Trust(62)

An upbeat song by The 1975 played on the radio. Not the theme from Mission Impossible, but it would do. I’d considered asking John to drive, but he’d already paid his dues with this guy. Plus, this was women’s business.

It wasn’t far to the house, a nice two-story stucco with a big old willow tree filling the front yard. It was located on a quiet street. Lights were on in the place upstairs and down; people were definitely home. A couple of cars were parked in the wide driveway. Tonight, our target was the black SUV with a bull bar so large it had to be compensating for something.

Dick size, possibly. Manners, definitely. And intellect probably also belonged on the list.

“I’ll keep the engine running,” said Hang, headlights switched off and the music turned down. She was a natural at this. “Leave the door open on your side. First sign of anyone, run.”

I nodded. Though honestly, the thought of getting caught didn’t bother me at all. It was even kind of thrilling. Thinking of how the asshole had grabbed me, like it was no big deal, like he had the right because what did I matter anyway . . . I smiled. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Boxes of eggs cradled in my arms, I crept up the concrete drive. Hopefully there’d be no security lighting. It would be a pity if I were disturbed before my work was finished.

First I went for the windshield. The shells made a gratifying cracking sound as they hit their target. And I might not have been too keen on sports, but pitching eggs came quite naturally to me. Golden yolks slid down the glass; more splattered across the hood. I paid particular attention to the driver’s-side door. It got extra-great coverage due to its importance.

Fighting back was exhilarating.

I stood beneath the silver cloud-covered sky, grinning like a loon, circling the SUV, peppering it with eggy goodness. A trail of empty cartons lay strewn behind me. I honestly didn’t even hear the yapping of the dog or the voices calling it back. Hang’s shouting didn’t reach me either, at first. When she lay on the horn, though . . . I snapped to attention, blinking like I’d just woken from a dream. A happy one. The outside light flicked on, shining bright in my eyes.

“Hey! What the fuck?” yelled a pissed-off male voice from inside. Keys jangled as he battled with the security lock on the front door. At his feet, the pint-size terror of a dog yapped on. Once the door opened, it was going to go straight on the attack. But there was still time; there had to be.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” shouted Hang, revving the engine. “Now!”

Just one second. I tore open the lid of my remaining carton and smashed the contents up against the side of his big SUV.

“Take that, you asshole,” I whispered. Then I ran.

Hang took off before I’d even shut the car door, my hatchback surging forward with more force than I’d have thought capable. Heart pounding, breathing hard, I wrestled with the seat belt. Slimy hands were slippery.

“Holy shit,” said Hang, looking in the rear mirror.

“We did it.”

“No one’s following.” Her gaze flitted between the mirror and the road, fingers wrapped so tight around the wheel her knuckles stood out. “Except for a small pissed-off dog. Sorry, pup. See you later.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Oh, that was so good.”

“God. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.”

“I was yelling for you to run and you were just standing there, staring at the car.” She shook her head, slowing down and turning on the headlights now that we’d covered a suitable distance. “It was like you were in a trance or something.”

“Just admiring my work.”

“And you just had to use up the last carton, didn’t you? Shit, Edie.”

“I was so close to finishing.”

“He nearly caught us!” She laughed. It sounded more incredulous/hysterical than happy. The whites of her eyes had never seemed so huge. “You’re insane. I could kind of kill you right now. Let’s not do that again anytime soon, okay?”

Slumped back in the passenger seat, I smiled. “That was awesome, though.”

“You got him good.”

“We got him good.”

“Yeah, we did.” Reluctantly, she smiled. “Asshole.”





Anders threw a party Saturday night at his house, which turned out to be not that far from mine. It was his eighteenth birthday.

His dad remained on the scene, playing fantasy basketball with his friends in the den. So long as no major laws or furniture were broken, that’s where they’d stay. While his father had been cool with the party, his mom apparently had reservations. As per the usual, there was the keg of beer, though this time it stayed concealed in a small pool house surrounded by a garden. Lots of bikinis and loud music, with people sneaking in and out of the structure holding red Solo cups, ensued.

Still no sign of John.

“And here is a variety of nutritious juices. Lots of vitamins and nutrients,” said Anders, giving Hang, Sophia, Carrie, and me a tour of the party. The flashing tiara on his head left little doubt as to in whose honor the event was being held. “Very healthy. You’ll be able to dance all night on that natural energy.”

“Looks delicious,” said Carrie. “And there’s the dance floor. See you guys later!”