Page 2 of Stealing His Cupcake
Washington’s throat bobs as he swallows. “My daughter was.” Piercing me with a glare so sharp it would have me pinned to the wall like a butterfly had it been physical, he pulls a photo out of his wallet.
Having done my homework, I don’t need to look at it to know who he’s talking about. Eleanor Washington, 21. Committed suicide last week. The police ruled out foul play. “What does Craig Denver have to do with her death?” As far as I could tell, he’s a professional football player with a clean rap sheet and a steady girlfriend.
Washington’s fists clench but he’s careful not to wrinkle the photo. It’s from Eleanor’s high school graduation. She’s grinning widely, the tassel from her cap tangled in her long, wavy hair. A beautiful girl who grew into a beautiful woman.
“What do you think?” Washington’s voice breaks. “He raped her. She wouldn’t let us go to the police. Worried it would be bad for my business.” Now there are tears in his eyes, and because I’m not an asshole, I feel a little guilty about poking at the fresh wound. “Is that a good enough reason for you?! Or do you need to know the details of what he did to my child that she thought she had to take her own life?”
“I accept the contract,” is the only thing I say before leaving the now sobbing Washington in the care of his bodyguard, who looks at me like I’m a heartless monster. It doesn’t bother me because it’s exactly the impression I want to give. For all I know, it might also be true. I’m not the most empathetic person around. Some hitmen never kill from a close distance because they can’t stand the targets begging for their lives, but it has never bothered me. Their days were numbered the moment someone put a price on their heads. If it’s not me, someone else would kill them. It’s fate. Like in the Final Destination, you’re gonna die no matter what you do. It might as well be me collecting the money for your early demise.
Craig Denver is dead already. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Chapter 2
Amy
Craig’sonedgetonight.He’s not angry or yelling at me, but I don’t like the sharp glint in his eyes when he looks at me. I try to shake the unease off. Everything is perfect tonight. I did everything the way he likes. There’s nothing for him to be angry about. Or is there?
Shivering, I run through my mental checklist. I made his favorite meal exactly the way he prefers it. I even managed to sauté the mushrooms just right. The expensive, right kind of mushrooms. I visited three grocery stores before finding one that had them in stock.
The food is good. He even said so, and his plate is nearly empty. He must like it.
His water sits untouched beside his plate, condensation fogging the glass. Is there something wrong with it? I got his favorite brand of beer too, but Craig never drinks before 8 p.m., so it’s for later.
“I love how you always try so hard for me, babe,” he says with a smile. There’s still that odd glint in his eyes but he’s smiling, so I let myself relax a little. “Really. Points for effort.”
He sets the cutlery down without finishing his portion, but that’s okay. His coach has them on a strict meal plan, since the season starts in a few months. I’m a little disappointed he barely touched the mushrooms, but perhaps I did sauté them wrong after all. I consider asking Craig but decide against it. He’s always annoyed when he has to explain my mistakes to me. I’m twenty-eight. I should know what I’ve done wrong without someone pointing it out to me. The problem is, sometimes it’s really difficult to know what exactly I did wrong when Craig is around. I’m grateful he’s so patient with me.
“Thank you. How was your week?” I ask, uneasy in the sudden silence. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” Craig’s too busy for silly messages and memes, but he always finds time to text me if it’s important or if he wants to meet.
Sometimes I wish he’d share more of his life with me but when I ask, he just calls me silly and says his problems are too big for my little head. It’s… I’d never say it out loud, but it’s kind of infuriating. Then again, I barely finished high school, so maybe I am too stupid to understand his life.
“Oh, has it really been that long?” His smile is more of a smirk now. “Did you miss me, babe? How cute. I know, I know. I should have stopped by sooner. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”
“No, you’re not! Of course not. You’re a great boyfriend, Craig,” I hurry to assure him. My best friend Kayla doesn’t share my conviction about Craig being amazing. She says he’s a manipulative asshole. But what does she know? Her own boyfriend cheated on her. She might have a fancy college degree, but she’s hardly a relationship expert. Craig loves me and that’s all that matters.
The odd glint in Craig’s eyes sharpens. “If I’m such a great boyfriend, how come I’m not enough for you, babe?”
“W-what?” I stutter, my thoughts racing. What is he talking about? “I don’t understand. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m happy we’re together.”
“I was here earlier,” Craig says, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. “Thought I’d surprise my silly little girlfriend. Instead, I found an empty apartment.”
“You came?” Despite the ice in his voice, a flicker of warmth spreads through my chest. He tried to surprise me! “That’s so sweet! I-I must have been at work.”
“I called your boss. Your shift at that ridiculous hipster cafe ended at 3. I was here at 5 and you weren’t home. Where were you, Amy?”
His glare is downright threatening now, causing me to shrink in my seat. “I-I—”
“Yes? I know you have at least a few functioning brain cells, so how about you use them and explain to me why I should bother with a whoring piece of shit like you? I came here after a hard training, hoping for a good fuck to work off some of that stress. I even brought you fucking flowers!” He grabs the glass of water and throws it against the wall so hard it shatters. Water soaks into the drywall not far from where a framed photo of us together hangs. I put it there to cover the hole Craig punched through the wall a few weeks ago. He apologized and promised to fix it but never got around to actually doing it.
Tears fill my eyes and I hate them for showcasing how weak and useless I am. They also make Craig even angrier. He hates tears. “The-the mushrooms,” I whisper, desperate to save the situation. Tonight was supposed to be perfect. I did everything right! “I went to get the mushrooms you like.”
“These?” Grimacing, Craig pokes the untouched mushrooms with a fork. “They’re not even the right kind, not to mention they’re almost raw. Are you trying to poison me, Amy? Is that it? Get me out of the way so that you could be with your other boyfriend?”
“W-what?” His words finally register, making me realize what he’s accusing me of. “That’s ridiculous! I’d never cheat on you. I love you.”
Craig laughs dryly. “Love me? You have a funny way of showing it.”
“I do love you.” He’s not yelling anymore, so I take my chance to deescalate the situation and rush around the table. He’s stiff when I try to hug him, so I just take his hand, willing him to look into my eyes. Now that Kayla’s moved away, Craig’s all I have. I can’t let him be angry at me. The last time he broke up with me, it nearly destroyed me. I can’t be alone again.
