Page 82 of Lucky Shot
There’s a pause before he says, “Why do you need to hire a hitman?”
“Someone hurt my brother and I’m feeling very ragey about it.”
“Hurt him?” Pretty asks.
I nod, though he can’t see it. “Yes. In all the ways a person can. All the bad ways. I want to throw him in front of a fucking train, Pretty.”
There’s another pause. “I know a guy.”
For the second time today, I blink at words. Did he just say…?
“What?”
Pretty laughs. “I know a guy, but that’s all I’m saying. Give me his name.”
“I just…” There’s a moment of hesitation where this feels all too real.Tooreal. Like I’m in a movie. Do people really hire hitmen? Is that something I’m serious about?
I imagine Roux scared. Hit. I remember when he had a broken rib and I know he hasn’t told me even the tip of the iceberg.
I also imagine that Roux isn’t the only one this guy’s hurt. And he won’t be the last.
“Trevor McAllister. He attends Marley Coast University in Southern California.”
“Okay. I’ll let my friend know.”
“What will he do?” I ask.
“I don’t ask these things,” Pretty says. His voice is hushed. His laughter is just as quiet. I always match his tone.
“Pretty?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you feel about us planning a video call? Maybe next week?”
I hear his inhale. “Really?” he whispers.
My eyes close and a smile settles on my lips. “Yes. It’s almost July. We’ve been talking for five weeks. Are you ready for that?”
“Yes!” His voice is still hushed, but I can hear his enthusiasm. But also his caution. “Are you sure? I… Really?”
I smile. “Yes, really. I’m ready to see you.”
“Me too,” Pretty says. “I’m so ready.”
“Then we just carry on for now. Exactly how we are. But next… uh…” I think about my schedule for a minute. “Next Thursday? Does that work for you?”
“Yes. I have a trip a few days after that, so it’s perfect.”
So do I. Nodding, I say, “Okay. How about late afternoon? Three or four your time? Does that interfere with work?”
“Nah. That’s good timing.” Pause. “We’re really doing this?”
“If that’s okay. I don’t want to push you.”
“You’re not. I can’t wait to see your face.”
I chuckle. “Me too, Pretty Boy.”
