Page 18 of A Little Naughty

I’ll case the location and decide how close I can get to the dirt without getting any on me.

If I don’t help him, he’ll find somebody stupider to do it. Somebody who’ll blow that money on alcohol or drugs or women. I’ll at least do something useful with it.

My jaw clenches, and I know the bad decision I’m about to make.

My phone lights up with a text, and I turn it over to read the screen.

Jemima

Are you available to talk to me this week? If you want to stop by the office, I could stay late or I could come to you?

It takes me a second to realize it’s a text from Jemima, and when I do, a flush of heat warms that chill right out of my chest. She’s a beam of sunlight in this dark place, although I don’t know why she’s interested in me.

I think about her coming here to talk to me with my dad and brother hanging around.Fuck that. Then I think about being at that office with her after everyone leaves, just the two of us, and my thumbs fly quickly over the screen as I reply.

What day can you stay late?

Gray dots float, and I wait for her answer. It doesn’t take too long.

Jemima

How about day after tomorrow? I can make sure Nikki is covered.

That’s right. She has a little girl now. I’m pretty sure it’s not her daughter, like some people in town are saying. She doesn’t act like a mother.

I slide my palms over the tattoos on my upper arms. The beer sits on the patio table at my knees. I’ve never been much of a role model, but I don’t think I’m bad for kids. I’m nothing like my brother.

Scrubbing my fingers over my chin, I push off my knees and scuff into the house. She wants to talk to me. That’s all.

Hesitating a moment, I text back.

See you then.

CHAPTER5

JEMIMA

Raif

See you then.

My stomach twists at the three small words on my phone, and I catch my breath at the thought of being alone with Raif Jones in the newspaper office after hours…

Talking about wild hogs.

I don’t know anything about pigs. I guess that’s why I’m interviewing him, but still, I should do some research before tomorrow.

My hair is twisted up on my head, and I’m standing in front of the stove browning ground turkey. The box of Hamburger Helper claims to be so easy—just brown ground beef, empty the box, and simmer.

It’s more than my own mother ever did for me, and I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I think it’s kind of fun in a what-the-hell-are-we-even-doing kind of way.

Nikki sits at the table playing jacks while she watchesSpongeBob SquarePantson my laptop. I think the jacks help her relax.

I stir the meat in the skillet, waiting for it to change colors. “I got ground turkey because it’s supposed to be healthier,” I say to her over my shoulder.

“All the hip young people are eating sa-lads,” she replies.

I snort a laugh, walking over to where she sits. “I can’t believe you’re watching SpongeBob. That show was popular whenIwas your age.”

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