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HARDCORE: Storm MC(211)

By:Zoey Parker




Yet there I was, staring at the back of The Scarecrow’s head, looking at pure evil. Only an evil, heartless person could consider selling a child. I didn’t care about what he wanted to do to me nearly as much as I cared about her. Who would ruin a child’s life like that? A sweet, innocent little girl like Gigi? And he didn’t care! That was the worst part. He didn’t even flinch. How disconnected, how totally cold did a person have to be?



“What happened to you?” The words came out in a near whisper. I spat them at him.



“Are you talking to me?” he muttered.



“Yes. What happened to you?”



He turned. I saw his profile highlighted by the TV screen—the crooked nose, the pointed chin. “What the fuck are you talking about?”



“How could you do something like this? She’s a person. I’m a person. We’re not things. How can you sell people to other people?”



“What are you trying to do? Get inside my head so I’ll feel sorry for you? Gimme a break. Go to sleep, shut the fuck up. I can’t wait ’til you’re outta here.”



“You could get me outta here much quicker if you let me go.”



“No way. Stop trying. You’re worth too much money.”



I was curious. “How much?”



He snickered. “You really wanna know?”



“Yes. I should know how much money I’m making for you, shouldn’t I?”



He shrugged. “Fair enough. I’m asking for twenty grand.”



“Twenty thousand dollars? Not bad. You realize I could give you thirty, right?”



“Yeah, but I could get the money outta your account either way. So really, that’s fifty.” He chuckled nastily. “This is a pretty good day for me. Not so good for you.”



“You can’t get that kind of money. Only I can. It’s not like you’re going to take thirty thousand dollars out of an ATM. It’s not even in my checking or savings. It’s in my trust fund, from my parents. There’s more than that, actually. Much more. But I have to be there personally to take out such a large sum. They’re not going to give it to you.”



I had his attention, I could tell. He tried to pretend like he was only half interested, but I sensed there was much more. It was the change in the way he held his body. He sat up straighter, cocked his head in my direction. Listened more closely.



“Keep talking,” he murmured.



This is it. You have to be cool. It was my only shot to get through to him—I couldn’t push too hard or too fast. “If you wait until tomorrow, when the bank is open, I can go in and get the money. They’ll give me a cashier’s check for it. I can take it anywhere and get the money. Or I can put it in my checking account so you’ll have access to it. You can keep my ATM card. I don’t care. All that money can be yours.”



He made a noise like he was considering it but also wanted to be cool, just as I was. “How much? And don’t lie to me.”



“A hundred thousand.”



“Bullshit.”



“Give me my phone and I’ll access the account right now.”



“No way.”



“Then you’ll have to take my word for it.” He went silent, mulling it over. I knew I had him on the hook. “Think about it. Are you going to sell both of us for that much? I doubt it. You’re not getting eighty thousand for her.”



“Mind your business on that,” he spat. “You’re not getting her.”



Ease up. His temper was flaring. I kept my voice low, but was serious. “What? Yes, I am. That’s part of the deal. Both of us for my money. It can all be yours. This can all be over real quick.”



He stood, pacing the room with a thumbnail in his mouth. My stomach churned at the sight of his dirty hands. I didn’t want to imagine the germs he was sucking on. How did people live that way and actually survive it? How did he not have a dozen deadly diseases? Then again, for all I knew, he did.



He glanced at me. Sizing me up. Still wanting to pretend he didn’t care as much as he did. “You’re not bullshitting me?”



“You say you saw my house, right? You know I’m not making this up.” I didn’t usually brag about money, but it seemed like a good time to start. “My parents were rich, and they died years ago. I was an only child. You do the math.” If you can, I wanted to add, but I bit my tongue. It was no time to be insulting, not when he was so close to giving me what I wanted. So, so close. I could almost taste my freedom, and Gigi’s.