Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I can feel it in my bones.
Dusk comes. The sun begins to sink. Pinks and purples flood the sky. Paola joins me, but still refuses to say a word; she only stares at the glowing clouds like she can read the future in their curves. I’m about to go inside and check on whatever five-course meal Dirk’s whipping up when the crunch of tires on gravel makes me sit forward.
An ATV comes churning toward the house. Emilio’s driving, and sitting behind him is Lesley.
I get up and run toward them. Paola follows. Emilio parks, gets off, and holds out a hand for us to stop, but I ignore him. I throw my arms around Lesley and hug her tight, and I feel her grimace, but I don’t care.
“I was so worried. We’ve all been so worried. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
I pull back and Lesley’s grinning at me. There’s a bruise on her cheek, an ugly little thing, but otherwise she seems unhurt. “I’m fine, really. This isn’t even from them.” She touches her face and winces. “I slipped and bashed my face on a corner trying to run away.”
“Where have you been?”
“In Cask’s house locked in a room. I watched movies on VHS all day and Malcolm made me this honestly delicious fish and chips. It was kind of nice.”
I stare at her and shake my head in wonder. Paola comes over, hugs her, murmurs something about cutting off Malcolm’s balls, and leads her back to the house. Nathan and Dom come out, followed by Dirk and Jayson, and everyone swamps Lesley, clearly relieved that she’s in one piece.
“She really seems okay,” I say, feeling surprised. I glance at Emilio, but he’s not smiling. He grunts in response and glances at me, and there’s a darkness in his eyes.
“She’s full of shit.” His face tenses like he wants to say more, but he only sighs and walks toward the house, joining the others.
I stand there, trying to process. She’s full of shit? What’s that supposed to mean? Something else happened that she’s not talking about and I can tell it’s bothering Emilio. I don’t know how he got her back, but right now I don’t care. All I want is for Lesley to be safe and everyone to be happy.
We have a welcome home dinner—cooked by Dirk, obviously—and crack open a case of beer in celebration. Lesley seems to enjoy the attention and regales everyone with the story of her daring attempted break-in and the capture that followed, and she seems totally fine with how everything went down. The tension of the day melts away, replaced by an almost giddy, celebratory joy. We eat, drink, laugh, and only Emilio retains some of his anxiety. He’s like a black hole sitting in the corner, fuming, while everyone else releases their stress and tries to move on.
I sit with Lesley out back later that night. Most of the others are playing beer pong in the kitchen, and we’re alone in the dim yard lights. Her hands shake as she takes a cigarette from a pack and lights it. “Don’t judge me. I’ve had a bad day.”
“Where’d you get them?”
“Emilio smuggles them in. I stole these things from the basement.” She sighs and takes a drag. “I fucking hate smoking. Really, it’s disgusting.”
“Then why smoke now?”
“I need something to calm me down. I feel like my skin’s on fire or like a thousand ants are going to eat their way through my guts.” She leans back and closes her eyes.
I shift my chair closer to her. Inside, someone yells, and a riot of laughter follows. “Are you okay? You seem like the whole kidnapping thing was no big deal.”
“I’m fine.” She takes a drag. “And I’m not fine. Mostly, I’m not fine.”
I feel something sinking in my stomach. “Les, what really happened at the house?”
She glances at me. The cherry red ember glows in the night. The smoke wreaths her, curling. She’s pretty, big eyes, full lips, a nice smile when she shows it. Right now, she looks ten years older.
“Everything I said is true. They chased me, caught me, and tossed me in one of their rooms. I didn’t mention that room was in the back of the house and it smelled like moldy dog shit. They gave me a bucket to piss in and the TV was mounted in the corner and bolted to the wall. It was like a fucking torture cell, like they’ve been using it to kidnap people for years. There was a drain in the floor, Kaye.” She shudders and takes another drag. “It was rusty and stained red. I’m not sure if it was from blood or they made it look that way to freak me out.”
I try to match up what she’s saying now with the way she’s been acting since she got back. “Does Emilio know?”