Then a word started to stick out in her mind—Boss. She remembered the least-scary man had called him boss. Boss? Then another memory struck her mind. The big boss gave you a job. You don’t have a fucking choice. The crazed man had been scared for his life. He had known his fate hours before. A grown man had been scared to death of him. The big boss, job, no choice.
Holy shit, I just watched someone get whacked!
Elle had heard the rumors and stories ever since she had been born in Kansas City about it being one of the mob capitals of the United States. She thought the stuff was for the movies, though; that they really were just rumors.
She forced her eyes shut and pictured the boss. She saw an older, dark-haired, handsome man wearing a suit.
Oh, God, they even wear suits.
Elle knew she had just met the mob boss of Kansas City; that he was the real deal, whacking and all.
I am so fucked.
* * *
Elle sat in English the next morning, barely listening to Mr. Evans when he addressed the class. With everything that had happened last night, she had forgotten to finish her essay. The whole morning had actually been a blur; she couldn’t even quite remember how the hell she’d ended up here.
“Elle, Elle, Elle?” Elle looked up at Mr. Evans.
“Uh-huh?” Elle was lost today as well.
“Do you have your essay to turn into me?”
Elle felt everyone staring at her. She was sure this would just add to her bullying.
“My essay? No, sorry.” Elle watched Mr. Evans walk on to the next student.
When Mr. Evans walked up to the front of the classroom, she noticed an empty seat where Cassandra had sat yesterday. She looked around the room, wondering if she’d decided to move.
Hmm, no Cassandra?
She took that as a blessing since she had never missed a school day. Not ever. If a girl like her missed a day, she felt as if she had missed a year of her life. Cassandra had to be in everyone’s business, thus missing a day meant missing something potentially good.
Elle still felt like eyes were watching her. She looked around the room again; she couldn’t find anyone sticking out, though. It wasn’t like she was a particular point of interest, especially when Mr. Evans had laid out a strict no-bullying policy in his classroom.
Elle heard the bell ring and looked at the clock.
Gosh, next class already?
She and Chloe packed up their things and started heading for the door.
“Elle, can I speak to you for a second?”
Elle looked at Chloe and hoped she understood to stay put.
She walked over to Mr. Evans’ desk. “Yes?”
“You don’t strike me as the type to fail at turning in assignments.”
“I think I caught a stomach bug last night. I actually did the first half of the assignment before work, and by the time I got home, I was too sick to finish. I apologize.” Elle hoped he believed her. It was honestly the truth, minus the bloody details.
“That’s okay. I wasn’t actually going to grade them. It was just meant to see where each student actually stood in English. I will take it that you are at least average, since you hope to write as a profession.” By his statement, Elle could tell he believed she was telling the truth. He was too good at sifting through truths and lies.
Well, ninety-nine percent of teenagers do lie about why they don’t have their homework.
“Thank you, Mr. Evans. I appreciate it.” Elle thought he really was a nice guy. No teacher had done what he had done for her and Chloe.
At the thought of Chloe, Elle looked back to see if she was there. She wasn’t. Dang, why would she do that?
It was time for Elle to leave. She headed for the door.
“Don’t let it happen again, Elle.” Elle didn’t care about his parting words. She went out the door and went straight for Pre-Cal.
Her butt better have made it to class.
Rushing too fast, Elle felt someone run into her. She had been so worried about Chloe she had forgotten to check who was in the hall to ruin her day.
As Elle felt arms around her waist, steadying her, she had to look up to see who was about to blame her for hitting them. Nero. Great, of all people.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Why are you apologizing?” Not once had he ever acknowledged her for her whole high school career, let alone spoken a word to her. What’s more, right then his arms were still holding her waist. She also realized, up close, his voice was deep. She didn’t like being this close to him; she tried to back up, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“Tell me why you apologized, and I’ll let you go.”
She looked up at him, afraid he might hurt her at first, but his face showed no maliciousness. He merely looked genuinely curious. She really didn’t know what to say; partly because she didn’t know why she had apologized, and the other part of her was thrown off at his handsome face and deep voice.