Selkie
I’m like a proud mother as I drive towards the Reno Police Station.
Oscar sits beside me with a silly grin on his face.
“Exciting, huh?” I say.
He schools his features. “I didn’t mind it.”
“Don’t be such a teenager.”
“I can’t help it,” Oscar replies.
Toper’s in the backseat. Brambles is next to him, sitting on his haunches and staring menacingly. Say what you want about the dog, but the aspect of intimidation is one of his favourite things to do.
It’s clear in the tone of Toper’s voice that Brambles is succeeding. “Get the dog to back off.”
“I can’t control him,” I reply. “And don’t nudge him or anything. He’ll rip your face off and then you’ll bleed all over my car.”
Brambles growls low in his throat as if he understands the game.
“Listen,” Toper says. “I got loads of money. You let me go, I’ll get some for you. This can go away.”
I pretend I’m contemplating it. “How much?”
Oscar gasps. “You can’t let him go.”
How did a father like Eight get a kid like Oscar? “What would your father do?”
“Take him in!” Oscar exclaims.
“Really,” I reply, genuinely confused. “Because, you know, he’s a member of Hell’s Jury and all.”
Oscar groans. “Don’t share information like that in front of the enemy.”
“Doesn’t everyone know?”
“I doubt it. And the assh—Toper doesn’t need to know your association with Hell’s Jury.”
I think about it. He’s probably right. “You’re probably right.”
“I am right!”
Toper interrupts our little spat. “About the money?”
“No!” Oscar snarls as he twists to face him. “You’re goin’ down.”
“I have no choice but to take you in,” I say to Toper. “I already logged you in. So you’re basically screwed.”
I glance at Oscar who nods.
“You know who I am, bitch?” Toper spits.
I look over at Oscar. “Do you know who he is?”
Oscar plays along. “Let me check.” He pretends to look at my phone. “Reese Toper. Middle name Eamon.” He rolls his eyes and mutters, “Rich people and their stupid names.”
“I hear that,” I reply.
