What the frick?
Razor always tells me when he’s going to the store. He always asks if there’s anything certain I want and accepts the cash I give him.
Confused, I leave the note on the table while getting down. “Let me go get my money so I can pitch in.”
Taking a drag, Aries shakes her head, trying to stop me with a wave of her hand, but I’m already on a mission to my room. I would rather starve than eat someone else’s food they worked hard for. Ihaveto contribute what I can or I’ll get sick.
Ora’s still asleep, so I quietly sneak in through the door and get down on my knees next to my bed, reaching under and pulling out the old shoe box I store my money in.
Razor got me those chunky sneakers for my “birthday” last year, and the box became my favorite place to store things personal to me.
Flipping open the loose lid, my weight sinks my butt through the gap of my bent legs, my vision narrowing. Not seeing my folded money on top, where IknowI left it, my bugging heart operates my arm, violently rifling through birthday cards, Coca-Cola tabs, and dead flower petals.
But all my money is gone.
It’s all gone.
Don’t panic, don’t panic. Don’t lash out. It’s okay. Just breathe.
Sucking in air until my lungs fully expand, I slowly let it out through my lips, closing my eyes and calming the extra heat ripping open my skin.
After Razor and I had sex in my bed, he counted the cash in front of me and handed me my cut. I remember folding it neatly and placing it in my box with a stupid smile while he gave everyone else their envelopes. And then I tucked it back underneath my bed and talked to him until I fell asleep. That was all I had, the grand I made from performing in the Globe plus the two hundred bucks I was trying to save up.
So, where the hell is it?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
RAZOR
You always do that, just pop out of nowhere and say nothing. You’re weird. It’s startling. But I guess it’s fine. You’re part of thefreak show. Just try not to clip my heels or step on my toes. I have on my slick Converse today.
Nacho cheese smacks me across the face, entering the open doors that let out the chaotic mixed sounds of people beating the fuck out of games. I’m looking for someone. That’s the only reason I came in here. But the Photo Booth sitting off to the right side of the entrance is some taunting, sick joke.
I try to walk past. You see me. You’re breathing on my damn neck. But retaliation is burning a hole in my chest, putting me in a rigid halt.
So, that’s where you thought you could kiss someone else and get away with it.
My mind’s a palace of evil, conjuring up aggravating ghosts of the two of them giggling and going in together, then coming back out with a wicked secret pulling at their lips.
“Let’s run away together.”
“I love you.”
“She’s going-”
Dragging in a hateful breath, my eyes close to safety and I cover my right ear.
“Razor?”
The nasally sound of a stuffed nose pries my eyes open.
Already working on his winnings for the day, the little squirt I came to see has a fist closed around a neatly folded strip of tickets, his other hand holding an ICEE, the straw angled right at the red stain in the center of his chapped lips.
“Hey, man, just who I wanted to see.” I smile, offering my hand out to him.
Shoving his tickets in his pocket, he accepts my hand, smiling around his braces and taking control of the shake. “Haven’t seen you in here in a while.”
I can’t fucking remember his name. He said it once when Xene, Cash, and I came in drunk and played laser tag with him.
