brick wall of the alley that’s cool from the shade. I’m watching and waiting. I cross one arm over my body and prop the other against it, my hand to my face, taking a deep inhale, then letting it escape through the O of my lips.
Olivia seemed distracted today. I’d expected more dialogue this week, but she barely acknowledged me.
I was off my game, too. Dr. Marcellus asked too many questions with extreme specificity. It threw me after last week’s overly generic dialogue. It was like she’d been studying my mind. The way she pried about my past, implied it was checkered, asked about my parents, my hobbies. She almost had me second guessing what lies I’d told or if I’d accidentally signed a consent for her to obtain records from the social workers while I was in the foster system.
Or from the psychologist in juvie.
Almost.
At least Olivia will be in a better place after blurting out her confessions in a room she believes is made for storing secrets.
A woman’s voice comes from around the corner, so I drop my invisible cigarette and grind the pavement with my toes. I peer out of the alley, scanning the sidewalk around the corner.
I see her, but she’s not alone. So much for bumping into her. I slip back into hiding and listen intently. The man speaking to her has a gruff, condescending tone. My shoulders tighten in response.
“Listen,” he says sharply, demanding her attention. “I know you’ve been spending too much. I’d hate for Camden to find out.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Don’t play dumb, Olivia. You know that he keeps his credit clean. And you’re running around charging on numerous credit cards.”
There’s a pause. Everything is still.
“Pay them off and close them. Today,” the man barks.
“I don’t have the money,” she says, her voice shaking.
The thud of one of them grabbing the other reverberates in my mind. My skin tingles and my heart picks up as I ready myself to pounce on him.
“Take this,” he whisper-shouts. “Pay them off. You’ll pay me back.”
“Jared, I—”
“I’ll have some work for you in the meantime. Consider it interest payments,” he says firmly. “And not a word to our Cammy boy.”
Heavy footsteps thud in my direction, and I glance at him from the alley. He’s tall and bulky, with a salt and pepper mop on his head. His gaze meets mine, and for a second, recognition burns in my brain. There’s recognition in his eyes.
His gaze flits away, and he storms down the sidewalk. I look at the wall across from me, searching for understanding. His eyes resemble those of every man who has mistreated me over the years. The hollowness. The hatred. He’s not familiar to me, but his type is.
Sucking in a steadying breath, I come out of hiding and head in Olivia’s direction. I come to a stop in front of a misfit boarded-up shop.
I’m too late. She’s already gone.