my sneakers wait neatly by the wall.
“I don’t know. I was out getting groceries when I saw him, so maybe thirty to forty minutes ago?”
And you’re just calling me now?I swallow the bitter retort, forcing myself to be grateful she’s calling at all. Though knowing Bree, she’s probably getting some twisted satisfaction out of this drama. The woman has had a stick lodged so far up her ass ever since she moved in next door last year and seems to take personal offense to my family’s mere presence. I still don’t know what crawled up there and died.
I jam my feet into my sneakers. “Alright, thanks for the heads-up.”
I start to pull the phone from my ear when she adds, “You should have a serious conversation with that boy, Leni. I’d hate to see him turn out like—” She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to. We both know she’s talking about Mom.
My spine goes rigid, and I grit my teeth, lips curling into a scowl. “Thank you,” I repeat, colder this time, then hang up before she can say another word.
Judgmental bitch. She’s about the same age as Mom and isn’t doing much better herself. No decent job, leeching off her children, spending her days playing garden gnome and neighborhood spy. She has no right to judge anyone.
And Ethan—God, what the hell is that little asshole thinking?He just put me in the position of having to listen to that shit.
Blood boiling, I lock my bedroom door behind me,dropping the key in my purse. Hard lesson learned: Leave your door unlocked around Mom, and your stuff magically disappears.
I march down the barren hallway into our excuse for a living room. There’s just one couch now, and the wall where the TV used to hang has the freshest coat of paint in the entire place. A few weeks ago, I came home and it was simply gone.Poof.Just like all the other furniture that disappeared, piece by piece, as I grew up.
The woman herself is passed out on the couch. I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to kick it on my way past her. Not that it would be enough to wake her. Judging by the syringes and powder-streaked coffee table, she’s out of this world. At least for now.
As I step outside, the cool night breeze skates over my ankles, and it hits me—I forgot to put on socks.Perfect.Just another small misery to add to the pile. I let out a long, frustrated sigh and trudge to where my old scooter waits in the apartment complex parking lot, looking as tired as I feel. The thing is held together with duct tape and prayers, but it’s all I’ve got.
I straddle the seat and I’m pulling my helmet on when it dawns on me with all the grace of a punch to the ribs. I need to call Fred. Shit. The thought makes me want to throw up, but I can’t just show up late without calling or he might fire me on the spot. I already have two strikes. One more, and I’m toast.
The line barely rings once before he picks up. “You better be calling to tell me you’re about to pull into the diner.” His voice is so sharp it could slice through bone. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, steeling myself for the fallout.
“Iamabout to pull in. In like… another hour.” I wince as the words leave my mouth. An hour. Jesus, that sounds even worse out loud.
“Charlene.”
“I’m so sorry! Ethan got into trouble and I have to go pickhim up. I just need an extra hour, please. I’ll make up for it—I’ll stay two hours after my shift, whatever you need.”
Fred’s sigh is heavy. “This is the third time this week, Leni, and it’s only Wednesday. I understand your situation, but I need someone stable working with me. I can’t be constantly wondering if my employee is going to show up late again… if she even shows up at all.”
I remain silent, head bowed in shame.
