“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” She rose from her chair. “While I’m wrecking cameras, you gotta round up our would-be Traders and send them to the creek. Soon as the cameras are gone, we make our move. We get our lives back.”
37
Before leaving the townhouse lot, Ash noticed a crumpled tarp in the back of her father’s truck. She wondered if it could serve as a sort of privacy curtain up at the creek. Worth a shot, she figured. If she and Berke draped it along the bend, they might not need to destroy all nine cameras.
Ash tucked the tarp under her arm and jogged north toward Berke’s house. She cut between neighbors’ lawns, flinching at the achingly cold bursts of late-night wind. Even with a hoodie beneath her jacket, the sub-freezing temps chewed through her. She quickened her pace in hopes of warming up, but she was all shivers by the time she reached Slope Ave.
Someone honked behind her. She veered from the sidewalk onto a snow-dusted yard. The honk sounded again. She pretended not to hear and kept trudging uphill. After a third honk, she checked over her shoulder and caught glaring headlights.
Her van’s headlights.
Shit.
She buried her cast in her jacket pocket.
And not a moment too soon.
Cheeto pulled up alongside her. He rolled down the passenger window, revealing his stupidly charming grin.
“Hey, street walker, how much to hire you?”
“Thirty mill.”
“What a steal.”
She snorted. “Shame you can’t afford it.”
“You’d be surprised.” Cheeto leaned over to shove open the passenger door. “Want a ride?”
“Nope. Need the exercise.”
His grin faded. “What’s with the tarp? And why you marching around town after 2 am?”
“Better question: Why are you following me after 2 am?”
“I wasn’t. I decided to drive around and clear my head after the bars closed. Had a rough day, y’know? This chick promised she’d eat lunch with me but never texted back.”
“Yeah, well, that chick had a rough day herself.” She kept walking as he drove alongside her, the van door still open. The idiot couldn’t take a hint. “Bet if you left her alone, she’d write you a rain check.”
“Well, it’s gonna be a snow check at this rate. You hear about the blizzard? Like five hundred feet of snow tomorrow. Our van can barely handle dry roads, let alone slushy ones. We gotta head out ASAP.” He patted the passenger seat. “Come on, Ashes. Fort Lauderdale beckons.”
“We’ll be fine. The weather stations overhype shit to scare people.”
“Even if they’re half-right, we’ll be stranded.”
“Then drive south tonight. I’ll catch a flight tomorrow.”
“A flight? In a blizzard?”
“I’ll rent a fucking snowmobile if I have to.” She slammed the van door shut and marched up the sidewalk. When she glanced back, she saw Cheeto smack his forehead against the steering wheel in frustration.
Then the driver’s door clicked open and out he came. He raced over to her, hair tumbling over his face. He brushed it away, and his eyes met hers with concern. “Everything okay, Ash?”
He never called her Ash. Not unless things were serious.
“Yeah.” She buried her cast deeper into her pocket. “I’m fine.”
“You’re being weird though.”
“Weird?” She twisted uncomfortably at the waist. “How so?”
“The way you have your hand buried in your pocket.”
“It’s cold out, dumbass.”
He shrugged. “If something’s wrong, you can tell me.”
“Have you been snorting again? You sound paranoid.” She resumed walking and quickened her pace, but he grabbed her arm. Her left arm. She tried prying herself free but couldn’t. “Let go!”
“I know about your hand.”
Her stomach turned to stone. He knows. Somehow he’d figured it out. Or found out. But that didn’t mean she’d let him see it.
“It’s in a cast, right?” he asked.
“Right. A cast.” So he didn’t know the full truth. Good. “It’s only a precaution. I’ll be ready for Friday.”
“Can I see?” He tilted his head. “Trent said—”
“Trent? He told you?” She gritted her teeth. When she got back to the house, she was gonna grab her brother’s cane and feed it to him. “What’d he say?”
“He asked if I’d seen your hand lately.”
She blew out a sigh. “I’ll be fine, okay? I’m gonna see a specialist tomorrow, then I’ll head south and meet up with you guys.”
His grip on her elbow loosened. He started rubbing his thumb along her forearm. It almost soothed her. “If it’s bad, we could talk to the promoters. See if they can reschedule us.”
“You know they can’t. It’s a farewell tour. Friday’s the final show. We miss this chance, we’re not getting another.”
“But if you can’t play—”
“I will play. Now fuck off.”
Ash pulled free and rushed uphill, practically running. Once she put enough distance between them, she turned around. There he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, the van parked several car-lengths behind him. His hair flapped against his face like fire in the wind. She wanted to apologize. Wanted to confess everything.
When she opened her mouth, she remembered she couldn’t.
38
Thirty minutes, three steep hills, and two burning thighs later, Ash reached the highest level of the woods. She hunched over and panted beside Berke, who refused to stop for breathers. They picked their way through the darkness, sidestepping pines and leaping deadfalls until Ash thought she heard uninvited noise.
“Wait,” she said, grabbing Berke’s sweatshirt. “Hear that?”
“Oh, come on,” Berke said. “You’re just stalling.”
“I’m not.” Ash hugged the tarp against her chest to quiet it. “I heard a crunch, like someone stepping on a twig.”
“We both keep stepping on twigs.”
“It was behind me. I know what I heard.”
“Know what I’m hearing? Excuses.”
Berke zipped ahead, nimble as a rabbit. She took shortcuts. Ducked under fallen trees. Hurdled rotten logs. Ash kept pace until her dreads got snagged on a branch. The sharp, sudden twist made her holler in pain. After untangling herself, she trudged on as if moving through waist-high mud.
“Hurry up!” Berke clapped like a coach on the sidelines. “Fight through it. C’mon. Don’t you want your hand back?”
“You have no idea. Guitar is my everything.”
“What kind of music you play?”
“Gritty, angry metal. It’ll knock your tits off the moment you push Play.”
“Oh, wow. Alex loves that kind of stuff.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“Girlfriend.” Berke picked at her chin-length hair. “I look straight to you?”