Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  “Let me get that for you,” Jason says, and reaches for the duffel’s strap.

  “No.” Our host’s eyes are deadly serious. “Keep your hands on the table, pal.”

  I slide the strap off my shoulder and hold out the bag.

  “Unzip the main compartment slowly. Then toss it onto the middle of the table.”

  When I do, the man leans over, grabs it, pulls it to him. He shakes it upside down. The metallic gold fabric gleams in the light.

  First the oversized towel, then the pink hoodie, then three stacks of crisp bills tumble out, and I’m glad I tucked the wallet and pills safely into the inner pocket.

  Jason exhales softly beside me. He’s gotta be wondering where the rest of the money is. I wish I could look at him, could revel in his shock at having been duped by a “stupid whore.”

  Not that I remember Toby’s insult verbatim or anything.

  “Thirty thousand bucks,” our host says. “I heard you talking about millions.”

  Neither one of us replies.

  The man gives Jason a long, scrutinizing look. After a second, I do the same.

  Jason’s got a nice profile. There’s a small bump in his nose, but you have to be really staring to see it. A couple of faint scars under his left eye. Sideburns. His stubble is noticeably heavier than when we met. Hard to believe that was only this afternoon.

  A random thought pops into my head: the hair on my legs has been growing, too. My lower body was smooth when I set out to meet Toby. I’d been told that would make it easier to get hired.

  Too bad I hadn’t shown up looking like shit. Toby would have said no, I’d have gone home, and I’d be watching TV right now. Or crying about my financial situation and upcoming disfigurement.

  “Stand, honey,” the man says. “I wanna make sure you’re not holding out on me.”

  “That’s all of it. I swear.” But of course he wasn’t making a request, so I slowly get to my feet. I stand like a starfish, legs and arms out.

  “Face the other way.”

  I turn around. I’m looking down but to the side, and that’s how I catch it—Jason, staring at my ass.

  He looks away.

  I remember briefly feeling his erection when we were fighting outside. He tried to keep our bodies apart. This is different.

  Or is it?

  Maybe he was simply wondering if I stashed the rest of the cash between my butt cheeks. Assuming this man lets us go, I’m going to swear up and down that thirty grand is all I found.

  There’s only a one-in-a-million chance that Jason will believe it. Maybe I should say a one-in-three-million chance.

  “I’m not gonna steal your money,” the man says, “but I’ll be taking a tax. We’ll call it a toll for safe passage across my property. You can turn around, doll.”

  Then he looks at me, and there’s a lascivious light in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle but recognizable; any female who’s hit puberty would know it.

  “Now, if there’s something else you’d like to trade for safe passage, maybe we can hammer out a deal.” His words are impossible to misinterpret even before his eyes crawl over my breasts.

  I swallow hard.

  “Half the money,” Jason says. “You keep half, we take half.”

  Chapter 9

  The farmer stared hard at Jason.

  If not for that gun pointed at him, Jason would have knocked the guy out. Wouldn’t have even needed to go for his own gun. One punch to the side of the head, and the farmer would never get up again. Jason knew; he’d done it before.

  But the fucker did have a gun, and that changed the equation.

  “I’ll let you keep half the money,” Jason said. “And then we’ll walk away. But if you lay a hand on her, you’ll have to kill me. After you kill me, you’ll have to dispose of my body. When the police investigate the whereabouts of my cell phone on the day I went missing, they’ll see that I spent quite a bit of time right here, on your property. How good are you at removing forensic evidence? You’d have to kill her, too. My pregnant wife. That’s a lot of hassle. Why risk it? If we all agree, you’ll be fifteen grand over where you started the evening.”

  The asshole laughed.

  An unspoken conversation passed between them, man to man. Did Jason mean what he’d threatened?

  Yes, Jason sure as fuck did.

  But otherwise were the trespassers willing to leave without their money and not make a fuss?

  “You have my word,” Jason said. “Take half, but leave us half, and we’ll go. You’ll never hear from us again.”

