Page 69 of Molly

Evie shrugs and puts her coffee mug in the sink. Thankfully, Alex is here today. He's handling the front, so we can have a minute to debrief. “I crashed on the couch waiting up for her, and when I woke up, she was in bed.”

Very unlike Penny...

“Uh, Molly?” Alex says, sticking his head through the staff room doorway.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a woman here asking for you. Said her name is Jess, and she's got something she needs to give you.”

Ugh. Where's Penny when you need her.

I nod, put my mug in the sink next to Evie's, and follow him out to the counter. As soon as she sees me, her face breaks out in an evil grin.

So, it's going to be a fun visit then.

I stand on the opposite side of the counter to her, putting a buffer between us. “Jess, what can I do for you?” I ask.

She reaches into her oversized handbag and pulls out a familiar looking, blue t-shirt. “Oh, I just thought I'd return Ryan’s t-shirt. I know you like this one. I can see why. It's super comfy.”

I stare at the shirt in her hand. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. I clear my throat before speaking, but my voice still comes out weak. “When did you...”

“Oh, I think you know when.” She winks and places the top on the counter between us.

It feels like everything around me turns grey. The only colour I see is blue.Mother fucker.

A hand touches my shoulder, and I jump. I turn my head and see Evie hovering next to me, concern written all over her face. “What’s with the t-shirt, Mol?” she asks.

I look back at where Jess was standing to find her gone. I look down at the dark blue material sitting on the counter and fight the urge to throw up.

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Would he? He’s hidden things before. Is this why he didn’t call? Didn’t message? Didn’t come home?

I feel my body start to tremble. I grab the shirt and my keys and storm towards the door. “Molly, sweetie, where are you going?” Evie asks, sounding concerned.

“To murder, Ryan. Be back soon,” I call over my shoulder.

???

RYAN

I’m pouring myself a cup of coffee when someone bangs on the door. I groan and take a sip before dragging my feet down the hallway. The banging continues as I walk, getting louder and louder the closer I get.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I call out.

As I unlock the door and pull it open, a furious-looking Molly barges her way past me, clutching what looks like a t-shirt in her hand.

“Mol, baby, what ar-”

“What the fuck is this?” she asks, holding the shirt up in front of her.

I look down at it and recognise the logo. It was a test version of our Inked on Agnes merch. We were originally going to go with blue, but decided black was best. Molly has slept in it more than once, so I’m not really sure what the issue is here.

My brain is barely functioning at this point. I’ve had one sip of coffee and four hours of sleep. I spent my morning sweeping up more glass and answering phone calls. As predicted, Beckett was a no-show, so I did all the rescheduling myself. I got home ten minutes ago, planning to have a shower and charge my phone, which had fucking died by the time I woke up this morning, before heading back to the shop.

“It’s a t-shirt, Mol...” I say, unsure what she means by the question.

“I know it’s a t-shirt!”

“Okay...”

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