Thirty grand.
It’s a horrendous amount of money but he doesn’t seem to care about the price. He’s so calm, I check, “And you’d pay for that? For him?”
“Sure. If that’s what you want.”
The temptation is so strong, it feels like a physical object I could grab with both hands.
A few hours.
The most terrifying thing you’ve ever done.
Yes, but only for a few hours. Ant might get clean forlife.
“Can I think about it?”
Maddox stills and I think he’ll issue an ultimatum, then he gives a small nod. “Do you have your phone? We can swap numbers.”
I reach into my jacket pocket before remembering. “Oh, sorry. I… uh, I lost it tonight.”
His eyes sharpen, then turn dull as he taps a finger on the back of my hand, already turning towards the door.
“Don’t worry. I understand a no when I hear one.”
Say, yes. Tell him yes before your only chance walks out the door.
But my pulse races, my heart thumping with such force that my eyes jump with each new beat. Fear consumes me. I can’t call out his name. Can’t move to block him.
He opens the door and walks into the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
MADDOX
When I wakethe following morning, my skin buzzes with excitement, providing me with flashbacks from the night before. The touch of Evie’s soft skin beneath my hand. The glances of interest.
Her horror as I revealed myself as a freak.
I groan and drag myself into the bathroom, taking a quick shower because it’s only been a few hours since the one last night. The outfit I tossed in the laundry hamper smells of dirt and oil and smoke, and I leave the window open to air out the room.
In the kitchen, I’m waiting on the coffee machine when my father walks in, impeccably dressed as always. “Didn’t hear you come in last night.”
“I went out with Zane and lost track.”
“Next time, save the late nights for the weekends. I don’t like you losing that much sleep on a school night.”
After that one question, he loses interest, not a talker at the best of times. The machine beeps and when I add milk to my coffee, it drags Evie back into my head.
No fridge. Bare cupboards.
It’s crazy to think of someone my age living like that.
Grinding her arse into your father’s lap for tips.
My lips curl back from my teeth in disgust, and I edge past my dad to take a barstool at the counter, setting my phone in front of me so he won’t make conversation.
It opens on a photo of Evie, one from the school portal, then I click on my search results from last night, picking up the few threads I found online.
She barely has a presence there. Unlike every other girl I know, she isn’t filling pages with endless selfies. The content she does have is monetised. I sign up for a free plan on herPrivate Sessionsaccount and scroll through the padlocked listings, reading the descriptions, curious about the shots she’s posting for pay.
