Page 71 of Broken Discipline
“You say that like you know from experience.”
“Get your shit together and stop stealing from my girls,” Bunny growled.
“Come on, Bunny Babe. It’s just the green for me now, anyway,” the customer said. He tipped back on his barstool, dangerously close to falling on his back. “A little weed never hurt anyone.”
Blister shook his head. “I wish you had just been selling weed.”
My stomach dropped, my insides twisting into knots. Sometimes, I thought Bunny was just jaded, but what if she was right? What if someone had stolen it?
What ifBlisterhad stolen his own product to get the most money out of me?
“Get me my cut,” Blister said, running his fingers through his long, glossy hair. “For every additional day, it’s a ten percent compounding interest.”
I wasn’t good at math, but I knew those numbers would not work in my favor. I looked down at my sneakers, then back up at Blister.
“Isn’t there something else I can do?” I asked.
He clicked his teeth, then winked at me. “You can always pay me back the fun way.”
My stomach lurched. Bunny had joked once that Blister probably straightened his pubes like his hair. I always imagined an Afghan Hound dog with a penis for a head. I smacked a hand against my mouth to stop myself from vomiting.
“You think you’re too good for me?” Blister muttered.
Once I knew I wasn’t going to throw up, I shook my head. “It’s not that,” I said, swearing up and down. “I’ve been sick lately.”
Blister blinked his eyes like he didn’t believe me. But then he nodded.
“So that’s what this is. You’re paying for your kid’s future. I can respect that,” he said. My stomach sank. I didn’t want him to find out about the twins, but I knew he would eventually. “Usually, when one of my people does something like this, I take it in the form of blood.” He looked behind him at the two men waiting in one of the booths, one short and the other with long hair, like Blister. “But I’m not a monster, Kylie. Lucky for you, I don’t hit women.” He eyed my stomach and I quickly covered myself, trying to protect the fetuses from his gaze. “You better hope that’s not a boy.” He stood up, signaling to the two men, and they got up, ready to follow him out. “You’re a good girl, Kylie. You wouldn’t steal from me. Get my money back and we’ll call it even.”
As soon as the bar door closed behind him, I ran to the bathroom, throwing open the first stall. I barely made it to the toilet. Each lurch of my body wrecked me, tears burning my eyes, my stomach hard as a rock. Morning sickness was supposed to be over in the second trimester, but it wasn’t for me.
The room spun as I pushed myself back to the sinks and the mirror. Dark rings circled my eyes. I wasn’t showing yet, but soon, I wouldn’t be able to hide it. Bunny said I could keep working if I wanted, and that she’d let me stay rent free, but I couldn’t do that. I refused to owe anyone anything, even her. And besides, there was no way all four of us could live above the bar. I had to figure something else out.
I had only agreed to sell meth to give my kids a good life. A better life than I had.
I slumped back over to the bar, wobbling from side to side, trying not to puke again. A new customer sat at the corner of the bar near the waitress station. Stiff and formal. Slicked back white hair. A slight stomach hanging over the edge of his belt. The weirdest part was his full suit.In a dive bar.The only time customers wore suits was when someone died, but this man looked like he belonged in the rich city nearby, Northside, or maybe even farther away, in Fairview, where the true one-percenters lived. His gold cufflinks matched his watch, and I knew, just by looking at it, that it was worth more than my car.
He wasn’t the kind of person who stopped for a drink, or even gas, in a town like Oakmont. He was here for a reason, and that unnerved me.
Was he looking for Blister?
As I inched forward, the man turned toward me and smiled. I held my stomach.
“Miss Kylie Lowell,” he said. “Are you available for a quick discussion?”
I wrinkled my brows. How did he know my name? I glanced at Bunny to see if she knew anything, but she nodded eagerly, encouraging me to keep talking to him. In her eyes, he was a big wallet.
I didn’t see the point in saying ‘no,’ so I leaned on the bar next to him, steadying myself.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I go by Upchurch.” He held out his hand; it was thick and clammy as if he wasn’t used to sitting in a crowded bar. “I’m a board member of the Marked Blooms Syndicate. Have you heard of us?”
The name sounded familiar, like a lunch club from high school, but I knew it wasn’t that.
“I don’t get out much,” I said.
“We understand that you’re having some financial difficulties, given your,” he gestured at my stomach, “current state.”
