Page 24 of Hitch
But when I pull up the gravel driveway, Braden’s on the porch, scowling like he always does lately. Back in Florida, he was loyal, and was actually the first to jump up when I said I needed help forging my father’s will. But since I had to kill his crush for blabbing her big mouth, he’s been uptight about the whole thing. Braden could barely talk to her, let alonefuck her,but he got all self-righteous about the whole thing. Something about how this was getting out of hand.
That was six months ago, and he’s been a different man ever since. Still, I respect Braden. He was always with me back in Florida. Why not give him the benefit of the doubt? Besides, he’s in too deep with me to think he could come out of it with clean hands.
I slam the truck door and Braden’s eyes flick to the gloves I’m carrying, stained with dried blood. He mutters under his breath, and I lift my chin, daring him to voice his complaints loud and clear.
He doesn’t hesitate.
“You murdered him too?” he asks. “Not everyone has to die.”
I cock my head to the side. “Then what do you suggest?”
“You figure out what they’re saying and discredit the source. You makehimseem like the idiot.”
“Sounds like some peace-loving bullshit.”
Braden snorts, and Todd rounds the corner of the house, then leans on the exterior beside Braden.
“Cops would’ve come to the farm if any word got out,” Todd says to Braden. “Duane did the right thing.”
Braden spins around to face him. “If we keep killing everyone who comes here, the copswillshow up.”
The two of them argue for a bit, but I finger that napkin note in my pocket. Braden found the blackmail note this time and gave it to me, and the more I think about it, the more interesting it gets. After all, Braden and Reggie arrived at the farmtogetherthe other day. What’s to say that they aren’t working together to take my business out from under me?
I studied Reggie long before I made my presence known at the Double Take. She used to draft inspirational quotes on those cocktail napkins before she posted them with her selfies on social media. She always perfected her online image, as if she was pure power and grace. It always amused me, mostly because I knew that all it would take was showing my face again, and that strong composure of hers would dissolve into a blubbering mess of wetness and panic.
Cocky little thing thinks it’s funny to blackmail me on one of those same napkins. I ought to kill her right now, seeing as she’s a devil in disguise and things will only get worse for me. I ought to show Braden that I’m not fucking around. I’ll kill her too. I’ll even kill him.
But it’s just a hunch, and Braden wouldn’t disrespect me like that. But I can’t say the same things about my girl. How far will Reggie take it? How much is she willing to risk?
I yank the napkin out of my pocket and hold it up in their direction, more so at Todd than at Braden. Braden’s already seen it.
“What do you think about this?” I ask. Todd squints at the smashed handwriting. Again, it’s all capitals. Can’t tell shit about who wrote it. I even compared the note to the photocopy of Reggie’s Double Take application the other day, sitting in my office like an amateur detective. Some of the curves seem similar, but it’s hard to tell. Handwriting is not my expertise.
“The hell does it even say?” Todd asks, tilting his head.
Braden snatches it from him. “I know where you buried them,” he reads aloud. “Sell before I tell.” He rakes his fingers through his tomato-red hair. “Jesus christ. What are we going to do about this blackmail?”
“Not ‘we.’Me,” I clarify, quite aware that the note is referencing my murders.
Braden scowls at me, like he’s annoyed that I’d even bring that up.
“We never should’ve done this in the first fucking place,” he says.
I study Braden with building irritation. He was fine with moving to California and helping me get the cornfields up and running, and he was the one who put me in contact with Todd in the first place. Braden even offered to perfect our mushroom labs, and eventually became my spore house manager. It was only when I killed his crush for being a rat that he started acting like a resistant motherfucker.
“Are you playing a trick on me?” I ask, stepping closer to him, the edge of my boots on the bottom stair of the porch.
“Why in the hell would I do that?” Braden asks.
“Maybe you got some need for revenge. Maybe you’re still hurt over that pair of ass and tits.”
He sneers. “Watch your mouth.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Todd chuckles as Braden scoffs at him.
“Think about this for a second, Duane. If you go down, it’s only a matter of time before they come after me too. Fuck, even Todd is in this now! If you’re not careful, we’reallgoing to be arrested.” Braden smashes his fist into the side of the house. “Jesus!”
