Page 2 of Locke

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You don’t grow up in Blackwater without hearing about Max Locke.

He was an enigma.

A cautionary tale.

A being that was more monster than man.

And while he owned almost everything in Blackwater, he was never around, and that was fine by me. I didn’t care. Not the way my friends did. He was a grown ass man, and we were poor college girls that hoarded free condiments from A&W.

“We need more pepper,” I told Sylvia as I did a quick inventory before we left our stamp sized apartment.

“You have so much pepper,” Sylvia argued, grabbing a handful of the tiny packets on the top shelf of the pantry.

“We have no minced meat for pasta this week,” I stressed. “So, we need to go heavy on the pepper.”

“I think they’ve hidden it away now,” she teased, throwing off her house shirt. “They’re probably warning their co-workers about the girl that keeps asking for free water, but then takes handfuls of salt and pepper when they’re not looking—”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “What do they care?”

Throwing on a tight white top, she replied, “Maybe they’re passionate about their jobs.”

“They don’t get paid enough to be passionate about their jobs. None of us do.”

“You’re presuming.”

I quirked a brow as I grabbed a half-dead banana on the counter and peeled it. “Are you telling me you care about the people you serve at that coffee shop you work at?”

She strode to me, adjusting her tiny skirt so that it was just below her ass. I glimpsed her over quickly, at her impeccable blonde hair tied back in a pretty updo. Her make-up was flawless, her top teasing the curve of her huge breasts. Sylvia was opposite of me in every way. She was glamourous and soft, confident and unmarred by trauma. In another life, I might have been similar to her.

We’d only been roommates the last six months, but we’d known each other years. Not the greatest friends, but not the worst either. We clicked because she pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I grounded her when she was tempted to go off the rails and catch theft charges. Not that I was a goody-two-shoes or anything. When push came to shove, I didn’t mind throwing down, but I preferred having a tiny circle of friends around me at all times, and never anybody so close that they knew who I really was.

Nobody would be my friend without thinking how tragic I was.

And Sylvia, we’d been buddies since high school, but she didn’t know the real me, either.

She ripped the banana out of my hands before I could eat it and pointed the tip of it at me, grinning. “I’m saying that you’re a pretty little thief, and that we need you stealing other things besides salt and pepper.”

I feigned dismay. “I’m an up-and-coming delinquent. Take it easy on me.”

She rolled her eyes. “How far away are you from being ready?”

I stretched my arms out, showcasing my tights and thin sweater. “Ready now.”

Sylvia’s eyes ran over me, a look of disapproval coming over her. “Uh, no.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You’re dressed like you’re going to a book club.”

“So?”

“So, you’re going to a real club.”

“I’m offended you think a book club is anything less than.”

“And I’m offended that you think you can be my wingman looking like a sad librarian. I mean, come on, is that a stain on your collar?”

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