His debt had been ten times that in Auckland. It might sound small, but it soon compounds. The interest rate he agreed to added another grand every second week.
Lachlan grins at his colleague, shaking his head. “You think my dad sent me out to collect a thousand-dollar debt?”
“I don’t know.” Perhaps a phrase that would have gone overbetter if I’d started with it. “We can get you your money, I promise. I started a new job last week. I can transfer every paycheque straight to you.”
“How generous of you,” he drawls, keeping his face expressionless, so I have no idea if he’s agreeing or laughing at me. “What’s your new job? Executive of a fortune five hundred company? CEO of a bank.”
“I’m washing dishes, but I’ll take as many—”
“You think dish pig wages are going to buy you out of this debt?” Lachlan tucks the ring box into his jeans pocket and puts his palms flat on the table, leaning over towards me until his face fills my entire view. “Your dad owes us thirty grand, principal.”
The horror of that high number grips me and I cast a blame-filled glance at my father. It goes to waste. His head is bowed, so he doesn’t need to look at me. The shame creeps in red stains from the neck of his shirt to the tips of his ears.
“Want to hazard a guess at the amount of interest he’s chalking up?”
I shake my head, biting at my lower lip and wiping at my cheeks where the flush of colour is so intense it makes it itchy.
I don’t want to know anything unless it’s that this is an elaborate joke and a moment from now, someone’s going to reveal a hidden camera operator and yell surprise.
A phone rings, making my body twitch. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stop the useless tears that want to fall as though their tiny trails could wash this mess away. I’ve always been a crier. Always hated it.
“This better be a different answer than last time,” Lachlan growls into the mic, turning his shoulder towards the table as a belated measure of privacy. “There’s only two hours until the party starts.”
I grip the edge of the table in my hands, watching the expressionof anger play out across his features. Wondering just how much pain the girl on the other end of the phone is adding to our current sentence.
My legs are crying from being held so tense. My scalp wriggles like worms are burrowing deep into my skin, the aftermath of where he pulled me by my hair.
I shoot him a wary glance, then catch my breath when his penetrating gaze locks on mine, staring straight into my tear-filled eyes. Slowly, slowly, his eyes rove over my face, my chest, my straining fingers. He stares so intently, it feels like he’s cataloguing me, totting up an appraisal.
His stern expression morphs into a grin, sinister, predatory; a smile that makes my jaw clench and my stomach flutter with nerves before he barks out, “What size are you?” One ear remains pressed to his phone, though nothing on his face suggests he’s listening to the call. His entire focus is on me.
“C-clothing size?” I clarify, shooting a concerned glance at the companion before remembering why I’d looked away from him the first time. I mutter the answer, still not sure if that’s what he’s asking.
“Fuck off, Kari. I’m sorted,” he says, snapping his phone shut and shoving the folded device into his pocket with my mother’s rings. “It’s your lucky day, whatever-your-name-is.” He checks his watch and raises his eyebrows at his companion before glancing back at me. “Get up. We’ve got a date.”
“No!” my father yells, trying to get to his feet before the sewer rat kicks his legs out from underneath him. A knife appears in the collector’s hand, and he licks the blade, staring intently at my dad as he flinches away.
I can barely breathe, shrinking into my chair. “Oh, I-I—”
Lachlan spins to fully face me, grabbing my upper arm and hauling me forward. “You, what? You have something better todo this evening? Planned to spend the next few hours washing your hair?”
I try to catch my father’s eye, but Lachlan doesn’t wait for an answer to his faux questions. He pushes me ahead of him, out of the kitchen, along the matted carpet of the narrow hallway, shoving me aside to pull open the door, then clutching my arm even tighter as he guides me outside, letting it slam behind him.
“There’s a party,” he says as though that’s sufficient explanation. “You’re my date. If you get a minute spare, test out a smile to wear. Everything else’ll be provided.”
My heart beats so hard it feels like it’s trying to punch its way out of my chest. He lets go of me to open the passenger side door of his car, moving around to the driver’s side without glancing to see if I obey the unspoken command.
Never get into a car with an assailant. That’s what someone on a long-ago talk show taught me. Never let an aggressor take you to a second location. Never let them pick a spot because it exponentially increases the likelihood that’ll be your burial ground.
They were less detailed on how to avoid it. “What’s happening to my dad?”
Lachlan’s response is a long time coming. His fingers drum an offbeat rhythm on the steering wheel before he adjusts the rear-view mirror to his liking.
“You can get in the car, do what I say, and at the end of the night, you’ll still have a father to come home to.” His hazel eyes gleam almost golden in the late afternoon sun as he turns to me. “Or you can go back inside and take your chances.” The predatory grin reappears. “I think my friend took a shine to you. I’m sure you can work something out.”
A shudder of revulsion grips me, and my hand shoots out to grip the edge of the open door, glancing back at theflat. We’ve only been in there for three months, struggling the entire time. I hadn’t minded because we were building something better. Something more stable.
My face flushes with colour, cheeks so hot it’s like someone’s shovelling coal into them.
