Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  And at the end of the strip, there’s a pizza place, as promised.

  I beeline for the bathroom, but Jason has decided to hold on to my bag, so it’s not like I’m going anywhere. There’s an old picture of my parents in my wallet. If I have to run and abandon my crappy belongings, fine, but I’m not leaving without that photo.

  My mascara seems to be everywhere but on my eyes. My lips are covered in a weird pinkish gunk. It’s the remnants of my lipstick mixed with… Actually, I don’t know what it’s mixed with, maybe dried saliva.

  Cleaning it off requires several aggressive rinses. Gross. No wonder the farmer-prick felt comfortable blackmailing us.

  I imagine that sometime soon, Jason will tell me he knows I stashed the money, and he’ll list the reasons I should tell him where.

  Getting to stay alive will probably top that list.

  Then I think, hey, Jason let that farmer keep fifteen thousand bucks. Maybe he’ll leave me half of the big haul.

  Yeah, right.

  I wander out of the bathroom, still unsure what to do. Three senior citizens cross in front of me, carrying pizza slices in ventilated cardboard boxes. I wait patiently and try to think. Jason is dangerous, and he’s not going to give up until I hand over the money.

  Even if I don’t tell him where it is, all he needs to do is leave me with one of his goon friends, and then he can retrace my path through the woods. I tried to cover the tracks near the hiding place, but I was in a rush. And Jason’s obviously got some kind of tracking skill since he found me in the first place.

  The brightly lit dining room is almost completely empty. I spot Jason sitting at a table along the window closest to the parking lot. Kids sprint past the window. They stop all at once, turn around, and trudge back the way they came. I don’t see or hear the adults who called them.

  Jason is sitting casually, both elbows propped on the table, a crumpled napkin in his hand while he chews. A cup of what might be coffee sits beside his paper plate. He could be anyone: a construction worker, a teacher, a businessman.

  I guess he is a businessman of sorts.

  Almost an entire pizza is sitting in front of him. One slice is missing.

  I bet I could put away the rest. I bet it tastes like cardboard, and I bet it will be the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.

  “Excuse me?” The moon-faced girl working the register waves me down as I’m passing. “Your husband bought a large soda for you,” she says, handing me an empty cup. “The machine is just there.”

  Your husband. I want to make gagging sounds.

  “Is it free refills?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “If you want.”

  I fill the cup halfway with water, drink it right there, then push the lever for ice. It chunks noisily into my cup. Cola sounds like a good idea—my long day seems headed into a long night.

  A quarter of the soda is gone before I reach Jason, who is staring out at the parking lot.

  Maybe he’s called for reinforcements. My gut twists.

  He must see me approaching, must see my reflection in the window’s thick glass, but he doesn’t look over.

  I slide into the seat across from him. The pizza smells intoxicatingly good, but I don’t reach for it.

  “Who did you call?” I ask.

  “No one.” He seems puzzled.

  Should I believe him? I don’t really have a choice. Sure, I could call the cops, say he’s abducted me, but a guy who regularly totes around huge bags of cash probably has connections in law enforcement.

  I grab a slice of pizza. All of a sudden, I’m barely able to control myself. I scarf it down without tasting it, then inhale a second piece, crust and all.

  “It’s not that good,” Jason says, leaning back from the table.

  His blue eyes are tired, half-lidded in a way that makes me think of the bedroom. He’s a sexy man. That’s a simple statement of fact. I’m not attracted to him…

  Well, not that attracted to him.

  Maybe if he weren’t a criminal. If I weren’t…

  Oh, hell. If he offered to buy me a drink in a bar, I’d have told him to save his money, that I was good to go.

  “It’s scrumptious,” I say around the first mouthful of my third slice. My stomach is full of liquid and bread and feels stretched like I’ve just eaten Thanksgiving dinner.

  And I’m still starving.

  Jason watches me eat in silence.

  I bet he’s got his next move all plotted out. I wish I had some kind of plan, but what I do depends on what angle he decides to work.

  Finally, I grab a napkin and wipe my fingers.

  Only one slice of pizza remains.

  “Thank you,” I say lightly. “You can have that one.”

  “How much money would it take for you to be content?” he asks.

  The question comes out of left field. “Content?”

  “Do you know what it means?”

  I give him a dirty look.

  His face is a calm mask. “If I let you keep the rest of the money, would that be enough?”

  The rest? No way is he referring to the money I hid.

  “Yes,” I say slowly.

  “All your problems could be solved with thirty thousand dollars.”

  “We only have fifteen left. That asshole with the gun has the rest, remember? But thirty would pay off the money I owe, and I’d have enough extra to buy a reliable car.”

  “And then what? You’ll find another place to turn tricks?”

  My face heats up fast, and I look around to make sure we’re still alone.

  Jason laughs, a loud sound that fills the silence without apology. “Do you really think you’re capable of fucking guys for money? You blush at everything.”

  “Yes, I’m capable of it,” I say.

  “Do you realize you would have needed to fuck Toby?” He abruptly leans forward, skewering me with his gaze. “I don’t think Toby took a bath in the last week.”

