Page 9 of Escaping Our Reality

What a dumbass. He’s watched too many movies. “I said I’m not police.”

“Well, if you’re looking to make a deal, this isn’t the way to do it. Whoever sent you here should’ve given you full instructions.You’ve only been doing half of it. Buying fried chicken ain’t the other half.”

Well, I guess he just confirmed my suspicion that the sweet tea has something to do with it. That must be the ‘half’ I’m getting right.

“She doesn’t know I’m here,” I say.

He smells his cigarette. “And who isshe?”

“My sister. Her name is Caroline. Carrie.”

His eyes grow wide as saucers. “No shit?” He vehemently shakes his head, “I don’t know anything about her going missing. The cops were here. I gave them the videotapes of the store. I answered all of their questions.”

“Yes, but did they ask the right questions?”

That comment strikes him as funny and his cackle fills the distance between us. “You’re kind of a bitch. You know that?”

“So, I’ve been told.” It’s true. I’ve been told that more than once.

He grunts, flipping the cigarette back and forth between his fingers. “Everyone calls me Trash.”

I roll my shoulders back, “Ella.”

“So why are you really here, Ella?” His tongue flicks out to lick his cigarette.

He’s not even lit the damn thing, and he’s treating it like a long-lost lover.

“I know my sister was using. And I know my sister was selling. It all leads back here. I’m not trying to get anyone into any trouble. I’m just trying to find out what happened to Carrie. Does someone know where she is?”

He studies my face for sincerity, and for the first time, I notice that his pupils are small and constricted. “Well, I don’t know where she is.”

“What about your friends? Business associates? Would they know where she is?”

“Business associates?” He laughs. “I’m not pushing Mary Kay, sweetheart.”

I wanna punch him.

When I don’t say anything else, he sighs dramatically. “Look, I’m late for a party. If you promise not to cause any problems, you can come. Ask around. Just be careful what you say. Don’t act like a rat. That shit will get you in trouble.” He swings his skinny body from the booth and pushes the door open. “You coming?”

Mouse meet trap.

I hope the measly piece of cheese is worth it.

Chapter 6

CRUTCH

She’s rich.

How do I know?

You can just tell.

Her leather knee-high boots for one. The soles are flat. The girls around here wear stripper heels, even on their boots. Her leggings look like cream-colored pants and not ripped jeans. Even her hair looks expensive. Like maple syrup, golden brown mixed with shiny light colors.

She didn’t see me when she came outside. I’m sitting in the shadows of the back porch with only the light from my laptop screen shining on my face. Standing at the deck railing, she looks out at what should be a patch of trees and forest. But it’s nothing but stumps. Trash had the trees cut down a few months ago for more drug money. Apparently, his habit has now surpassed his legal—and illegal—income.

Sighing deeply, her shoulders relax, and she slumps forward. Leaning far over the railing, she pours the liquid from her beer bottle, emptying it on the ground.

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