  The asshole took his time reaching a decision, but Jason already knew what it would be. This guy had undeniably been in the armed forces, and he’d clearly seen some shit. He knew about death, but he’d carved out his slice of peace and quiet, and he wouldn’t want to endanger it.

  “Fine,” the man said. “Honey, divide up the money.”

  “Um…” DeeAnn laughed nervously. She was still standing. “There are three of us, so I think ten grand each is more fair. Four of us, really, when you think about my baby. But three ways is fine.”

  “Two ways is fine,” Jason said. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed lightly, hoping she’d take his unspoken advice and shut the hell up.

  Remarkably, she did.

  She counted, touching the money like it was delicate and deadly, and also like it might just evaporate. Like she’d never seen so much currency in her life.

  She wasn’t fooling Jason. If she’d found only three stacks of bills, she wouldn’t have needed to dump her sandals or her book to make room in the duffel.

  Once they were outside, he’d figure out how to handle her. For the moment, his priority was to get away from the immediate threat.

  DeeAnn finished her two piles: two bundles of bills, plus one bundle split in half. “I counted it twice,” she said.

  “And now you’ll count it a third time, aloud.”

  She licked her thumb and counted fifty bills.

  “Good. Take your money and get the hell out of here.”

  “Actually, could I have a glass of water?”

  Jason almost groaned, but to his surprise, the asshole said, “Plastic bottles are in the fridge. Take two to go.”

  DeeAnn grabbed the two bottles, shoved them and the money into her bag, and then said, “Ready to head home, honey?”

  She was now heading for the door. Probably thought she’d get out before him, then take off in the dark. But Jason was already on his feet.

  “Hey,” the asshole said. “Treat your wife well. She’s your partner in this world, and if you ever lose her, you’ll regret it.”

  She’s a prostitute, Jason wanted to say. Not because prostitutes couldn’t make lovely girlfriends or whatever, but just to shock the guy.

  DeeAnn had taken off across the grass.

  Jason jumped off the porch and sprinted after her. She was surprisingly fast, but his legs were longer, and being in shape was part of his job; slow criminals got killed or caught.

  He paced her for a few steps, and now they were in the night again, painted in moonlight. DeeAnn was breathing hard.

  Running for her life on her banged-up feet.

  It seemed cruel to stretch it out too long, and she was liable to step in a rabbit hole and break her fool neck.

  Jason could have taken her down easy, but he wanted to make a point, so he tackled her. They hit the ground together, both grunting.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want a divorce,” he said as he flipped them both onto their backs.

  DeeAnn didn’t answer, just panted, wheezy noises coming from her throat.

  Her skin was hot. At first he thought it was because she felt good in his arms. Nothing like staring into a gun to make a man appreciate life.

  But then he realized she really was physically hot. Overheating.

  Jason rolled away. She wasn’t going anywhere, and if she did, he’d just catch her again.

  Her b
ag had gone flying when he grabbed her. He snagged the strap and tugged it closer.

  “You’re dehydrated,” he said, pulling out a bottle of water. “Drink.”

  DeeAnn grabbed the water, like… well, like a woman dying of thirst. Her hands shook badly and her fingers fumbled with the lid.

  He cracked the seal of the second bottle and traded with her.

  “Thanks,” she croaked.

  He opened his bottle and took a few swigs.

  She gulped down her water, then groaned and clutched her stomach.

  “You’ll have cramps from drinking too fast,” Jason said. “They’ll go away.” Even though he was thirsty, he limited himself to one more swallow, then gave DeeAnn the rest.

  She drank it slower this time but still emptied every drop.

  Finally, she sighed. “I shouldn’t have run away from you.”

  “No,” he said, surprised she was voluntarily admitting her mistake. “You should not have.”

  “It’s just that I need that money.”

  “Why?”

  She crunched up the empty water bottle. The sounds of cracking plastic drowned out her words.

  He nudged her arm. “I didn’t catch that. Say it again.”