  My nose wrinkles before I can stop the reaction.

  “Were you willing to get on your knees?” He drags the side of his thumb over the corner of his bottom lip. His voice lowers, and his blue eyes stare into mine. “To let him fuck your tits?”

  My cheeks burn. “Yes,” I say, determined to win this little game. “I would have s-sucked him off or whatever he wanted.”

  “Anything? What if he wanted to fuck you in the ass?”

  Blood drains from my face. “That wouldn’t have been necessary.”

  “Ah. You were planning to be a two-thirds whore. What every paying customer fantasizes about—a woman who tells them no.”

  I gulp cola. The icy cold liquid jolts me back to myself.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Thanks to you, that avenue is no longer open to me. What happened back there, anyway? At the meeting, I mean.”

  Jason’s amusement evaporates. “I thought you didn’t want to know. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

  “Are you and Toby the only survivors?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You didn’t answer mine,” I shoot back.

  “I asked first. If I let you take that cash, what’s your plan?”

  “I told you. I would pay off my debts.”

  He looks irritated. The expression turns his face scary, but I don’t think he’ll do anything to me. Still, my heart beats faster.

  “If I give you the money, how do you plan to support yourself?”

  “The same way I was supporting myself before I met you.”

  “Poorly?”

  “Asshole,” I mutter.

  That makes him laugh again, the deep boom that carries. This time, the sound seems to wrap around my very soul. It’s a nice laugh. There’s joy in it, and that’s a surprise.

  He folds the last slice of pizza in half and takes a bite. “Fine. I deserved that. You’re not going to tell me what you were doing for a living?”

  “So you can give me the money, then track me down again
?”

  “I already know enough to track you down.” Jason leans forward even more. “How much would it be?”

  “How much would what be?” I can’t look away from his eyes. Dark gold rings the outsides of his irises. Up close, it’s startling.

  “If I want to fuck you, how much would you charge me?”

  My cheeks flame instantly. My face is so hot, it’s almost painful.

  “Allow me to run through the price list for you,” he says.

  I drop my hands into my lap and clench my fists.

  “Hand job. Five bucks.”

  My eyes widen. “Five? Really?”

  “You’re right. That’s on the high side.”

  “High?” I ask, outraged.

  “Assuming the guy isn’t a double amputee, he can provide that particular service himself. How much for a blow job, do you think?”

  I can’t even guess—don’t want to.

  “Tell you what.” Jason dips into my bag and extracts a crisp hundred, which he slides across the table.

  He doesn’t bother avoiding the splotch of grease from the pizza, or the puddle of condensation that dripped off my soda cup.

  “Hazard a guess. If you’re within ten percent of the price, I’ll give you this.”

  “Two hundred bucks.”

  Jason throws back his head and laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Take it anyway,” he says, flicking the bill at me.

  I grab it, dry it on the bottom of my shirt, then fold it in half and slip it inside my bra. At first, the edges are sharpish and uncomfortable, but within moments it feels like a second skin.

  “Two hundred bucks for a blowjob,” he says with a snort. “No, princess. Try fifty, and that’s if you’re good and you don’t make the guy wear a condom.”

  “How much if he wears a condom?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “But I looked online, and escorts get more than two hundred in large cities.”

  “Escorts, sure. But Toby wasn’t running an escort service. I’m afraid to ask, but how much for sex?”

  “Fifty bucks?” I guess, dejected.

  “You could get a hundred,” Jason says. “You’ve got all your teeth.” A wicked smile crosses his face, and my heart sinks even lower.

  “What?” I ask.

  “If you were missing most of them, you could probably get more for the blow job, but less for sex.”

  I stare at him and try to figure out if he’s serious. He’s probably fucking with me, but it’s impossible to tell.

  “How much do they charge for sex without a condom?” I ask.

  He makes a little shrug and shakes his head.

  “You don’t know? I figured you were an expert.”

  The wicked smile returns. “It’s not like I’ve ever needed to pay for sex,” he says.

  “Because you’re so hot, the whores just spread their legs for you.” I roll my eyes.

  “They do, actually,” he says. “But that’s not my thing.”

  “I get it. You think prostitutes are less than human. You think you can take one look at people and immediately know their souls.”

  “I can. Maybe not everyone, but you? You’re transparent. Goody little two shoes.”

  “My high school pre-calc teacher paid me for sex,” I say.

  Jason’s expression goes blank. “When you were a student?”

  “My senior spring. I was legal.”

  He looks like he wants to ask something else, but then he doesn’t. “I hope you charged him a lot.”

  “My dad thought I turned into a math genius,” I say. “It started when I needed tutoring. My teacher’s girlfriend had just left him. It’s nothing I’m proud of, but it happened.” I don’t mention how ridiculously cute Eddie was, or that he’d already been accepted to grad school and was quitting teaching. After spring break he told us that he was giving everyone in the class an A as his final “fuck you” to the school administration.

  “And based on that, you thought you were prepared to walk the streets in your underwear?”

