Page 13 of Lords of Misrule
Her fingers slide over the steering wheel, pausing to pick at a spot where the leather’s peeling up.
“Yes.”
“How? The relationship with the student probably won’t be enough. It’s fucking gross on his part, but you’re of age.”
“I was hoping if I waited long enough, I’d find something. He’s gotten more and more bold with some of the things he says and does. And there are university policies.”
“So threatening to report him and hoping he’ll lose his job?”
“Without evidence… Without documenting it I don’t know if it’ll be enough. And I want to report him. Stop him from doing this to other women.”
“If you blackmail him and then report him, what’s to stop him from going after you then?”
“Nothing.” She sighs.
“So what’s more important?”
“I don’t want other students to fall into his fucking trap. I want it to end with me. But I also need the money.”
I take a breath, the puzzle pieces starting to come together. I follow her gaze out the windshield.
“Because you owe the guy that was yelling at you?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Freedom.” She shakes her head, looking down again. “I don’t owe him. My brother does.” She lets out a loud sigh, slamming her hand against the steering wheel and looking over at me. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You’ll just use it all against me. I’m a fucking idiot. Always trusting people I shouldn’t.”
“Why doesn’t your brother make the money back? Is he around?”
“He has my brother, and he won’t let him go until I pay him off.”
“Pay him off for what?”
“My brother won’t share all the details with me. I don’t think I have the whole story. But my brother owes him. A lot of money and he’s a cop so—”
“The guy that was out here is a cop?”
She nods. “Dirty as fuck, but a cop all the same.”
Fuck me this girl is in deep.
“What was your brother doing that he tangled with a dirty cop?” It’s a thing I’ve always tried to avoid. Successfully so far, but it seems like my time on that might be running out. Especially if this one thinks he can put his hands on her like he did.
“I don’t know the details. Drugs obviously. Maybe more. Like I said Brady won’t tell me everything. He’s a fucking baby. Eighteen years old. He deserves a second chance. He only did the things he did to try to stay off the streets.” Her tears start to flow again, and I’m fucking terrible at this part. I reach out and put my hand on her knee, rubbing a circle over it through the fabric of her jeans, trying to comfort her. She doesn’t slap it away, so I assume it’s helpful.
“How much do you still owe him?”
“10K. I’ve been trying to work more shifts when I can around school. Took out some loans to pay the first part and buy myself time. But it’s not enough. I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough, and he’s only given me six more weeks.”
“Yeah. I get that.” I glance over at the diner. It’s dinner time and the place is barely alive. I doubt she makes enough tips to cover where she lives.
“So you see why I can’t let you steal them.” She eyes me, a steeliness in her green eyes that I can’t argue with.
“I see why you feel that way.”
“That’s a non-answer if I ever heard one,” she scoffs, grabbing a tissue out of her purse to clean up the mascara under her eyes as she sniffles.
