Page 69 of Resolutions

A man sitting alone sips his coffee while reading his phone. He glances at me as I reach over and throw my coffee cup away. I can't let Michael see me with it, that would ruin everything, but I couldn't help myself. I desperately needed the caffeine. My fingers unconsciously trace the outline of one of the threetracking devices Law insisted I wear. “Better paranoid and prepared than dead,” he'd said while placing them. Given those choices, I'd have to agree.

“Everyone's in position.” Law's steady voice is in my ear. “Stay calm, Melanie. You're safe. I promise, we've done these lots of times.” I eye Farris, who nods along as if enjoying a song, his relaxed posture betraying nothing of the tension and anticipation thrumming through all of us.

Earlier this morning, Farris and I sat in a parking lot outside a grocery store in the next town. From there, I'd made the call that set the trap:

“Michael. It's me.” My voice is barely above a whisper

“Aww, if it isn't my little escaped bunny?” The sound of his voice makes bile rise in my throat. “Aren't you a crafty one? To what do I owe this unexpected surprise?”

I fucking hate him. I hate his voice. I hate that he's hurt people. I hate him for what he's done. And I hate that fucking nickname.

Michael chuckled, “it seems my little bunny’s forgotten how to talk.” Michael chuckled.

“I... I need money.” The thought of needing anything from this monster makes me want to scream. Instead, I bite my lip. Farris puts his hand on my arm, nodding for me to continue.

Slimy bastard.

“Oh?” Amusement colors his voice. “Figured out it's hard being on your own, did you?” I hear him set the phone down and put me on speaker. “What about your job?”

“Lost it. I can't work without dedicated internet.” I force vulnerability into my tone. “But you must have known that.”

I have internet, you pompous ass.

“Aww, you weren't built for being on the run, were you?” He practically purrs.

Condescending prick. “I underestimated the costs. I'm broke.” I draw out the last word, letting desperation seep through.

“I'm very angry with you.”

Yeah, I don't like you either. I heave a dramatic sigh. “I thought I could make it on my own.”

And I damn well can, you piece of shit.

“I told you to answer the phone. Instead, you threw it away.”

“Yes, I did. You should have known I would do that. Now, please, I just need money. I'm starving. I haven't eaten in days.” I inject irritation into my voice, the kind that comes from swallowed pride.

“And how do you propose I get it to you?”

“I don't know, maybe leave it somewhere and I can pick it up?”

His laugh is exactly what I expected. “Oh, silly, silly bunny.”

Farris rolls his eyes as he grips my hand.

“I just—”

“If you want my help, you'll do it my way. Now beg.”

“What?” The word escapes before I can stop it.

“You heard me. Beg for it.” His voice drops lower, hungrier. “Make me hard.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to play his game. “Please Michael, will you help me?”

“More!” He snaps.

“Please Michael, I was stupid thinking I could make it alone. I failed. I need your help. Please.”

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