  “No. I thought I needed money.”

  “So, if I offered to let you have the money in this bag in exchange for sex, would you do it?”

  My heart pounds as I stare at him. I know this isn’t an offer. He’s teasing me. He’s right—I’m easy to read. Even if I weren’t, Jason knows he’s hot. Most women probably daydream about what he’s like in bed.

  Well, his flirting is working because I find myself wanting to agree with his arguments.

  Because I’m thinking that if I can walk away with that money free and clear, isn’t that better than having to look over my shoulder the rest of my life?

  Then I laugh. “You’re offering me the same deal that the farmer did.”

  “Forget the sex.” His eyes seem to darken. “I never mix business with pleasure. Ever.”

  Ouch. I make a face to convey that I’m not the least bit interested in him. “You’re offering me the same deal. Take this smaller amount of money and know that it’s yours. You’ll never have to worry about someone coming to take it back.”

  “It’s a good deal,” Jason says.

  I lick my lips. “No strings attached?”

  “Are you asking if I’d make you tell me where the rest of the money is? No. It would be kind of you to do that, as a way to show your gratitude.”

  “Because you think you’ll be able to find it. But you won’t. I hid it really well.”

  His eyes narrow slightly.

  I can’t read him all the time, but I know what he’s thinking now.

  Somewhere along the way, I earned his respect—despite the embellished story about my pre-calc teacher. He no longer thinks of me as some clueless bimbo.

  That was a mistake.

  Before, I was an annoyance. Someone to be coddled or humored or threatened, depending.

  Now I’m a threat.

  That’s what he’s thinking.

  Chapter 11

  Jason had already made his decision. He’d reached it a long time ago.

  There was no good reason to keep staring at DeeAnn, and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  Her lips were slightly greasy from the pizza, and they looked kissably soft.

  They looked like they’d be nirvana wrapped around his cock.

  He wasn’t sure when it had happened. Maybe in the field. When they were talking. Or maybe earlier, when he tackled her and held her briefly in his arms, feeling how vulnerable she was.

  One instant, he’d been trying to run a con on her, and a few minutes later, he was thinking perhaps there was a way out of this for them both.

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said.

  DeeAnn’s sole reaction was to blink once.

  Shouldn’t have told her how easy she is to read. That had been a mistake. Why had he said it, anyway?

  Because for the first time in years, you’re talking to someone you don’t want to cheat or manipulate.

  The realization hit him like a semi.

  He coughed once, then helped himself to a sip of DeeAnn’s soda—his coffee was empty.

  DeeAnn folded her hands on top of the table. “I’m listening,” she said primly.

  “If you go back to your old life, you’ll be tracked down. It won’t matter if you have all the cash or none of it. Do you have any close friends?”

  “Old friends from school,” she said. “An ex. But no one who could be bothered to attend Dad’s funeral.”

  “I don’t have family, but I’m established here. People know me. I’ve got a reputation. You know the funny thing about reputations?”

  She shook her head, but her cheeks were coloring.

  Her blushes were sexy. They made him think about what she’d look like if he was between her legs, driving his cock hard and fast into her pussy.

  He dropped a hand under the table to subtly adjust himself.

  “I think you’ll immediately recognize the truth of what I’m about to say.
A reputation takes a lifetime to build, but one wrong decision to destroy.”

  After a moment, DeeAnn nodded slowly.

  “My reputation was spotless, but it’s ruined now, I think. Don’t ask me how. But I’m leaving.” He shrugged. “If you stay here, you’ll die.”

  “You’re not going to scare me that easily.”

  “I’m not trying to scare you, DeeAnn.”

  “Really?” Her skeptical frown almost made him laugh.

  “Really. I’m explaining it how it is. Here’s what I’m offering you. Come with me.”

  The suggestion hung in the air until Jason finally raised his eyebrows, impatience starting to creep over him.

  DeeAnn looked at him blankly. “Go with you… where?”

  “I’m saying we leave together. Well, first we get the money, then we leave. I’ll take you somewhere safe, set you up. You won’t get millions, but I’ll make sure you have a car, a place to live, and expenses covered for at least a couple of years—long enough to go back to school or whatever you want.”

  The left side of her mouth lifted slightly into a quizzical smile. “Why would either one of us take that deal?”

  “I’ll find the money, sooner or later, and then you’ll be here. With nothing.”

  She swallowed but didn’t protest, didn’t even look surprised. Apparently, she’d already worked that out for herself. “That doesn’t explain what you’re getting. Why do you care?”

  “You’re a witness. You know I’m involved. It’s in my best interests if you disappear.”

  “If we both disappear, they’ll think I had something to do with the shooting.”

  He nodded. “If you stay, they’ll torture you. The people that money belongs to? They’re not good guys.”

  “And you are?”

  “At the moment, yes.”

  DeeAnn’s cheeks reddened again, but her demeanor didn’t change. “If I’m a witness and you’ve got millions, it seems you need me more than I need you. I want half.”

  He’d expected this. After all, she’d tried to bargain with the asshole farmer holding a gun on them.