24 #3
I thrust out a trembling hand to grab the two twenty-dollar bills Debbie took from me that first morning. They look like the very same ones. I slowly bring them back and stuff them into my pocket while Debbie looks on in confusion.
“So let me get this straight,” chuckles Logan. “You held her at knifepoint for forty dollars?”
“They were my forty dollars,” I snap, shame turning into anger.
“Uh huh. Pretty sure they were mine actually. The ones you stole from me after you drugged me. Ring any bells?”
I have to bite my tongue to keep from cursing him out again.
“That’s okay,” he says, holding me to him in a way that feels like ownership.
“We’ll consider it an investment.” He lifts his eyes to Coltello again.
“I’ve spent eighty dollars on her. Forty when she was twelve, forty one month ago.
That’s how much she’s worth, so if you want her, you’d better fork it over. ”
I’m seething with rage as Coltello lets his head fall back, barking out a shout of laughter. “Cazzo! That’s what this is all about? Eighty fucking dollars? Done, man. Done. You’ll get your money’s worth, don’t worry. Fucking hilarious.”
I sag against Logan’s chest, completely overwhelmed, hopelessness, anger and shame washing over me.
I feel so much worse than when he tied me up and I thought he was going to stab me.
This is it. This is really it. The end of the line.
The man I’m in love with, handing me over to my murderous husband. No, not handing me over. Selling me.
For eighty fucking dollars.
I’m suffering so much that I barely realize I’ve just given a name to my feelings for him.
It takes me a full minute to realize that the loud, embarrassing sobs I hear are coming from me. But instead of mocking me, Logan’s hand is back to stroking up my back. Which only makes me cry harder as I cling to him, looking to the man who’s selling me for eighty dollars for comfort.
Fuck! What’s wrong with me! Stop it, Lia! Stop it!
Still laughing, Coltello makes a pretense of searching his inner pockets. He must know he doesn’t have the cash on him, just as I do. That’s something the administration pride themselves on. They don’t carry money. Only their crew does.
“It’s gonna have to be an IOU, Colt,” he says at last, his mouth twisted in an ugly smirk.
Logan marks a pause, as though he’s seriously hesitating. Then he says, “Nope, sorry. You can just come by later and buy her. I don’t do debt. I’m taking her now.”
He pushes me to my feet and stands up too. I’m shaking so hard I can barely stand, and he slips an arm around my waist. I can’t tell if it’s to keep me propped up or to keep me locked to him. Or to protect me.
No, not to protect me. Definitely not that.
Yet my body can’t help but feel safe as it sags against his strong chest, while he barks to Debbie, who’s been staring at us all with her mouth hanging open for the past five minutes, “We’re taking it to go. Wrap it up.”
“Uhm…” She startles out of her reverie, dragging her eyes down to the eggs and bacon I never touched. “Okay. I’ll, uhm… go do that.”
She stumbles to the kitchen and returns a moment later with a cardboard box. Hurriedly, she stuffs the food inside, spilling out a good portion of it in her nervousness.
Logan tosses a folded bill onto her pile of life savings. “Off you go,” he says, snapping his fingers. She stares at the money, apparently hesitating to grab it, but he snaps his fingers again, and she rushes back to the kitchen.
“You can just add that to your IOU, Coltello,” he says coolly, turning around. “The punch to the face, too. That’s gonna cost you extra.”
“Fuck, man,” snorts Coltello, standing up as well and cracking his knuckles. “So what do I owe you?”
“Eighty-five dollars.”
“Five whole extra dollars, huh?”
“Yeah, well, I just paid 10 bucks for the filth she served us. So that brings your total to 85.”
“Okay,” chortles Coltello. “And the punch to the face?”
“That’s extra.”
The hard edge in Logan’s voice has me shivering in his arm, while Coltello’s face goes from amused to confused.
“Right. Extra. So how much?”
Logan leads me out of the diner, much more gently than I’d have expected given the way he’s been treating me up till now. “Consider it a debt.”
He opens the car door and pushes me into the passenger seat.
I huff out in relief when I see Aurora in the back, cheerfully clapping her hands in time to Everest’s singing of The Wheels On The Bus.
Her hands and mouth are sticky with the remnants of the popsicle, and she turns to look at me, but I quickly whip around, knowing I must still have the telltale marks of my tears and the punch to the face.
“I’m staying at the hotel in the next town,” declares Logan, sliding into the driver’s seat. “It’s the only place in a fifty mile radius with a proper coffee machine. My girl sure knows how to pick her hiding spots, huh?”
He gives me what feels like an affectionate nudge, and I stare at him in pained confusion.
Coltello leans against the car, his hands resting on the roof. “Fine. I’ll come over and collect in an hour or so. Just as soon as I can find an ATM in this godforsaken place.”
“I’m sure one of the guys you posted around the diner has some cash,” says Logan smoothly as he turns on the ignition.
Coltello lets out a bark of laughter. “Fuck, man. You’re good.
This entire time, you knew I had my crew pointing guns at you?
You were just drinking your coffee like nothing was up.
I wouldn’t have killed you, though. It was…
just in case. Anyway, your game is cute.
I’ll play it. But I’m counting on you not to run, okay? ”
“Uh huh.” Logan pushes a pair of sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be at the hotel waiting for those 85 bucks.”
“And that debt,” says Coltello. “How do you want me to pay that?”
“I told you. I don’t do debts.”
Coltello frowns, his laughter dying down in his throat. “But you said… you said the punch in the face was a debt.”
“That’s right.”
“So…” Coltello looks as lost as I feel. “How the hell am I supposed to pay your debt when you don’t do debts?”
Logan’s mouth twists up into a grim smirk. “I’m sure a big boy like you can figure it out.”
Then, before Coltello has time to respond, he’s slammed the gas pedal to the floor, sending us hurtling down the road.