“Who the hell are you?” Mickey’s mom, based on the stained “Mom” shirt she’s wearing. I watch with wide eyes as she hacks up a loogie and spits it to the side where there’s a wet spot already filled with snot. His dad doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge that the door was opened or that there’s anything different. His dead eyes never leave the screen.
What the fuck is happening?
Instead of answering the question, I close the door quickly and keep moving. There’s another door right there. Turning the knob easily, I push the door open. It’s insanely clean, like a breath of fresh air–literally. The wood on the desk shines in the broken light from the window. A queen-sized bed perfectly made, vacuum lines on the carpet, a whole computer set up that’s free of dust completely.
“Get the fuck out of my room!” Mickey roars, stomping over to me and shoving me back into the doorframe. “Get out of my house while you’re at it.”
“Where’s Roxie’s things?” I snarl.
“You think I kept any of that?” He laughs sinisterly. “I got rid of all that shit the moment I saw it was you that took her that night. She wants you to play knight-in-shining-armor and run away from her responsibilities,her debts? Then I took what she left as payment for her indiscretions."
Asher steps forward, but he’s too late. My hands dart out, pushing Mickey hard into the wall and grabbing his shirt. His head snaps back, smacking against the wall hard enough it leaves a dent in the drywall, and I drag him back up.
“I’m not going to ask again, Mickey.” My jaw clenches as I grind my teeth in frustration and the restraint it’s requiring of me tonothit him. “Where is her stuff?”
He says nothing, but his eyes dart to the side quickly before he realizes that he slipped.
“Asher,” I say calmly, dropping my hands and turning my back on him, “watch him while I search his room.”
“Don’t you fucking dare, Hernandez!” Mickey’s face turns red with frustration, but I step back with a cocky smirk. I know how to hurt himandnot betray Roxie’s trust.
“Shut the hell up.” Asher smacks him on the back of the head, grabbing both of his arms and twisting them behind his back. Mickey doesn’t cry out, but his face scrunches up in pain so I know Asher isn’t holding back.
“You keep a clean room, Frank. You keep a clean room, but let the rest of the house be a shithole?” Walking deeper into his room, I take in all the meticulously cared for surfaces. “Do you have some aversion to dirt? Interesting, since every single inch of the other areas is filthy. Barely livable.”
“Well, I don’t live out there, do I?” He mutters, one side of his lip curling up in a snarl.
I turn on my heel and look at him. “But you made her?”
“She had a spot.” Mickey shrugs, but Asher tightens his hold and Mickey hisses.
“Ah,” I say darkly, my eyebrows raising and I tilt my head to the side. “You hear that Asher? She had aspot.” I cross my arms over my chest and my eyes narrow at Mickey. “Where was it?”
“Yeah, Mick. Where was it?” Asher asks tauntingly.
“I took it down. You said it yourself, she’s not coming back here. I didn’t need to keep a space for her any longer.” Mickey tries to sound confident, but I see the fear in his eyes. He’s trapped, on his own turf, and he knows it.
My nostrils flare as I inhale sharply and my fists curl against my biceps.
“You got rid of her space. Got it. Now see, I know you’re a selfish, greedy, manipulating,rapistson of a bitch, so I’m willing to bet that you kept her things. You needed trophies, didn’t you?”
I know I’m right when his eyes tighten and his mouth presses into a thin line.
“Asher, if you were a sickfreakwhere would you hide your grossness?” I say the words toward Asher, but my eyes never leave Mickey’s. He’s smart and patient, but he doesn’t have much of a poker face.
“I don’t know, I’m not a fucking rapist pig,” Asher snaps by Mickey’s head, pulling his arms up so Mickey’s rotator cuff pulls. “But just look at his room. It’s incredibly clean, but there’s one drawer open. I don't think it’s much of a coincidence.”
Right as Asher mentions the drawer, Mickey’s jaw muscle clenches.
That’s it. Just one small tell that he lets slip.
I don’t answer, don’t grin. I just turn and walk deeper into his room, pulling at the slightly ajar drawer.
“I’m going to kill you,” Mickey says roughly. “It won’t be today, not tomorrow, but I’m going to kill you. And I’ll make that bitch watch before I kill her too.”
I keep opening the drawer as he spews his tainted venom and just like I thought; there’s Roxie’s sketchbook with a few papers sticking out, right next to a roll of cash. Her money. And under it?
I tighten my fists, my jaw clenching in anger, my chest rising and falling quickly as I try to steady my breathing.
