“What for?” Sneak asks.
Bless his ignorance.Pocky glares at the kid, putting him in his place.
I sigh and slump against the cool brick wall of the store. I can’t imagine Pocky would be any good in a chase or Medicine Man. So, if I can get past both of them, I really only need to get a head start on Sneak and the dead-eye dude. I test the binds around my ankles, yet the fucking things are tied tight. I can’ttake a small step, let alone hope to break free and run. Medicine Man has used two lengths to create an intertwined pair of figure eights. I’m not going anywhere fast, not until I find something sharp to wear the plastic down.
The four men hang about in silence, seemingly killing the time. Surely not just for this van, though? What did I interrupt when I ran in here?
Pocky leans against what must be his bike, head hung, and eyes closed as he waits. Medicine Man continues to eyeball me, his cigarette getting smaller and smaller. Sneak sits on a crate a few feet from mine, shredding a strip of packaging paper into tiny squares that he flicks into the alley. Dead-Eyes works his phone.
None of them seem to be in any great hurry.
I lean forward as though to stretch my back and steal a look down the alley toward the road. What was this vulture they talked about? Is Dad around? And if so, how can I get his attention without these fucks knowing?
As though on cue, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Thank the stars I put the darn thing on silent at work and forgot to turn it back on; otherwise, I guarantee these morons would confiscate it when they realized their mistake.
The phone stills, and yet, the men still whittle away the time.
It vibrates again.Damn it.There’s nothing I can do. The taunt of a lifeline useless against my hip, torture.
“How much longer?” Sneak asks.
I could kiss his whiskey face.
“Any minute now,” Pocky says without opening his eyes.
Dead-Eyes stares at the mouth of the alley, also, pushing off the box he leaned against to stalk toward the street.
I still can’t make out his name.
“You know,” I say to Medicine Man. “It might be easier if you just ask me instead of staring at me until the answer comes to you.”
He smirks. “You are familiar.”
“I’m so thrilled.”
“Where have we seen you before?”
I glance at Sneak, expecting him to stare at me, also, considering he started this whole thing. But to my surprise, he stares at the ground as though he hopes Medicine Man will drop it.He knows.He’s remembered where he’s seen me before.
I shuffle around to face him and lean closer to whisper, “What’s the answer?”
He peeks up at me and then resumes staring at the ground. His cheeks grow rosy.
He’s embarrassed, which means…Oh shit.They know me fromthere.Damn.
I turn to face Medicine Man again, also hoping he’ll drop it. My phone vibrates a third time, making my heart grow even heavier.
The door to Pocky’s right cracks open with a loud squeak of the hinges, and the men all snap to attention. I mentally map the storefronts and try to work out which store that leads into. Don’t need to think too hard when the person steps into the alley—Davis Anderson.The hell?He’s one of the most vocal anti-bike club protestors at the town meetings, quick to rally his cause at church until Pastor Moore shuts him down, too.
“I’ve got a couple of minutes before people might notice I’ve gone, so cut to the chase,” he snaps at Pocky.
I look at Davis, and then at Pocky, and back.Surely not.
“Thursday,” Pocky tells him. “Seven.”
Seven what?In the morning? Night?
“That’s manageable,” Davis responds, lifting a hand to rub at his ear the same way I watched Pocky do a few minutes ago.
