Page 73 of Brazen Criminals

I spend the rest of the hour moving boxes of milk in the fridge and jugs of syrup around the storage room, glad I don’t have to interact with customers right now.

When I come out at the end of my shift, Carrie hands me the tip jar, a rumpled twenty tucked under a pile of change that definitely wasn’t there when I went into the back. I’m about to say something, but Carrie hands me a paper bag for the money and a cinnamon roll in a box. “Your ride is here,” she says, practically shoving me out from behind the counter.

I dump the change into the bag, not taking the time to open the till and turn the coins into actual money as a familiar hand slips onto the small of my back, Walker reaching around me to pick up the cinnamon roll.

“Hello,” I say, turning toward Walker.

“Hey.” The sparkle is back in his dark eyes. He was so down yesterday, but today he’s his usual glittery self.

“You drew the short straw?” I ask as we leave, both of us looking up and down the street, just in case.

He tugs me against his side, his lips pressing into my hair. “You’re never the short straw, Clara. I was closest. I just finished up having some real fun for once.”

We hop into his truck, buckling up before he pulls into the sparse traffic. “What kind of fun?” I ask.

“You are looking at the smiling snake. I love being the smiling snake,” he says, his eyes bright.

“You know I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He laughs. “Of course.” He turns away from our house, and before I can ask where we’re going, he asks, “Grocery shopping?”

I look into my bag of change and the twenty. I pull the twenty out and put it in my wallet. “Sure,” I say, wondering what I can get for less than $10 in change that will last the week. “So, snake?”

Walker is practically vibrating with energy as he takes another turn. “You know we’re blackmailing that one guy, right?”

I feel sick thinking about it. This is all so easy for them, so natural. Don’t they get that I’m normal?

I take a breath and pretend I don’t feel ill. “Yeah?” I say.

“So one of us had to do the actual blackmailing. And here’s the thing. We want to scare him, but not so much that he’ll go to the police. We also have to make sure that he knows we’re serious.” Walker reaches over and squeezes my thigh, but his hand doesn’t linger. “Anyway, Trips can’t do it because he’s terrifying. Jansen giggles when forced to be serious. RJ really doesn’t like talking to new people. That leaves me.”

“That makes sense,” I say, not really knowing what this all has to do with snakes.

“So I go, and I’m super nice and friendly, smiling the whole time while I lay out how exactly we’re going to ruin this guy’s life, how we’ll tell his parents about his kinks, his pastor, his girlfriend who is ‘saving herself’ for marriage. I lay this all out, sweet as can be. And he is sweating, shaking, it’s great. Then, when he’s all like ‘What do I do? Why are you doing this to me?’ I tell him I won’t turn him in if he cuts all ties with Bryce.”

Walker laughs, a musical accompaniment to a terrible act. “He was so grateful that was all I wanted that he cried. Turns out he never really liked Bryce much anyway, so it was a win-win all around.” He grins at me, and I shiver, realizing how calmly he just threatened to ruin a guy’s life, a guy whose only mistake was being friends with my ex.

I force a smile on my face. It’s easy to forget what these guys are, what they do, the choices they’ve made. “I’m glad it went so well,” I force out.

We make it to the grocery store, and I rush in to grab a basket. “Let’s get our stuff and meet at the front,” I suggest.

Walker’s brows scrunch up, but he nods, grabbing his own basket.

Once I’m sure Walker is out of sight, I find a quiet corner to process. Walker threatened a guy. He was so scary he made the dude cry. But he did it to keep me safe, to isolate Bryce, and as it turns out, the guy didn’t even like Bryce. The dude wasn’t hurt, his secret is safe, and Bryce has lost another friend. Am I okay with this?

I think I might be.

With that uncomfortable realization, I count out my change. It’s a little more than $11, so that’s nice. I’m saving the twenty for rent. I only need twenty more by Tuesday to pay Trips. I don’t know where I’m getting that twenty in the next day and a half, but I also need to eat, so there we go.

A bunch of bananas, some carrots, and a bag of dried beans all go in the basket. I have rice back at the house, so I skip that. Last is a half a dozen eggs, and I know that’s it. I stare at the yogurt, but there’s no way I can afford it. I’m ready to buy my pathetic rations, but Walker comes around the corner, stopping in front of the dairy section. “Are they out of your favorites?” he asks, motioning at the yogurt.

“Nah, this is good,” I say, hoisting up my basket.

Walker glances in the basket, then gently touches my arm. “Clara, you need to eat.”

I roll my eyes. “I love to eat, Walker. No worries.”

I walk past him, but he runs his hand up my arm, grasping my good shoulder, pausing my dash for the registers. “Unless you have food stashed in your room, this isn’t going to cut it.”

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