Page 62 of Broken Pact

“C’mon, now. You don’t think Boss doesn’t have connections, do ya? Plus, he told ya we’d be comin’ by if you didn’t pay on time,” Ernie says.

My back hits my front door, my hands balling into fists at my sides. It’s hard to figure out what the best course of action is here. Should I scream for help? Call the cops? Run?

I wet my lips, buying myself another second. I send up every kind of plea and prayer, seeking guidance from Nana Jo on what to do. There’s a simmering level of rage inside me, just begging to be let out. This whole situation reeks of the same bullshit toxic masculinity that I was just lamenting about.

“He said I had two weeks. It’s only been a little over one.” I grapple for something, anything to get me away from this situation.

They stop in front of me now, an arm’s length away, effectively blocking me from the street. My gaze flies over Ernie’s shoulder to Mrs. Ventura’s window, praying she’s fucking watching and calling the cops. My apartment is in Rosewood, so these assholes don’t have the same kind of pull here. Not like they do if they go one block over—across city lines—and into Avalon Falls.

I hold onto that thought like a life raft, letting it drag me through the next few moments of uncertainty and fear. I refuse to let my brain list all the reasons that’s a terrible assumption.

“See, the thing is, boss thought you were throwin’ him a little bit o’ disrespect. And he doesn’t take kindly to that, ya know? So he sent us to collect now,” Ernie drawls.

I press my shoulder blades flat against the wood paneling of the door and tilt my chin up. “I don’t have it on me. It’s at the bank. I can’t get it until tomorrow.”

I mean, technically, it’s not a lie. I do have money in the bank, but I wasn’t planning on paying him early. I hadn’t if I was going to try to get the authorities involved. And I’m still waiting on the lawyer I contacted to call me about the lease agreement.

But they don’t know any of that.

“See that’s gonna cost ya,” Chad speaks for the first time. He scratches his forehead with the blunt end of a knife.

Knife feels like such an insignificant word for the piece of metal he’s so casually using to drag against his hairline. It’s as long as my forearm with a half–inch thick blade. It looks like it came from the props of some kind of movie.

“Interest?” I ask, my gaze glued to the blade dragging down the side of his face. It makes the strangest prickling noise as it connects with his scraggly beard. It’s terrifying.

This whole fucking situation is terrifying. And somewhere underneath all that fear is a well of rage that’s bubbling and boiling. A volcano just waiting for the right time to erupt.

“Sure.” Chad chuckles. “You could call it that.”

I clear my throat. “Again. All my money is tied up inside the bank. Tell your boss he’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow.”

Ernie laughs. “Nah, no one tells Boss anything. We do what he tells us.” He leaves the words hanging like little bombs hovering in the air between us.

I brace, shut my emotions off, and center myself for whatever he’s going to say next. Because whatever it is, it’s going to be fucking terrible. I know it as well as I know my own name.

“And what did he tell you?” I ask. I want to high five myself for how calm I’m being.

“He told us to send a message, yeah?” Ernie says.

“But left the delivery and the message up to us,” Chad says.

“Which means,” Ernie says, taking a step toward me. The toes of his black sneakers brush against mine. “We get to decide what kind of message. And you know what, girlie? I think you need some tough love. What do you think, Chad?”

I roll my shoulders back and stand to my full five-five height. My gaze narrows on these two, brimming with determination and rage. “Get the fuck out of here, both of you. Or you’re going to regret it.”

“You’re going to regret it,” Chat mocks, dragging the flat of the knife along his tongue. “I don’t think so, girlie.”

“You’re fucking crazy. Both of you, and?—”

Chad charges forward. “Don’t call me crazy.” He exhales and flicks his hair back with an exhale. “Now just play nice, girlie, and maybe we’ll be gentle. Gentle just how mama taught us, right Ernie?”

Ernie nearly buckles over with laughter. The caustic sound snaps something inside of me.

“Fuck you and fuck your mama,” I seethe.

Ernie whistles and rocks back on his heels with a grin. “Ooh-ee. She’s got a mouth on her though.”

Chad’s face darkens into a mask of a monster. Or maybe this is who he really is and the other version of him is the mask he wears. “What did you say about my momma?”

---