Page 3 of The Players

Still, our house had not undergone any major renovations. It was still a two-bedroom ranch with aging siding and a rickety front porch. The right window needed replacing and the A.C. unit that clung to the other window was close to falling out, but it didn’t matter because it had stopped working two years ago. The houses down the block were still dirty and rundown. However, the feeling I got when I stepped inside and saw my grandmother at the stove was all the prize I needed.

When I thought about nearly losing her…

She’d gone into a diabetic coma after hiding the fact that she couldn’t afford her insulin any longer. I’d known things were bad, but I hadn’t guessed how bad they were. How could I have not seen her decline or the way she spent her money on me instead of her life-saving pills?

Stupid. So stupid.

Never. That couldneverhappen again.

“Hello, punkin,” Gram said, her face lighting up as I came into the house. This time it smelled like homemade bread and some sort of pot roast. The few weeks of good meals, steady meds, and a lot of rest had done wonders for her. Her short white hair was sporting a fresh cut, and there was a little color in her cheeks from the time she spent out in the backyard garden, getting the last of the fall harvest. “Dinner will be ready in twenty.”

“Smells good,” I said leaning in to kiss her on the cheek before hanging my purse on a hook, next to her giant, granny bag and a plastic grocery bag full of others. “You need help?”

“Nope. We all know what happens when you get in the kitchen.”

“If you are talking about the time I set your kitchen towel on fire—”

“I am, and we both know it. I almost lost my eyebrows, and you know how partial I am to those. Darling, you set the table and leave the cooking to me.”

I did as she asked, happy to be relieved of cooking duty. There were a lot of things I was good at, but domestic chores were not on that list. I pulled out the 1970s cutlery and yellowing ceramic plates. I set two sets on the sunflower placemats before moving her stack of newspapers and coupon clippings to an empty chair. It would only be two of us as it was most nights.

“Is Randy coming to dinner?” Gram asked as if sensing my thoughts.

“Not tonight. She’s gotta work at the store.”

Gram shook her head. “They work her so hard, poor thing. I hope they at least pay her.”

“They do.”

Randy’s parents owned a grocery store which meant Randy had to work more than most teenagers I knew. It helped that Randy’s parents were nice people and often gave us free food and snacks whenever we wanted. Still, I missed her. I’d been spending a lot of time with the boys, and she’d been spending a lot of time at work. I worried we were growing apart.

Right now, I had bigger fish to fry. Mainly Easton Hill and this so-called secret that could turn my life upside down again.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket.

“Speak of the devil,” I said with a smile, thinking Randy must have psychic powers if she knew to text me right as I was thinking of her.

I pulled my phone out and swiped the pattern to unlock it.

One text waited. I clicked it open…

And dropped the phone to the floor.

Gram glanced back. “Vivian, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” I said, lying again. I could barely get my breathing under control.

With shaking hands, I picked up the phone and glanced at the text message. I hadn’t been wrong. The words were there, loud and clear.

Even though the message was from an unlisted number, only one person would talk to me this way.

Easton Hill.

I stared at the message again, my eyes blurring as my heart began to pound uncontrollably.

ANONTXT: Hello, orphan. I’m back and you are going to PAY for what you did.

Chapter two

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