Page 52 of Darkest Obsession

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: dead meat

You didn’t listen, baby.

Now she’s going to pay.

Leave £500 in an envelope on the whispering bench.

Or else I’ll cut her deep.

xo spicy

“Who is this talking about?” Clover asks.

“Dunno.”

“You couldn’t have sent it to yourself,” she answers.

She gives me an apologetic expression for stating the obvious.

“It’s probably a dumb prank,” I tell her.

“Are you going to leave the money?”

“Whispering bench?”

“It’s the semi-circular stone bench overlooking the soccer fields.”

Soccer. She draws out all the vowels in such an American way. It’s too fucking hard not to get distracted by her accent.

“Don’t see the point.”

“She’s going to pay? Do you have like a secret girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Could it be Sylvia?”

“Maybe it’s you. Since Spicy’s also blackmailing you?”

She snorts. “You definitely don’t care enough to pay £500 to save me. I’ll give you the money. You can leave it on the bench.”

“You’ve got £500 lying around?”

Clover’s eyes narrow. “Not lying around. But yes, I have it.”

“I thought most African Americans were impoverished.”

Clover’s nostrils flare so wide, I half-expect her brains to spill out. Have I said something wrong?

“How dare you,” she hisses. “And you know what? You’re not even allowed to be here.”

I shrug and walk over to her roommate’s bed, leaning against it. Clover’s eyes get so wide, I realize that her eyes aren’t as dark brown as I thought. They’re a little bit sorrel in color.

“Don’t lean on her bed!”