“I don’t owe you anything.”
Not anymore.
“Just the house,” he smirks. “But you’re right. If Janie did one thing right, it was teaching you the importance of following through on a deal.”
“That isn’t what this is,” I grit out.
This is him doing what the Lincolns do, which is taking what isn’t theirs.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Janie made this deal long before that last one you paid off. The night we took our hands in marriage, she put this into motion and just like you’ve always done, you’re going to bring it the fuck home for her.” His eyes drop to my feet then settle back on my face. “It’s the only thing you’re good for, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re a bastard child to a narcissistic junkie.”
My bite holds the weight of a Malinois attacking an intruder. I want to walk right up to him and take everything he ever took from me and more. I want to see him wither under a force that’s bigger than the both of us.
But I’m deathly still, my feet glued to the pavement below me. My body shuts down as it watches him retreat back into his car. He starts the engine and smoke billows out from the exhaust pipe, leaving my car and me in the dust.
THIRTY-NINE
VIOLET
I lookup at the blinking pink sign that reads,WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE. Below it is a flier for Amateur Night at The Landing Strip, and unfortunately for me, the date on it just so happens to be today. I rub my arm uncomfortably, my body raging with a plethora of nerves as the piece of paper stares back at me.
The strip club we’re at is on a side of Harrison Heights I’ve never been to, but it seems to be one of the few places where business isn’t lackluster, the parking lot filled to the brim with who I assume are regulars.
“I told you I wasn’t up for one of your eccentric ideas,” I tell my sister. I can’t believe she did this—dragged me to the other side of the Sycamore River in order to fulfill one of her crazy bucket list items. This isnotwhat I need. I don’t need to be in the same stomping grounds as Colson.
Olive clicks her tongue and looks up at the paper. It’s taped to a blacked-out window next to the entrance. “Don’t be a prude. It’ll be fun and definitely get your mind off things. Besides, this was the closest strip club I could find. All the bars in Chatham Hills were too uptight for what you need.”
I look over my shoulder, nightfall draping over us as we stand outside. If it weren’t for me pumping the brakes on my sister’s weird ideas, we would be in there already. Gooseflesh breaks out over my arms. Partly because I left my jacket in the car, but also because I’m nervous to go inside.
This isn’t our town. Not that it belongs to anyone in particular, but it’s not our scene. I don’t know what the likelihood is that I’ll walk inside and find Colson, but the thought sends my thoughts spiraling. I don’t want to see him right now.
I also don’t know how shifty the guys inside might be. We’re two young, pretty girls. The last thing I need are guys barking up our trees because there are a bunch of gorgeous half-naked women grinding on poles in front of them.
“Where did you find this place, anyway?” I’m curious to know if she planned this—getting us to the other side of the river—or if it was an honest mistake.
“I Googled strip clubs in the area.”
“The…” I glance up at the bright yet incognito sign at the top of the establishment. “Landing Stripis nowhere nearin the areaof Spring Meadows,” I muse, dropping my gaze and mulling over the big block letters on the glossy paper again. “I think we should go to Lucy’s. We can drink without worrying about being so far from the apartment.”
“Why would we do that when we’re already here?” She loops her arm through mine. “I’ve never been this far north. You know Mom and Dad basically banned us from ever crossing the Sycamore Memorial Bridge. I want to see what all the hype is about. Why you fell for a dimwit from around here and if it’s worth giving him a second chance or writing him off for good.”
My face scrunches. “How is hitting up a strip club on Amateur Night going to tell you that?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but I have a good feeling about it.”
I press the back of my hand to her forehead. “Are you feeling ill? Because nothing good is going to come from this.”
She swats my hand away. “I’m fine, thank you very fucking much. I’d be better if you dug your heels out of the pavement and followed me inside.”
“Olive.” It comes out as an annoying whine.
“No. We’re getting you out of your head. You promised you’d trust me.”
“That was before you had me driving down the 401 in the exact direction I didn’t want to go.”
The door to The Landing Strip flies open, a drunk couple hanging onto each other as they stumble their way out. They’re all giggles and heart eyes as the guy whoops and lifts his hand into the air for some unknown reason. They only get to the first car in the parking lot before she shoves him against it and pulls something out of her pocket that’s hidden by her body.
Olive gives me a look and lowers her voice. “See. They’re having the time of their lives. Ready or not, here we come.”
