5. Mallory
MALLORY
By five o’clock the next day, I was back at the coffee shop, and not in hopes of running into a guy or for the matcha, although I could use a pick-me-up considering the shitty amount of sleep I managed to get last night.
I was meeting Paisley and potentially making my first friend in Elmwood. Hopefully, I didn’t say or do anything stupid, and I was strictly forbidding myself from talking about death. Maddox, on the other hand, was fair game.
I peered inside the coffee shop as I stood on the sidewalk, looking to see if Paisley was still working, but another barista was behind the counter, a guy with shaggy brown hair.
He was cute in an I-play-video-games-all-night way.
He had a carefree appearance, someone who put minimal effort into their clothes or hair because it wasn’t all that important, and it worked for him, not sloppily either.
“Hey.” A cheerful voice sounded behind me, and I jumped away from the window.
Paisley stood on the curb, a tote slung over one shoulder and her teal hair pulled back into a messy bun.
This was the first time I’d seen her dressed in something other than her Daily Dose tee. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I smiled to cover my nerves. “It’s fine. It wasn’t like I was ogling the guy behind the counter or anything.” I was joking. Mostly.
The corner of her lips lifted as she gave me a funny look. “Milo?”
“Even his name is cute.”
Paisley wrinkled my nose. “You might be the first girl who has ever said that about my brother.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh, shit. Brother? Seriously?”
She nodded.
“Sorry? I think. Does he have a girlfriend?” I said the stupidest things when I was embarrassed.
She laughed. “If you want his number, I got you. He might not know what to do or say if you call.”
“Who?” someone asked behind me.
My gaze turned to my right, following the voice to find a guy walking toward us with sharp cheekbones, fitted jeans, and a confidence I only wished I had. His auburn hair was styled to perfection, not a hair out of place.
He gave me a once-over, not aggressive but curiously. His lips curled, and I immediately decided I liked him. He had this aura that made me feel comfortable, perhaps too comfortable. I could see myself accidentally revealing too much about myself and the secrets I’d spent my life protecting.
“This is Atlas,” Paisley said, gesturing between us. “My emotional support human. Atlas, this is strawberry matcha or Mallory.”
“Oh, she’s cute.” Atlas held out a hand.
“Fashion critic. Local menace. I like guys, hate liars, and will absolutely tell you if your outfit is wrong.” He paused, tilting his head as he examined my choice of ripped denim shorts and off-the-shoulder vintage band tee I found in my mom’s closet.
“You have an eye for clothes. We’re definitely going to be friends. ”
I shook his hand, something I didn’t think I’d ever done with someone my age. “Mallory. Recently relocated. Emotionally unavailable but working on it.” I gave him my rundown the same way he had delivered his, thinking he would appreciate the banter. I was right.
“Oh, I already love you.” He released my hand and looped his arm through Paisley’s. “We’re keeping her. I’m calling it now.”
And just like that, the knot in my chest loosened.
“I told you.” Paisley’s eyes turned to me. “Atlas is my partner in crime. He begged to tag along. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course.”
“I had to meet the new girl before all the vultures at Public get wind of her. Don’t worry, Pais and I will fight them off.” Atlas’s twinkling baby-blue eyes went to Paisley. “Whose number are we giving out?”
Paisley rolled her eyes. “My brother’s.”
“Okay, at least you have taste in guys,” Atlas said flirtatiously.
Paisley scrunched her nose. “She also has a thing for Maddox.”
“Who doesn’t? Besides you, obviously, but you don’t count.” Atlas gave Paisley a pointed look. “We’ve already established there’s something wrong with your taste in men.”
Paisley’s eyes rolled. “Whatever. Let’s go.” She held up a keyring hooked on her middle finger, a key dangling from it.
“You’re driving?” Atlas asked, his expression wary.
“Get in before I regret bringing you,” she told him, frowning.
Atlas flipped his hair. “As if anyone could regret my presence.”
Stepping off the curb onto the street, she glanced left and right for any cars. “Believe it or not, there’s more to Elmwood than this little square, as cute as it is. I’m going to show you the parts you don’t find on postcards or in tourist brochures.”
I followed beside her into the parking lot, Atlas on my other side. “Will there be food involved in this tour?” I asked as we came to an SUV that had seen better decades, but at least she had her own car.
“I love your priorities,” Atlas said, opening the passenger door for me before he claimed the back seat.
I slid into the car, the leather smelling faintly of vanilla air freshener and coffee.
Paisley cranked the windows down, the evening air rushing in warm and alive. “How do you feel about pasta?”
“It’s one of the basic food groups,” I retorted, fastening my seat belt.
