“Now it’s time to help me, Justine,” I said. “Time to help me tell this guy to fuck off forever.”
“You can’t just let it die?” she said. “Like, don’t say anything?”
“You say that like we’ll never see a Black Reaper again. And like I don’t own a gas station that many of them come by.”
“I…wouldn’t that make it more of a reason not to say something shitty to them? To be on good terms?”
“I thought you said they’re not bad once you know their backstories.”
Justine sighed.
“Just don’t say anything that would get Connor wanting to hurt you.”
“Oh, he won’t. He’s not like that.”
You can give him the benefit of the doubt so easily. Maybe it’s because you don’t have the right idea of him? Maybe it’s because there’s more to him than you think?
“Connor,” I said out loud, mirroring the words that I wrote. “You are a fucking shithead. We had something great, and now you are going to tell me that I was just one and done. I think you’re lying.”
I paused and looked at Justine, who only had her eyebrows arched. Anytime someone was as blunt as me, it seemed to catch her by surprise.
But her look got me to pause just a second. I wasn’t accusing Connor of being a dick. I was accusing him of being a liar. And if that was the case…what was the truth?
Was it worth pursuing?
I deleted that part.
“How dare you do this to me after the time we had. I trusted you. You’re a fucking dick.”
I looked to Justine for approval. She shrugged.
“I would just not say anything,” she said. “At most, if you have to see him, be curt in the gas station and make minimal contact. But you’re only going to spark further flames if you say something like that.”
“Like I haven’t said worse,” I said.
I moved my thumb to hit send. But just before I did, I noticed that a notification popped up from one of my store employees, Lakisha. I briefly considered hitting send, but if a store employee was texting me on a Saturday night like this, that wasn’t a good sign. It wasn’t to wish me a good time.
I clicked back and opened up her message.
“Katie, bad news.”
Ah, shit, what now.
“Store just got robbed. Guy came in brandishing a firearm. Didn’t hurt anyone, but we got cleared out of our cash and some of our cigarettes.”
Fuck.
The Bandits.
One hundred percent guarantee it’s the motherfucking assholes.
“What’s wrong?” Justine asked.
I sighed.
“Maybe I shouldn’t tell Connor to fuck off,” I said. “I might be needing his services soon.”
“What do you mean?”
