“Yes,” I said breathlessly.
He nodded to himself. He seemed to get it.
“So why did you try and rob me just now?”
Shit.
“Why,” he continued and started pacing again, “did you try and scam me? Why now? Why me?” He choked on his last words like he was swallowing a bone. “Why did you try and fuck with me again?!”
My hands went into fists behind my back, my body instinctively picking up on the flashes of rage that were starting to flow through him. Flee or fight. Human instinct. In the dull light of the room, with his wild tats and hair that looked like he’d been pulling on it all night, he looked like a crazy person. His eyes were darting back and forth like a metronome.
“You used me,” he said incredulously. “You pretended to like me, you went to my show. You fucking paid some drunk-ass one hundred dollars to be your scapegoat. Don’t give me that look. The guy approached me in the bathroom before we left. He told me what the note said. I remembered the opportunistic look in your eyes and I started thinking about things that I didn’t want to think about. I’ve been fucked over too many times to not see the signs. To know when a woman’s got something else up her sleeve. And you kept going. We went out on a date. I had to know, I had to see where this was going. We went on a date and you slept with me. You fucked me and fucked me good and you still went through with it. You say you were a bitch in high school. You say you were weak and you just wanted to be normal. Well guess what. You’re not normal. You’re definitely weak. And I don’t think I’ve ever met a bigger bitch than you.”
I looked down at the ground, trying to keep my cool while the arrows were flung. Some had bounced off of me. The rest stuck in deep. “Are we done?” I said with deliberation.
He sighed and leaned against the wall. Time ticked by. It felt like an eternity.
“Yeah, we’re done. I’ve said what I had to say.”
I glanced at him. “Do you feel better now?”
He cocked his head and seemed to think it over. “A little bit.”
“So what’s next? What do you plan on doing with me? Are you taking me down to the station yourself like daddy’s little hero, or are you calling the cops over here? Or are they already here waiting outside?” I could have been nicer to him. After all, he had the upper hand and I was totally at his mercy. But he wasn’t the only one who was lying. He led me on to set me up. Every nice thing he said about me, about my scars, was just a pile of bullshit used as bait. And let me tell you, shit tastes exactly like the name suggests.
“Well, what’s next depends on what you choose. I’m not a total asshole, you know.”
I almost rolled my eyes but the intensity in his gaze kept me motionless.
“All right,” I said. “What are my choices?”
“You have two. Three, technically. But I don’t think you want the third choice.”
He was trying to be dramatic. I was too tired for it.
“Then let’s hear the first two.”
“The first choice is that you go directly to jail.”
“No passing Go, huh?”
He shook his head sharply. Boy, if looks could kill, he wouldn’t need that gun in his hands.
“This isn’t a game, Ellie. I know that’s all you’re used to playing...”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. So I go to jail. You turn me in.”
“Correct. I have more than enough evidence here of your little robbery. I don’t know how much time you get for that kind of shit these days, and I suppose it’s a bit of a pity that you aren’t armed, but anyway, I digress. You go in the slammer for quite some time, that’s what I know. You’ll do time. Get a criminal record. You’ll never be able to con again.”
“I got it.”
“And your family’s name will be tarnished even more. Your poor Uncle Jim. He’s going to have a hell of a time with this. Gee, I hope the whole town won’t turn against him. Doesn’t really look good harboring two sets of Watt fugitives.”
I narrowed my eyes, my jaw tense. “What’s the other choice?”
“The other choice is that you help me.”
I brought my chin into my neck. “Help you? Help you with what?”
He let out a long breath and tapped the gun against his leg, looking up at the ceiling. “That might be better explained in the morning.”
“But…but, okay, so then what happens? I can’t agree to help you unless you tell me what it is. What’s going to happen to me until morning?” The panic was starting to spread inside my lungs at a speed that even Ativan couldn’t save.