Page 115 of Sinners' Appetite
“Shut the fuck up…” I laugh.
“You two are just too cute.”
I shake my head, focusing on Paul’s car. I’m not sure why he hasn’t taken off yet. I can’t see through the car windows but I have a feeling that he’s on the phone or something.
Finally, after a good five minutes, he starts the engine and backs up. I do the same and quickly pull out of the parking lot, staying close behind him. A few blocks later, he turns onto another street and pulls into a driveway.
I keep driving, hoping to find somewhere to park so we can get this over and done with. Once I do, we hop out of the car and walk back towards his house.
“These houses are fucking fancy…” Jeremy chuckles as we walk by several top of the line, almost identical houses.
“Why would people want to live this close to one another? There’s nothing more than a foot between them.”
As we approach Paul’s front yard, we notice something alarming. Every single window has thick bars on the outside.
“How the fuck are we going to get in there?” Jeremy asks.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. We’ll figure it out somehow.”
I’ll admit, it’s risky. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.For her.
“Let’s go back to the motel for a while. We’ll come back later tonight,” I say, hoping that he’ll still be here when we decide to return.
“You’ll need these.” I hand Jeremy two sets of latex gloves.
“Gross, I hate the feeling of those. I used to wear them when I worked in produce.”
I can’t hold back my laughter. “You worked in produce?”
“Yes, Mr. Hotshot. I worked in fucking produce.”
“Were your melons juicy, Jeremy?”
“Fuck off. It was a while ago. You’re a dick.”
“What other jobs have you had?”
He smirks and rolls his eyes at me. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Tell me…” I insist, handing him a black ski mask.
“Really? Do I have to wear this?”
“Yes…you do.” I grin, tucking my own into my back pocket.
“Okay, so, I worked at a coffee shop once…” he admits.
“You were a barista?”
“Kinda. I made the pastries, actually.”
“Hot.”
Again, he rolls his eyes and shoves the mask and gloves into the front of his jeans. I grab a few more supplies and when we’re ready, we head in the direction of Paul’s house. Low and behold, when we get there, his car is still parked in front of his house and all but one light is off as far as we can tell.
“What’s the plan?” Jeremy asks me, sliding his gloves on before pulling the mask out.
“That all depends.”