  “I’ve got bills.”

  “We all got bills,” he drawled.

  “Funeral,” DeeAnn said. “My dad fell sick unexpectedly.”

  The wind ruffled his hair. Jason thought of his sister. Her funeral had been extravagant. He’d never wondered how much it had cost.

  “Dad left a good job on an offshore oil rig when my mom died. I was a baby. I’m not saying he was the perfect father, but he was there for me. That means something.”

  “Sure,” Jason said quietly, thinking of how his parents had shriveled up and blown away after Katie’s death.

  “Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer about eight months ago. It came out of nowhere. I mean, he smoked sometimes, but he wasn’t even forty-five. He thought he had a bad cold. Then pneumonia. By the time he went to the hospital, it was too late.” Her voice had turned dull, wooden, like she was reciting facts, but Jason could sense frustration and regret. He wondered if she’d nagged her father about seeing a doctor sooner.

  “Sorry. Cancer’s a bitch.” The words were hollow, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to hear about regret or grief. He wished DeeAnn would reach the end of the story so he could get his money and leave.

  “Yeah.” She rubbed at her elbow. “Dad couldn’t afford a nurse, so I quit the call center and moved into the house he was sharing with a few other guys. It was like a frat house for men in their forties and fifties. After he passed, I wanted him to have a worthy burial.” Her voice was so tense, she was probably damaging her vocal cords.

  “Funerals are expensive,” Jason said.

  “You’ve lost someone close to you?”

  He thought of Katie and let his gaze fix on the dark horizon. “No. Sometimes my, uh, associates die on the job, and it’s common courtesy to cover those expenses. For their families. Did you put it on a credit card?”

  Even though he couldn’t see or hear her shaking her head, he could sense it.

  “My credit card limit is a joke, and anyway it was maxed out from groceries and co-pays. The funeral home offered a payment plan, but I only qualified for a quarter of the amount. I promised that my sister would pay the balance when she came to town for the funeral.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t have a sister,” DeeAnn said with a dry laugh. “The funeral was the last thing I could do for my father. He was my only family. I’m not saying I made intelligent choices, but honestly, I was having a mental breakdown. And I don’t regret it.”

  Jason ached to point out that those expenses were a fraction of the money she’d stolen, but her distress seemed genuine, and he’d never seen the point of kicking someone when they were down. Unless it was an enemy. Those, he would happily stomp all over.

  “Hey,” he said, uncomfortable with DeeAnn’s raw emotion. “If you go back to the funeral home and explain—”

  “Maybe I should have. But I didn’t. They… They were kind. They were looking out for me when they said I couldn’t afford all the things I wanted. Anyway, I paid them. Now I have to pay the people I borrowed the rest of the money from.”

  Jason didn’t prod her for more.

  No one knew better than he did how easy it was to borrow money, provided you didn’t mind certain business partners.

  “Did the same person who sent you to Toby lend you the money?”

  “No,” DeeAnn said, sounding surprised. “Well, she set it up.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know her real name. Someone Dad used to know. Everyone calls her Auntie Love.”

  Jason whistled. Auntie Love was an iron-jawed, flinty-eyed entrepreneur. If DeeAnn’s father had known her, the guy had likely been using drugs. Auntie Love had looked at DeeAnn and seen a beautiful, grieving woman. And she’d seen profit.

  DeeAnn probably hadn’t figured it out, but going to work for Toby hadn’t been optional. Her fate had been sealed the day she accepted that illegal loan.

  But that wasn’t Jason’s business, and it wasn’t his problem.

  “I’m sorry for your troubles, DeeAnn. I really am. But I can’t let you keep the money.”

  Tension thickened the air.

  Jason thought about how to get DeeAnn to reveal what she’d done with the money. He could order her, and maybe she’d comply. People tended to respond to authority, especially when they were emotional. Or he could be nice, soften her up, then convince her that complying was in her best interests, which it was.

