He scoffs. “I don’t see why not. Just over a hundred grand. It’s the line I draw with all my clients.”
Clients. He says the word as if he’s a legitimate businessman like Cyrus.
Cyrus. My head is reeling. He owes this guy a hundred thousand dollars.
My mouth goes dry, shock and sadness replaced with fear.Amelia. Oh, my God. Are we in danger?
“I… I have to go.”
“You haven’t gotten your order.”
I begin to back away.
He follows closely. “Kenna, it’s okay. I’m not a mafia boss. I’m not going to break his legs or anything, that’s not my MO.”
“But what if he doesn’t pay?”
He shrugs. “Eventually, I’ll sell the debt to a third party.”
I swallow hard. “And what will this third party do to collect?”
He shakes his head and gives me a wry smile. “That’s not my business.” Then he turns serious, studying me. “How long have you been married?”
“Eight months.”
“Kids?”
“Not one that’s his.”
He shakes his head again, this time with no hint of humor or insinuation. “Can I give you a piece of advice?” When I don’t answer, he continues, “I’d take your kid and get as far away from him as you can. Because I can’t guarantee what will or won’t happen once I sell his debt.”
My heart races. “And just how long will that be?”
“I just gave him six months.”
My legs barely able to hold me up, I walk to a nearby booth and sit before I fall. Luke slides in across from me.
“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you all this, but like I said, you seem like a nice girl and you deserve to know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
Tears collect in my eyes. I hold out the three dollars in change I got back from my order. “See this? This is all I have to my name until my next paycheck comes through on Friday. I have a daughter. I don’t… I can’t…”
He nods in understanding. “He keeps your finances separate. Typical.”
Luke’s name gets called by the lady at the counter.
He points to the table. “Stay here, okay?”
I nod, because honestly, I have no idea what else I can do. Go upstairs and confront Cyrus? Pretend nothing happened? Leave now, get Amelia from day care, pack our things, and go… where?
Returning to the table, he sets his order aside. He’s starting to look a bit uncomfortable now. Like he’s made a grave error in telling me all that. Like he somehow feels responsible for me now that he’s pulled me into the fold.
“Do you have a friend you can stay with?” he asks.
Closing my eyes, I cycle through my very short list of friends, most of whom I let slip away after I got married. Would any of them take in a former friend and her rambunctious toddler?
This isn’t happening. It can’t be. “Listen, Cyrus is a lawyer, I’m sure he can get you the money.”
“Don’t you think he would have if he could?” He gestures up. “You want to know what he’s doing right now? He’s looking for another bookie. Mark my words. It’s what they all do. He’s like a drug addict who just lost his pusher.”
