Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“I think I can get her phone without spilling anything on her.”
“I’m sure you can, but she’s wearing white, so let’s go the distance with this.” I dip my last few fries in ketchup and pop them in my mouth with a grin.
Brock eyes me for a second before he gets it. Sure, the main goal is Molly’s phone, but for a grand, I’m going to fuck up her overpriced outfit and embarrass the shit out of her. Technically, her dad’s paying for this lunchtime entertainment.
“Brock, if you can’t do this, I understand. I mean … you could get fired.”
“Pfft. I have two other jobs. Who gives a shit?”
He makes his way to her table with a full glass of Diet Coke. I have to cover my grin with my hand when it goes down.
“Oh my god!” Molly explodes into a hissy fit, pushing back in her chair and standing. Her mouth opens in shock as Diet Coke soaks into her white clothes.
Her friends jump to attention, offering their napkins while Brock profusely apologizes and jogs to the kitchen to get rags to clean it up. He detours past my table, depositing the phone under my napkin.
I touch the screen, so it doesn’t lock. I have a short amount of time to get the video onto her phone and a group text sent.
Hey, just wanted to let everyone know Colin and I are a thing now.
After a few minutes, Brock walks past my table, snatches the phone, and returns it to the table, dropping it in Molly’s handbag without anyone noticing.
Money well spent.
I exit the back of the restaurant and call Archer. Usually, I’d text, but a phone call feels more rewarding today.
“What?” he barks in an angry, clipped tone.
“Hello to you too.”
“Iris, I don’t have time to talk. I have to kill someone. Fuck! I just … have to go.”
“Sorry. Hope it all works out.”
He mumbles a few expletives before a muffled “bye.”
To be fair, I don’t have kids. So I can only imagine how I might feel if my daughter announced her relationship status by sending out a group text with a video of her by the river getting nailed from every angle and a slow-motion segment of her snorting coke off her naked boyfriend’s abs.
Is it fair to Colin? Perhaps not, but how fair was it to screw his friend’s girlfriend? Colin is acceptable collateral damage.
I wait in my car parked across the street. When I see Molly exiting the restaurant, I roll down my windows. Her friends stop walking, gazes glued to their phones. Molly waddles like she has something up her ass, pulling her wet, stained shirt away from her body.
When she notices her friends are ten steps behind her, unmoving, heads bowed to their phones, she yells, “Let’s go! I have to get out of these fucking clothes!”
They ignore her.
She huffs and retraces her steps back to them, glancing at their phones. It takes less than two seconds.
“Oh my god …” Her fingers stab through her hair, clenching it while her head shakes in disbelief.
Nuclear meltdown.
She sobs, rifling through her purse for her phone. After she checks it, it gets hurled across the parking lot. Her friends huddle together as if they don’t know what to say. They look terrified of her.
They should be.
She’s a murderer. A whore. And she doesn’t deserve the air she breathes.
I grin, slipping on my sunglasses and pulling away from the curb. I think that was worth a grand of Archer’s money.
Eloise subscribes to the idea that life plays out as intended—a balance of good and evil. Today was a good day, maybe too good. And to balance things, my parents’ Chevy Traverse is parked in the driveway of my brother’s charred house when I return to Boone.
“Shit,” I grumble, climbing out of my car and sliding my sunglasses onto my head.
They turn toward me when they hear my car door close. I may still be single because I choose to do everything by myself. My best friend died a week before I got my bachelor’s degree. My family found out nearly six months later because I chose to deal with the grief alone. And I knew if I told them, I’d not only have my grief to deal with I’d have their pity and constant checking in on me. So yeah, Molly Sanford burned down my brother’s house, and I haven’t mentioned it to my parents. I guess word got out.
Mom’s unblinking gaze affixes to me, mouth agape.
“What the hell happened?” Dad’s not one to beat around the bush.
“It caught fire.” I cross my arms and inspect the remains as though I’m seeing them for the first time.
“W-when?” Mom stutters.
“A few days ago.”
“Why did we find out from the Helgusons?” Dad asks, eyes squinted.
“Who are the Helgusons?” The name’s not familiar to me.