She grinned, turning the engine over. “Exactly.” She drove us past downtown, away from the string lights and the carefully maintained charm, and into quieter streets and through older neighborhoods lined with houses in need of some love.
As we drove, Paisley pointed out places with the knowledge of someone who’d grown up here. “That pizza place?” She pointed to a storefront with a faded awning. “Best slices after ten p.m. when you’re too drunk to care about quality but sober enough to need carbs.”
“Don’t eat at the diner on Mondays,” Atlas piped up from the back seat. “The seafood special is whatever didn’t sell over the weekend.”
“The vintage shop on Third…” Paisley added. “The owner, Mrs. Peter, will absolutely try to sell you things that are haunted. She’s not joking. They’re actually haunted.”
Atlas picked up where she left off, gesturing toward a shop with crystals displayed in the window.
“That new age store? Overpriced. The owner buys in bulk from and marks everything up three hundred percent. If you want actual good crystals, go to the place on Harbor Street. The woman who runs it is slightly feral but honest.”
“And that alley”—Paisley nodded toward a narrow passage between two buildings—“is where the local crews gunned each other down last year.”
My head whipped away from the view to Paisley, unsure I’d heard her correctly. “Wait. What? Crews?”
“Hmm. I bet you didn’t expect that. There are two key crews in Elmwood. We live in the Ravens’ territory. You cross Logan Boulevard into the north side of Elmwood, and you’re in Viper borders.”
“You’re not kidding?”
She shook her head. “Wish I was.”
“They mostly keep to themselves, and unless you have a gambling problem, you should be safe,” Atlas said. “The Ravens own and operate the casino and strip club in town. It’s how they keep all their illegal operations legal,” he explained at my confused expression.
“As a girl, we don’t have the luxury of walking around at night. Especially here. I think it’s important to know places to avoid. Over the last year, there has been a string of missing girls. I don’t want to see your face on the news.”
Holy fuck!
Maybe Elmwood wasn’t the safest place for Mom and me after all.
Not because I thought we might be kidnapped, but if Mom got wind that there were predators in town, she might feel the need to clean house…
or town in this instance. If I were going to live here, then she would need to make sure it was safe, hence painting the roads with their blood.
Shit.
Chewing on my lip, I gazed out the window. I didn’t know what to do. Did I press them for details? The more I knew about these disappearances, the better I’d be able to gauge how high the risk was of Mom breaking her promise.
“Shit, sorry.” Paisley’s tone softened as she glanced at me. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
I squinted against the setting sun. “What do you mean by missing? Like they ran away?”
“That’s one theory.” She didn’t sound convinced.
I studied her profile. “But not what you think happened.”
Paisley shook her head, taking a right at the intersection. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Atlas. “Do we tell her?”
“Sure, why not,” he agreed. “Matcha seems cool. Maybe she’ll be into it.”
My brows drew together. “Into what?”
Paisley shrugged. “It’s nothing, just something we’ve been following. The missing girls, we’ve been trying to piece together what they might have in common, where they were taken from, things like that.”
I blinked. “You’re investigating their disappearances?”
“Sort of. Investigating sounds too formal. We’re interested in finding the truth.”
Wonderful. I finally have the potential to make friends, and I go and get myself involved in a pair of crime busters. If they only knew what my mom did after hours.
I shifted in my seat.
“Rumors have been circling at school for the last year, and sure, some of them are complete bullshit,” Paisley continued, her voice growing thoughtful. “But more than a few have actually turned up promising information.”
My curiosity pushed past my hesitation. “This is crazy. What have you found?” I was genuinely interested. I’d always been on the other side of crime, the one hiding and keeping secrets, always afraid someone would find out.
Paisley smirked. “That is a conversation that requires pasta.”
Atlas nodded solemnly. “A lot of pasta.”
I huffed out a small laugh despite myself.
“And your vow of secrecy. Whatever we tell you doesn’t leave this circle. No one knows about our hobby, and we want to keep it that way,” Paisley explained, growing serious.
“First, I love pasta. And second, I’m incredibly good at keeping secrets.” They had no idea.
That got a grin out of Atlas. “I had a feeling about you.”
We pulled into a parking lot outside a small restaurant tucked between a tattoo shop and a closed-down movie theater with a busted marquee. The restaurant was called Marino’s, according to the neon sign in the window. It was missing the A so it just read M RINO’S in flickering red letters.
We were halfway across the parking lot, heading toward the entrance, when the door to the restaurant swung open. The smile on my lips died at the sight of Mason. And he wasn’t alone. Maddox followed a beat later.