We pulled into the car park where only a single working street lamp shone over a few scattered cars. There was a clear view inside, customers sprinkled throughout, and I turned back from the driver’s seat to face the recruits. Their nervous faces glowered back at me as the rain beat against the top of the car, matching our heartbeats. “Here’s the deal, this is your first run and initiation into the Links. If you can’t follow my instructions or want to back out, now is the time.” No one moved. “Adrian, you pull the car around to the back door. The rest of us are going in.”
“We’re running out the back?” Reggi, the smallest one, asked.
“We’re not running out of there. We’re walking.” I cut the engine and exited the car, and the other two followed as Adrian moved to the driver seat. Behind me, the two boys whispered back and forth as we walked casually through the rain toward the entrance.
The bell chimed as soon as the door opened, and the customers’ eyes flitted over us briefly before going back to their laundry needs. This wasn’t the best side of town, and the residents of Ockendon knew to keep their noses out of everyone’s business.
An older man worked the cash register, reading the newspaper and completely taken off guard. The three of us approached, and I took a step forward as the other two fell back, I’m sure wondering how this was going to play out.
“Do you know why I’m here?” I asked as the old man locked eyes on me over the newspaper. Nodding, he slowly rose from his chair, reaching for something under the counter. I leaned forward and planted both palms over the counter. “You don’t want to do that.” The old man paused. “I know you have video surveillance, and we’re not wearing masks. I know you have a weapon under there because why wouldn’t you when your shop is twenty-four-hour service. And I also know, once we leave here, you won’t ring the police because this laundromat only pays for your … repulsive fetishes.”
His bushy brows snapped together. “Who are you?” he asked, and I’m not so sure I know myself anymore.
“There is a car waiting at the back entrance, and you’ll fill it with the contents from the safe in the back room. You can keep the money from the register. It isn’t but a hundred quid, anyway—plus, your wife deserves something pretty after the shit you’ve put her through—and we’ll leave without disturbing your customers.”
The older man looked past me to James standing behind me to my left before he nodded, having more to lose if this entire ordeal went bad. The three of us followed him back to the safe, and I ordered Reggi to get back in the car as James and I helped the chap fill two laundry bags to the brink with cash.
We tossed the bags into the truck, and I slammed it shut. “You have a nice night, Mr. Taylor.”
The old chap, eyes fuming in a blind rage, shook as I got into the, now empty, driver seat before driving away.
Before I’d shown up at Jack’s Pub, I’d learned the laundromat we were jacking tonight was owned by Mr. Taylor, who wasn’t as innocent as he claimed to be. Even though he had more than enough money to take care of his family, his pounds went toward thirteen and fourteen-year-old girls Oscar had previously groomed for him. Oscar was gone, but I wasn’t naïve to believe his taste dissipated in Oscar’s absence.
“What the fuck just happened?” Adrian stated at my side from the passenger seat.
“Know your target, my friend. You always have to be ten steps ahead.”
Laurie, Travis, and I arrived in London for my first book signing, and I’d escaped from their tight leash in search of the toilet room as they set up the booth. Daunt Books was a three-story wonder in the eyes of a dreamer, with mahogany shelving and railings, wooden staircases, and leather seating. The details were rich and masculine, showcasing books lined on both walls from one end to the other. The ceiling opened up to the sky, and vibrant green light pendants dropped from above, matching the same color as the paint surrounding the arched window at the end of the building. It smelled of aged paper and coffee, and the serene silence rooted itself in every nook and cranny of the bookstore, wrapping me in temporary peace.
No matter how badly I wanted to enjoy this moment, to celebrate this stepping stone in my career, I couldn’t. Not without Mia here to celebrate with me. What should have been a marvelous moment, ended up being a chore I’d been forced to take part in. It seemed pointless to be here when I could be doing something, anything, to find her. She should be here with me, calming my nerves and telling me she was proud, but she wasn’t.
“There’s no reason to be nervous. You’ll do just fine,” Travis stated, appearing at my side and flipping on the faucet to wash his hands. He never used the loo, and it was just an excuse to talk me down from the cliff my emotions were hanging on. We both knew it, and we never did discuss what happened the other morning. He had his beliefs, I had mine, and there wasn’t anything he could have said for me to change my mind or convince me to stop looking for her.
“I’m not nervous.” I continued to roll the sleeves of my black dress shirt up until it reached my elbows before moving on to my other arm, showing my tattoos. Anything to bring forth the real me under these masked clothes that screamed I was an imposter. “I just don’t do well around crowds.”
I turned to face him, and he looked ridiculous in a white button-up and blazer, though Travis exuded poise and control.
“Everything is set up. There’s a line out the door waiting for you. Laurie wanted to have a pep talk with you before going in, but I told her I had it under control.” Travis forced a reassuring smile. “Your pretty face is on your cover, but I think it’s time to show these people who the real Oliver Masters is.”
“Yeah, whose idea was that anyway?”
“You’re a good-looking chap,” Travis adjusted my collar, “the ladies fancy you and your face sells.” He patted my cheek. “Let’s go, lover boy.”
The event had lasted four hours long. Men and women gushed over my words, talking a million miles a minute, and I couldn’t keep up. Some wanted pictures, and others simply wanted my signature inside a book they either brought with them or purchased from the table. With every passing body, my energy gradually decreased from their emotions, tears, smiles, and life stories they felt compelled to tell me about. My hyper-sensitivity made the entire event worse, mentally and physically drained from absorbing whatever they were putting off.
“Oliver?” a familiar voice stated, and I turned from the table Laurie and Travis were packing up to see the girl with the L name staring up at me with my book clutched to her chest. She looked different than when I’d first seen her at Jinx’s party, no lipstick, roots touched up, and wearing a pastel floral dress despite the cold temperatures outside. L no longer looked like my mum. Did she make the hour trip to London just to see me?
“You two know each other?” Travis asked, his palm smacking my tense back.
I tilted my head toward him. “A friend of a friend.”
“Well, in that case,” he held out his hand, and his gaze slid over her bare legs, “Travis Lehman.”
“Leigh,” she introduced herself, shaking his hand with eyes locked on me. It made me uncomfortable. “Looks like I missed the event.”
“It’s okay, would you like for me to sign the book? I didn’t know you were into poetry.” I couldn’t recall her mentioning it back at the party I’d met her at, though I was drunk and could have missed the entire conversation. Leigh held out my book with my face on it, and I grabbed it, leaned over the empty table, and retrieved a pen from the back pocket of my jeans.
As I signed, she added, “Can I get a picture, too? If that’s all right, of course.”
