Page 15 of Grit & Glamour

“Scarlett hired me to fix a problem. I’m sure you already figured that out though, or you wouldn’t still be holding onto the knife after it was established that I didn’t leave the mark on her face.” One steps towards Theo, the knife in question not much of a deterrent.

“And I’m sure I’m not her problem, so what are you doing here?” Theo asks in a confident tone. However, when One takes another step closer, his body jerks as if he started to take a step back, but he catches himself.

“Who did you tell about the laptop—about Scarlett’s plan?” One asks in an icy tone.

“Nobody. Why would I grass on my friend for no reason? I wouldn’t.” He turns to me. “Scar, I didn’t tell anyone, anything. You believe me, right?”

“Of course,” I answer without hesitation. “But it’s him that needs convincing.”

“Why—what happened? I don’t understand why you’d ever even have to meet this guy in person?” Theo asks, sounding more confused the longer he thinks about it.

“She’s still alive. They were set up. They think you did it—probably for money,” I explain, hoping to speed things along by doing so. The sooner One sees how clueless Theo is about all this, the sooner I can get my brother and bail on this shit-show of a life and start a new one somewhere else. Somewhere she’ll never find us.

“I would never betray Scarlett like that,” Theo snarls at One, sounding insulted.

“Why should I believe that?” One asks, the question sounding oddly genuine.

“What would I have to gain from it? Look around you, man. Does it look like I need the money? Am I that desperate for the cash I’d betray one of the very few people in the world I trust?” Theo shoots back, affronted.

One looks between the two of us and curses. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong now?” Theo complains, making a semi-threatening gesture with his knife in One’s direction.

“He believes you, but he doesn’t want to,” I answer before One can. He gives me an icy look that only confirms my theory.

“He could still be lying. He might be an even better liar than you are, Princess,” he responds in snarky tone.

“Well, can you decide whether I’m lying or not without me present? I’ve got work to do,” Theo announces.

“You’re not going anywhere. Have someone else handle it. A place like this, I’m sure you have plenty of people capable of handling your shit for you.”

“This customer is extra special, I need to do it personally.”

“Not going to happen.” One crosses his arms across his chest and looks down at Theo like he’s a misbehaving child.

“If I don’t bring this shit over to BM’s personally by two o’clock, he’ll have me shot. He’s the kind of man that’s easily insulted, if you know what I mean. So I don’t give a flying fuck what you say is going to happen, I’m putting on a shirt, and then I’m leaving.” As if to make his point, he turns away from One and takes a few steps.

“You can’t drive with your arm like that even if you want to,” One comments offhandedly, and Theo pauses and slams the knife down onto a side table he was passing.

“I got another hand left. I’ll survive,” Theo mutters, stalking off back to the door he’d originally come out of.

“He sounded serious about the guy shooting him,” I point out, turning to face One.

“That’s hardly my problem,” One deflects, stepping towards the window and looking out of it at the city sprawled out around us.

“It is if you’re still insisting Theo knows something,” I retort.

“If we took him back with us, this ‘BM’ person would never find him. Nobody will ever find him again if that’s what I want.” He pulls out his phone and responds to a text message, before locking the screen again. He keeps the old, clunky-looking phone in his hand though, as if he’s expecting a quick response.

“What if we go with him? He can’t drive anyway, like you said. We go, I’ll drive, he sells the drugs, we leave, and then you can take longer to decide whether he’s innocent or not if that’s really what you need to do,” I offer, widening my eyes and looking at him imploringly.

Above puppy eyes and pouting, I am not. Though I am sceptical of its general effectiveness against an assassin. Though, thus far, sarcasm and snappiness hadn’t gotten me far. Perhaps it is time to try another approach, sugar rather than vinegar. I could be sweet. Maybe... “Please. He’s not to blame, One. I know you’re smart enough to already realise that, but if you need more time to be certain, take it. Just don’t let an innocent guy get shot up by some asshole with a dumb name like BM because of it.”

He smirks, and then presses his lips together, as if smothering the smile. Like it escaped without permission and he’d quenched it the second he’d realised. I grin. Victory tastes sweet.

“I have strong doubts that your drug dealing friend is an innocent man, but I’ll roll with it. A dead man can’t talk, and besides, holding three of you in the safe house would be a pain,” One agrees finally.

“Roll with what?” Theo asks.

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