Page 21 of Pack of Crooks
“Maybe I should quit cheer.”
My chest suddenly has a gaping hole. I’ve tried so hard to give her financial security, something I never had with Mom. The weight of my failure threatens to crush me. “Absolutely not,” I tell her sternly. “You love cheer. Don’t worry, okay? We have enough money.”
“But the car?—”
Right. The fucking car we need to travel for different competitions. “We’ll get it back.”
She nods, but I see the doubt. The fear. The worry I’ve tried my damndest to keep her from dealing with.
I loop my arm over her shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” she says without hesitation.
“Then trust me when I say we’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” she whispers, glancing up at me. “I love you.”
“I love you too, bug.” I boop her nose, and she scowls at me. She used to love being called bug. I think she still does, only nowshe’s too old for those sorts of nicknames. Won’t stop me from using it. She’ll always be my little bug.
Keeping a tight hold of all the worry and fear swirling inside my chest, the self-loathing that threatens to rip me to shreds right here on the sidewalk, I give her a hug goodbye, remind her to text me when she makes it, and plaster on a bright smile as she heads into the subway, getting lost in a sea of bodies.
I wait until the subway departs with a scream of air before I let the smile fade, vision blurring as I head back home to change into a cute dress, lacey tights, and my favorite Chelsea boots. Sometimes you have to let the girls breathe to get a good deal at a pawn shop. I grab the watch, ring and matching wrist band.
Time to make some money.
Wearing a dress in New York is always a little risky in September. One day the weather will be nice, close to eighty degrees, and the next? BAM, the winds shift and suddenly it’s forty degrees with a high of forty-five and the tights feel like a bad idea.
Fighting a shiver, I chew on my cheek as I leave the ferry and follow the app on my phone to the pawn shop. Staten Island is a nice relief from all the skyscrapers. Whoever fought for zoning restrictions on the island knew what they were doing. The neighborhoods are cleaner too—probably because most of the people that live here hop on the ferry and go to work.
LOTTIE
I made it.
HAZEL
I love you. Make good choices.
You too.
I’m not sure which thing she’s referring to, but I can’t afford to be good. Not with bills piling up. I take steadying breaths and start the walk to the shop. A cab would be nice, but I need time to breathe. To get out of my head. After passing the zoo, I head down Manor road, edging closer to the first shop I wanted to try.
A black SUV with tint so dark it has to be illegal rolls by, slowing as it passes. I make a point to pretend not to notice. I removed my omega mark, but the fear that comes along with being an unmated omega has never really gone away. We’re all taught at a very young age how easy it would be for alphas to control us. I guess the only good thing about Mom’s terrible boyfriends is that I’m desensitized to most alpha barks.
It’ll take an alpha I want to submit to, or one that’s excessively dominant, to command me. The average alpha is neither so I’m usually safe.
Even still, that inherent fear lingers.
The SUV slowly approaches the stop sign at the end of the block, and I take a fortifying breath, remind myself that I’m safe, they’re probably texting, and continue on my way. I avoid glancing at the vehicle and take a right. The pawn shop is just a block away, tucked between other buildings, but the giant sign painted across the red brick makes it glaringly obvious where I need to go.
The owners mean business. Hopefully enough to give me a good deal.
An alert hits my phone and I glance down, hand on the bar of the door.
Lottie
Can I stay over at Sarah’s for her birthday?
Of course you can. Just get me the details.
