Page 15 of Break for Me

“Then why did you have me put them on in the first —?”

“Because the sidewalk around a disgusting motel could have anything on it. Did you want to be barefoot out here?” I snapped. “But Seph gets treated with respect. God only knows where your shoes have been. And she stays clean.”

“Seph?” She asked.

“Persephone,” I said and motioned to the car. “Seph.”

“Do you take your shoes off to drive?” She asked, giving me a side-eye like she thought I was pulling a prank.

“No. There’s a plastic film that covers my floormat.”

“Seriously. Is this a joke? You want me to take my shoes off to get in the trunk of your car?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“No.”

I could’ve happily lived my entire life without hearing Memphis choke on her own giggle in my ear.

“I wasn’t asking.”

Trista looked around the entire parking lot, very clearly wondering how far she’d get if she took her chance now. I laughed again before I bent at the knees and put my shoulder directly in her stomach to just fucking hoist her up. She didn’t even have enough time to throw a fit about it before I plopped her entire body in the trunk. I ripped her shoes back off one at a time while she tried to kick me away and I tossed them to the ground right beside me.

“If you do anything to hurt her back here, it won’t end well for you,” I said and pointed a finger in Trista’s face.

“What? Who? Hurt who?”

“Seph.”

“The fucking car?”

“Watch your face,” I said before I slammed the hatch closed. She started to scream while I picked up her shoes.

“You probably didn’t have to put this one in the trunk,” Memphis said.

“No, but I absolutely wanted to.”

The sound of her kicking and punching the inside of the trunk was like music to my angry ears while I stuffed her shoes back into her bag.

“You could’ve let her change out of the dress,” Memphis added.

“And let her change right into her running clothes? I don’t think so,” I said. “I was nice enough to let her have shoes at all. I was nice enough to let her bring her shit with her. That’s about as far as my kindness will extend for this one.”

“You can’t fuck her, Jersey Boy.”

“I can’t —? You think I want to —? What?”

“You’re like thirteen years older than her.”

“Why do you know how old I am?” I asked, knowing full well that she’d never answer that. “The risk of me killing her is significantly higher than the risk of me fucking her, Memphis.”

I pulled down the visor to scowl at the look of my busted lip in the little mirror. I flipped the visor up again and started to remove the little camera from my jacket before I took the jacket off entirely and rolled up my shirt sleeves.

“I’m going to drive a long stretch just to get a good start,” I said. I glanced at the map that Memphis had already pulled up on the computer screen next to me. “Find me somewhere off the main roads and out of any city to stop. Aim for Montana.”

twelve

TRISTA

---