  He’d be nice first, then rampage if necessary. The reverse order wouldn’t work—

  He had DeeAnn, right? And he wasn’t going to lose her.

  That was almost as good as having the money.

  And if she won’t talk?

  The thought vanished.

  She would talk.

  Chapter 10

  I don’t know how to make Jason go away.

  “You win,” I say.

  He smirks knowingly. “Are you ready to go?”

  Go where? But I’m afraid to ask.

  He answers my unspoken question. “We’re in trouble. Both of us. I don’t like being lied to, and I don’t see the point of sitting here and arguing. I suggest we get a couple slices of pizza and talk about what we’re going to do next.”

  My mouth begins to water, and I can taste the tomato sauce and melted cheese. Usually, I ditch the crusts, but that’s the part I’m most excited about right now. Doughy and oily and salty.

  God, I really want salt. I crave it like I’ve never craved anything before. My mouth aches for it.

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “You’re taking the money, so take it. Why do you care what happens to me?”

  “You weren’t listening. We’re both in trouble.”

  “How can I be in trouble? I wasn’t supposed to be at your shootout, and no one knows who I am.”

  “I’m sure there’s no security footage at E-Z Cash. I bet Glinda didn’t even look at you before calling Toby and telling him to swing by.”

  Jason’s tone is so condescending. So smug.

  A few minutes ago, he was almost being nice, but now he’s turned back into Jason the Jerk.

  “There may be footage,” I say, “but I look like a lot of people. And usually I don’t wear makeup or dress like a ‘stupid whore.’”

  He exhales hard. “Do you really think you’ll be difficult to find? Your fingerprints are in the truck, genius.”

  “Name calling and sarcasm? Real mature. And my fingerprints aren’t in any database. It’s a hard concept for you to understand, but not everyone has a criminal record.”

  This doesn’t shut him up for even a second.

  “The loan sharks sent you to Toby.”

  “Yeah, three weeks ago.”

  “Three weeks? And here I thought you were despera
te for money.”

  No way am I gonna tell him about all the times I tried to make myself walk through the doors at E-Z Cash. Or about the man who broke into my room two days ago.

  “Well,” Jason says, “you obviously covered your bases. Props for that. But I think you’re overestimating how clever you are.”

  “No,” I say, irked. “If anything, I’m underestimating how shit-brained you criminals are.”

  “If anything?” The way he says it, I think he might drop the politeness charade. But he doesn’t. “Well, I guess we have nothing to offer each other, so I’ll take the fifteen grand and be on my way.”

  “Good luck and have a nice life,” I say, and when I do, my heart begins to pound fast. Can it really be this easy? Clouds drift away from the moon, illuminating Jason’s face.

  “No crying. It’s only goodbye for now,” he says with a lazy smile. “You’ll be seeing me again soon. See, after I leave here, I’m gonna visit Toby in the hospital.”

  “Nice. Give him flowers from me.”

  “He’ll like that. He’s only got a couple of scratches, nothing that will affect his memory. Toby, funny thing. He’s got an excellent memory and is especially good at describing people. Especially chicks he planned to fuck.”

  That’s so gross that I’m speechless. Jason’s smile spreads.

  “After I visit Toby, I’ll have a chat with AJ. That’s my boss.”

  “Good for him. Time to leave, Jason.”

  “AJ’s not a nice man,” he continues calmly. “You’re a witness, so he’ll want you killed.”

  I gasp. “I didn’t see anything!”

  “Honey, there are four dead men in that building, and they didn’t kill each other. Perhaps you could identify the man who shot them?”

  “Don’t involve me!”

  “You’re right,” he says as he stands. “You already know everything. So unless you have a bunch more money for me…”

  “Wait. What about that pizza?” Because I don’t have any other choice.

  Jason collects a backpack hidden in the bushes and sets off down the long driveway.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes the cell phone from his back pocket and opens a ride-sharing app. Twenty minutes later, we’re in the back of a sedan, which eventually deposits us at a rest stop. Gas station, convenience store, burger chain.