Page 33 of His Big Bad Stick

It turned her on a long time ago, but she knew to stay away.

Her memory serves her though… the reminder that sometimes violence can be harnessed for something good.

I nod. “Who do I have to kill, Abrielle?”

She exhales loudly with a mix of a scoff and a laugh.

If she thinks I’m joking… I’m not.

After way too many seconds of collected silence, I tell Abrielle to sit back down and drink up.

Jared arrives not too much after that.

He’s a nerdy trainer whose father is a famous neuro doctor.

They probably have more money than I do.

Jared loves his job. Loves hockey.

And he’s not that bad of a guy.

I called him on a whim once when I got into a bar fight.

Two guys jumped me and one slammed a glass off my face and cut me.

Jared stitched me up.

And now…

“It’s not me, it’s a friend,” I say.

Friend. Is that what Abrielle is? All these years later? A friend…

Jared takes one look at Abrielle and looks ready to bolt.

He starts to shake his head.

I cut him off, almost crashing into him.

“I can’t get the story out of her,” I whisper to him. “We go way back, okay? We haven’t seen each other in years. If she’s here asking me for help, she’s in big trouble.”

“This feels really risky,” Jared says.

“I’m not going to say a thing,” Abrielle says. “I’m desperate. Okay? And if you both need the truth so badly, I stupidly wasn’t paying attention and walked into a project of mine. I had a very sharp knife on the edge of a table and it got my arm.”

She knows both Jared and I think she’s full of shit.

I wonder how many times she’s practiced that story. Or how many times she’s told it.

“Listen, this has nothing to do with him,” Abrielle says to Jared about me. “I swear on my life. He offered to take me to the hospital. I refused. I can’t go to the hospital. Okay? I just… can’t…”

Jared sighs. “Let me see your arm.”

Abrielle unrolls the shirt I gave her.

“Damn,” Jared says. “That needs at least four stitches. It’s a super clean cut. Deep though.”

“Want to go through my drawers and compare knives?” I ask. “Can’t fucking believe this.”

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