Page 9 of Hellraiser

My eyes met his concerned gaze, and I shrugged while forcing a smile. “Just work stuff. My boss wasn’t happy about me calling out last night. And if I don’t meet my new deadline for this article, I’ll be out of another job indefinitely.”

His brow furrowed. “How much time you got?”

I let out an exasperated sigh as I glanced back at the screen. “Not enough for the situation I’m in—just a week. If I don’t make it, I’ll be front row center in the unemployment line.”

His brooding expression softened.

“Yo, you hungry? Let’s go grab something to eat,” he suggested as he put on his boots. “Maybe it’ll get your mind off it, at least for a little while.”

I nodded, appreciative of the distraction. “Yeah, sure. That sounds good. Just let me freshen up.”

About half an hour later, Dre led me outside to his sleek, black pickup truck. Relief washed over me. The exhilarating ride on the back of his motorcycle was terrifying, and I welcomed the change and the ability to blend in with everyday drivers. We climbed into the truck, and Dre started the engine.

As we drove, the engine’s hum and the scenery passing by created a soothing backdrop. I glanced over at Dre; the glow of the afternoon sunlight illuminated his focused, melanated expression. He seemed so different when he wasn’t trying to play the tough guy role—almost like a big teddy bear.

We approached the fast-food drive-through, and the familiar red neon sign came into view. He pulled up to the speaker and rolled down the window. Soon after, we were greeted by a cheerful voice.

“Welcome to Burger Palace. What can I get you today?”

He glanced over at me, arching a questioning brow. “You know whatchu want?”

I paused for a moment. “A cheeseburger and fries is fine. Oh, and a chocolate shake.”

He nodded and turned back to the speaker. “Let me get a cheeseburger, seasoned fries, and a chocolate shake. And I’ll also take a double bacon burger, large seasoned fries, and an orange soda.”

After the drive-through attendant confirmed our order, Dre pulled forward to the window. As we waited, I felt a sense of normalcy warming my bones. The simplicity of the moment—relishing in the greasy comfort of cheeseburgers and seasoned fries—grounded me.

Our food arrived, and Dre handed me my shake and the greasy bag. I took a sip, savoring the sweet taste of the chocolate shake. We sat in his black pickup truck, parked in a quiet spot nearby, and started to enjoy our meals. I took a bite of my cheeseburger, thankful for the warm food, deliciously sweet shake, and his company. The trio provided a comforting change to all the danger we’d recently encountered.

We ate in comfortable silence until I was licking the salt off my fingertips, not realizing how hungry I was. As I sat there,letting my food digest, I relaxed. I wasn’t ready to head back to the clubhouse.

“I think I want ice cream,” I blurted out. “Can we grab some? I’m not ready to go back just yet.”

“It’ll start getting dark soon, Mercy. We really should be getting back.”

“Just a little while longer, please?”

Dre nodded, finishing his burger. “Sure. I know a place.”

He drove us to an ice cream shop in a secluded spot about an hour out of the city—a small park where the stars were visible through all the light pollution. Dre hopped out and laid out a blanket in the bed of his truck. I joined him.

“This place is beautiful. How’d you find it?”

“It’s my hideaway. A place I come to whenever I need to think. I don’t share it with anybody, but you looked like you needed to clear your head.”

I smirked, appreciating the gesture. “You’re damn right about that. Life is kicking my ass right now.”

“What made you want to be a journalist anyway?” he probed.

I didn’t know why his question surprised me.

“I’ve always loved telling real stories. But more than that, give a voice to the voiceless.”

“Sounds personal.”

“It kind of is.”

Dre nodded with a look of respect in his eyes.

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