‘Vin?’ He’s crying. ‘Vin, let me talk to Avery. P-p-please, he has to come get me.’
The voice on the other end is smooth and calm as cold glass. ‘Avery’s busy right now.’
No.
No.
‘P-please.’ Sam’s voice jumps so high it cracks and he can barely get the words out. ‘Please, d-don’t do this. I need him. I need him.’
‘OK, OK, calm down, kid. I can barely understand you. What happened?’
‘I h-h-hit … I just h-hit—’ Sam shatters. He’s sobbing now, the phone slipping against his cheek.
‘Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you.’
‘I want Avery. Please, I w-want Avery.’
‘I’ll get him for you, kid. Just hold on.’
It’s an impossible command. Sam has nothing left to hold on to.
A car pulls up in front of Sam and headlights blaze white-hot in his eyes. Sam covers his face.
The driver’s door pops open and Vin gets out. She’s crisp and fresh as always, hair neatly styled in waves over one shoulder. She wears high boots that crunch gravel as she strides towards Sam. Kneels down. Tips Sam’s chin up.
There’s blood on his hands.
‘Is it yours?’ she says.
Sam shakes his head. He’s hollowed out.
Vin hauls Sam to his feet. Keeps soft hands on his neck, on his shoulders, and propels him into the car. Sam collapses on the passenger seat, draws his legs up, tucks his head down.
Vin gets in and revs the engine. She pulls a chocolate bar out of the console and slaps it in Sam’s hand. ‘Eat.’
Sam turns his head away.
‘I’m not messing about, kid. You’re in shock.’ Vin snatches the chocolate back and rips the plastic. ‘I won’t take you to Avery until you eat it.’
Tears spill down Sam’s cheeks. ‘I’m going to be sick.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re taking a bite. Right now. Go.’ She revs the engine again. ‘I don’t want to hang around here. Do you?’
Sam takes a bite.
He tastes blood and no chocolate at all. But he takes another bite and another as Vin pulls the car back on to the highway and speeds into town. Vin only slows down for traffic lights and a cop car pulls past and drives off the way they came. She doesn’t comment.
Chocolate melts and smears on Sam’s fingers. He wipes it on his jeans. He looks at his waistcoat, Moxie’s amazing, detailed work. Her pride.
Bloodstains stare back.
‘So Avery’s working,’ Vin says finally.
Robbing houses. Armed burglary.
‘Why aren’t … you working?’ Sam’s voice sounds numb and thin even to him.
‘I organise.’ Vin shifts gears and the car shoots through an intersection. ‘I plan. I say jump and people jump and the job goes perfectly. Chocolate help?’
Sam didn’t taste it. But he’s not shaking any more. He’s not sure if it was the sugar or having something to do that wasn’t cycling the image of his fists coming down. He leans his head against the window.
‘Good,’ says Vin, voice elegant and easy, ‘because I want you to do something for me.’
Sam’s stomach flips. ‘I can’t … please. I just want Avery.’
‘You do this, and you get Avery. I’ll put you both up in a motel so you can hide for a few days. I’ll sort it all out, you hear me? It goes away when I want it to.’
It goes away.
The sob comes out unbidden. Sam presses his arm over his mouth.
How much goes away? Tonight?
The whole summer?
Moxie?
‘You just have to climb through a window, flip off an alarm, and open a door. Nothing else.’ Vin spins the steering wheel. Streetlights flash in Sam’s eyes. ‘Then you sit in the car, I do a bit of work, and we go pick up Avery.’
She flips off the headlights and slides the car into an empty underground car park. She pulls up and shuts off the engine.
‘I can’t,’ Sam whispers. Can he even walk right now? He is an empty pit, the darkness drained to puddles of tears and despair and hate hate hate.
Vin turns on him, her face a blank hollow in the shadows except for perfect red lips. ‘You do it, or I throw you to the cops. Help me and I fix everything. It’s not a decision.’
Sam swallows.
‘Get out of the car,’ Vin says.
Sam gets out of the car.
They walk three blocks. Vin keeps them in the shadows, avoiding storefronts where there might be cameras. She has a black duffle bag slung over a shoulder. Sam has to admit – Vin knows what she’s doing. There’s a sense of safety in that. Comfort. If someone else points the way, says take this, sit here, keep your mouth shut now – you get to be safe.
This is why Avery keeps working for her, isn’t it? He wants to be safe, same as Sam. But he found his safe among thorns and poison and Sam dug his out of warm earth and sunlight.
Part of Sam’s brain shuts off, the part that reminds him that he would’ve kept hitting if Jeremy hadn’t pulled him off. He doesn’t want to be like this. He focuses on Vin’s heeled boots. Follow. Step here. Keep quiet.
don’t
think.
They climb a fence and drop into a small car park lined with banksias and lavender. A building looms up like a brick mountain, a single light at the back door. Sam has no idea what time it is. Midnight?
‘What is this place?’ His voice is low.
Vin keeps them in the dark mouth of the fence and then crouches to unzip the duffle. ‘Art gallery. They’ve got a piece I’ve wanted for months.’ Vin pulls out a black jacket and shrugs it on. Obviously with her loose hair and heeled boots, she wasn’t planning on a job tonight. ‘I have a contact overseas. It’s an easy ten grand.’
‘Ten grand?’ Sam stares.
Vin’s red lips twitch. ‘You get a cut, little angel. Avery says you’re obsessed with having a house. We can work something out. If you stay on. Keep working for me.’
Sam shifts his gaze away. He wouldn’t – he can’t—
He doesn’t want this.
He doesn’t want to admit he would fit.
He wants to curl up in Moxie’s arms and eat waffles that smell of cinnamon and sunshine. He wants to forget what he’s good at. Fists and theft.