Page 71 of Blackmail
I look around as if I might be able to somehow catch the culprit.
Simon glances up at my question, looking surprised. Almost as if he forgot I was here.
His brother brings his hand to his lip, then shakes his head slowly. “I fell. Sort of. It was dark when I left, and I had to climb over a fence. I managed not to cut myself, but then I kind of landed on my face.”
Simon’s mouth drops open. “Wait. You ran away? They didn’t tell you to leave?”
“Is that a typical thing? Kicking teenagers out?” It’s none of my business, but I’m overly invested and angry on Simon’s behalf.
“Sort of,” his brother says slowly. “Or at least, it used to be. Unless you’re a boy born into one of the upper-tier families, it used to be that when you reached adulthood, you’d be encouraged to go out into the world and ‘find yourself.’ You were also strongly discouraged from returning.”
I glance at Simon. “Is that what happened to you?”
He and his brother share another look. “Not exactly. I was caught in a compromising situation with the pastor’s son, so I ran away. Wait.” He turns back to his brother. “You said they used to kick out the teenage males. If they don’t anymore, then what happened?”
“Months ago, people started basically disappearing. Instead of being escorted to the gate and given a few dollars to get them by, they were gone in the middle of the night. You knew it happened when you saw someone’s mama crying through her chores the next day. I overheard Caleb Morris’s mama asking the Lord why she hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “How many times has this happened?”
“A few. It’s not a big community, so not a lot. But I put it together that it was always the same type of guys. A few weeks before their eighteenth birthday they’d suddenly be gone. Morris, Bart, and then Caleb all vanished in the last few months. I’m eighteen next month, so I figured it would be better to plan on leaving before it was done for me.”
Simon pulls his brother in for another hug. “I’m so glad you’re not hurt worse. Where in God’s name are your shoes?”
“I left at night so nobody would question what I was doing. I wore slippers instead of boots so I wouldn’t make noise. With all the rain we’ve had lately, the mud destroyed them quickly. It’s okay, though, Isaiah. I sent you that message saying I was hoping to see you, remember? Honestly, I’m relieved.”
“Relieved?”
“Isaiah?” I ask.
Simon points at me. “If you value your life, you’ll never fucking call me that again.” He points to his brother. “You either.”
The lanky teen, who has several inches on Simon, smiles slightly and ruffles his hair. “You know how it is there. What happened after Pop… It was better for me to leave.”
Simon’s eyes widen. It’s not my place, but every word of this exchange makes me wish I could see inside his head.
“Honestly, I’m glad I was able reach you,” his brother continues. “I didn’t even know if you’d still be around.”
“I wasn’t planning to be for much longer. I’d given up on any of the rest of you guys leaving. I’ve almost got enough saved up for moving expenses. As soon as I pay off this guy I owe money to, pass my exams, and find a new job, I’m out of here.”
My head snaps around. He owes Brennan money? Is that why he’s escorting?
It’s none of your business.
I ignore the hollow sensation in my stomach and instead reach for the frayed backpack dangling from the teenager’s hand. “Let me take that for you. I’m Sebastian, by the way.”
“Oh. Sorry.” The kid sticks out his hand. “Gabe. Nice to meet you. I’ll hang on to this, though.” He gestures to the backpack. “It’s kind of all I’ve got at the moment.”
“No, it isn’t.” Simon shakes his head, jaw firm. “Whatever I’ve got is yours. You know that. Except my sex toy collection.”
Gabe gags. “Gross. I don’t want to know about that.”
“I do.”
Simon points a finger at me. “You shut your filthy mouth.”
“I didn’t even say anything filthy.” I lean down to whisper in his ear, “I’d like to later, though.”
Unfortunately, Simon puts a foot of distance between us that tells me my flirting isn’t welcome.
