“Well, I’ve never seen you shop, is all I’m saying. You have ‘people’ for that kind of thing.”
“Fine. Well then, you can come with me.”
“It would be a pleasure, sir,” he says with a lopsided grin, and I lean back in my chair, rubbing my hands over my knees as I stare eagerly out the window.
By the time we arrive at the tiny little white house on the corner of Amelia’s street, I have enough food to feed an army in the car.
Melvin has some strange ideas about what is healthy, insisting on buying some weird sludge calledSpirulina, which I’d never even heard of, let alone put near my body.
“She’s gonna think I’ve lost my mind,” I murmur for the third time as Melvin glances at me in the rearview.
“She’s going to think you care, Mr. Crawford. Is that worse or better than her thinking you’ve lost your mind?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re paid to drive me around, man, not psychoanalyze me.”
“Ah. Was that in my contract?”
“Shut the hell up,” I grumble as I open the door and head up the drive. I decide to leave everything in the car so that I can see how she’s feeling first. If she tells me to get lost, at least I have my answer about our future.
I knock on the door, looking around at the cracked paving slabs, trash, and weeds around the front step.
After a minute, I hear shuffling footsteps from inside, and a man opens the door.
He’s almost as tall as me, but wide and beefy. He has piggy eyes, bad breath, and a furious expression that makes my hackles rise instantly.
This must be the guy who was screaming his head off the other day.
He looks me up and down. “Who the fuck are you?”
I stare at him, straightening my spine so that I can use my full height to really glare at him.
“I’m Mr. Lucas Crawford. Your daughter’s employer. Is she here?”
He doesn’t look surprised or shocked; his expression doesn’t change at all until his mouth twists into a sneer.
“Oh, you’re the high and mighty asshole, are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“We don’t got no business with you no more. You can get lost.”
He tries to shut the door, and I slam my arm against it, feeling the flimsy wood bending under the impact.
“Where is Amelia?” I ask, and this time my tone brooks no argument.
“What’s it to ya? Didn’t turn up for work and you’re firin’ her is that it?”
“No. Tell me where she is, if she isn’t here. She called in sick.”
“Course she did. She’s at the hospital.” My whole body freezes. “Her sister’s sick.”
Chapter 45
Amelia
Ididn’t think that my day could get much worse after Lucas dropped me off on Sunday night, but I was wrong.
Walking into the house, I try to ignore my parents' feral shouting as they lay into one another in front of the TV. My mom is screaming at my dad, and it’s so slurred that I can barely understand what she’s saying.
