Perversion (Perversion Trilogy #1)(16)

It was Thursday afternoon. He wanted a thousand dollars from two twelve-year-old girls…in less than four days.

Marco paused at the door. “Welcome to the family, blanquita!” He shouted as he left. The echo of his wicked laughter lingered long after the slam of the door.

I fell onto the bed next to Gabby, feeling like I’d just been in a car accident. Tense, sore, aching, dizzy.

“Welcome fucking home!” Marco shouted again. His voice booming through the open window from the floor below was like a shock to the spine, sending Gabby and me jumping into each other’s arms.

Our worlds had been torn apart and put back together and torn apart again over the course of one very confusing day. My mind raced with a million possible solutions, but each one was met with the same result.

There was no escape.

My locket pressed between Gabby and me. I held on tightly to my only two sources of comfort in the world.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry? This isn’t your fault. This is no one’s fault.”

We stopped talking, neither of us knowing what to say. The silence lasted for hours. We didn’t so much as dare to exhale until long after the sun faded from the sky.

When we did finally exhale, it was only to cry, sobbing into one another’s arms on a twin-sized bed long into the night. The same as we did not twenty-four hours ago.

Although, for much different reasons.

Marco was wrong about there being no way to escape. He had to be. I’d find away.

But he was right about one thing.

We weren’t kids anymore.





Tricks,

WHO THE FUCK IS YELLING AT YOU AND CALLING YOU NAMES? Aunt Ruby? Does she hit you? Because if she or anyone else lays a single fucking hand on you…

I talked to Marci and Belly, the couple who took me in. They said they’d contact CPS about taking you, too. You can’t stay in that place and worry about Aunt Ruby and strange men treating you like shit. I don’t really do happy, but right now I’m fucking pissed as all hell.

I put my address at the bottom of this letter so we don’t have to go through CPS anymore. Give me yours, too. I got a cell phone now. I’ll put that on here, too. Call me if you need anything or if you’re in trouble or just need to talk. The conversation might be one-sided, but I guess that makes me a good listener. I can even take Marci’s car to come get you, but I’m gonna get you out, Tricks.

If it’s the last thing I do.





-G


PS-They call me Grim now.





Tricks,

You didn’t reply to my last letter. And then I realized why when it came back to me in the mail. You never got it. When Marci called CPS, they said your file has been sealed and you’ve been moved, but they can’t tell us where. They said they can’t send or receive mail for you either, so I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter. I did manage to track down shitty Aunt Ruby, but she was drunk or high on something and barely knew her own name never mind where you went. She said to your brother Mark’s house, but you never mentioned a brother, and I can’t find anything on him. Gabby’s records are also sealed, so I can’t find out where she is either. I’m hoping that maybe you’re with her and that you’re happier wherever you are. But none of this makes any sense. You just disappeared.

Where are you, Tricks?





-G


PS-Marci keyed Ruby’s car on the way out. The bitch deserved that and more.





Five Years Later...





THE PRESENT





Six





Tricks is gone.

Tristan Paine is dead.

I slip my phone into my pocket, having finished my daily Google search for Emma Jean Parish, with the same results that have shown up for over five years now.

Not a damn thing.

“You done swiping right on some hot cock so we can play now?” Haze goads, downing a shot of whiskey. He flips his black baseball cap to the back and racks the balls.

“Don’t be jealous, you homophobe. Besides, I was swiping right for you. Don’t worry. I gave him your number,” I reply with a wink. My cigarette hangs from my lips as I take my shot. Two balls bounce off each other and roll right into their intended pockets.

“Fuck off,” Haze barks with a laugh. “I’m confident in my heterosexuality, and for the record, I could probably pull a much hotter guy than you. If I wanted to. But if you decide you want to start crossing swords with dudes, you should know, I’m not a homophobe, and as your brother, I fully support you,” he says, placing his hand over his heart.

“Good to know, fucker,” I mutter with a laugh.

“He was looking for HER again,” Sandy explains, taking a sip of his beer.

“Anything?” Haze asks, raising his eyebrows.

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Fuck, how long have you been looking for her now? Like three years?” Haze asks.

“Four,” Sandy replies.

“Five,” I correct.

I don’t want to talk about Tricks. I already spend too much time thinking about her. More so now than when she first disappeared. I especially don’t want to talk about her tonight because I’m feeling restless. My knuckles are aching for action. The truce has toned down the violence in Lacking, but it hasn’t lessened the need for it.