“No,” I answered, careful not to say more than necessary. The last thing I needed was to tell him something that would give him a reason to send me back—or leave me behind. He was my best chance at staying gone.
I caught the smirk at the corner of his mouth as he lit the cigarette, taking a slow drag before exhaling. Even if I hadn’t seen it, I could hear it in his voice.
“‘Jack,’ you’re feminine enough to get whatever you want. As long as you can get past whatever godly morals you’re clinging to, you won’t have any problem with the kind of crowd we’ll be around.”
There was sarcasm in the way he used my alias. I didn’t bother correcting him—we both knew it wasn’t real. But I wasn’t ready to give him the truth either.
“Are you implying I need to seduce drunk men?”
The cigarette burned between his fingers. Of course he had to have a vice. One that made me hold my breath.
“I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m saying you could—and you’d come out on top.” He paused. “You’re young. Or at least you look it. You’re naturally pretty, and you carry yourself well. You were taught to be pleasant.”
He had picked up on more than I realized. Heat crept into my face as I dropped my gaze from his to the cracked pavement beneath my feet.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “I’m almost nineteen.”
He considered that, forcing a small, tight smile.
“About what I figured.”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Twenty-one.”
He slipped the cigarette back between his lips, his gaze drifting out across the parking lot as the ember glowed.
It was strange, but sharing that felt… normal. Like we were connecting. Something I hadn’t expected hours earlier.
I returned his smile, but inside, my thoughts drifted back to Reed—turning twenty this fall. The comparison made my stomach twist. At least they didn’t look alike. Not even close.
Reed was polished and proper.
Erich was rough around the edges—like he wore the same pair of jeans for as long as he could get away with.
We didn’t have much else to say while Erich finished his cigarette. He dropped it to the ground and snuffed it out with the bottom of his boot, and we went into the grocery store together. Inside, we found one cashier reading a magazine from three months ago, an elderly customer examining beans as if his choice would determine life or death, and a young woman who was stressed and frantic as she tossed random items into her cart while her baby screamed from the car seat clipped to the front. It wasn’t peaceful or enjoyable, but this must have been what normal people expected when they got their groceries. The thought soothed me.
Our hunger led us to a small bakery in the back of the store, and we decided on donuts. I chose one with vanilla frosting and sprinkles, mostly because it was pretty against the white. Erich went with a cinnamon roll. There was no line, so we were back outside quickly—no questions, no comments, not even a second glance from anyone inside.
Instinctively, I wanted to thank him, but I knew he wouldn’t have much of a response, if any. Instead, we sat against the white brick wall of the store. Loitering, but no one was around to scold us.
I took a small bite of my donut and realized I hadn’t had anything like it in years. It tasted incredible—like the childhood thrill of candy, but better because it felt like something I was allowed to have.
I quickly found myself wolfing it down, trying not to be obvious about it. I was fully aware I wasn’t alone.
Erich, being that someone, didn’t seem to mind. He was just as quick with his cinnamon roll. We ate in silence, and for the first time since meeting him, I welcomed it.
He wiped the frosting from his fingers onto his jeans. That was strike two for disgusting habits.
“It would be easy for you to get whatever you wanted from half the sleazebags I have in mind.”
I choked back a surprised laugh. “Sleazebags? Are you going to pimp me out to drunks?”
There was that smirk again. I couldn’t tell if it was at my comment or his own phrasing.
“I’m just giving you ideas,” he said. “If this is what you want to do—and you have nowhere else to go—you’ll need to learn how it works.”
I considered that, oddly flattered. I pictured myself in a long red gown with a slit up the side, makeup flawless, silk gloves on my hands as I laughed politely at a mediocre joke from a middle-aged man in a suit.
