“It’s Digby, let me up.” I press the buzzer and wave my arms frantically at Aria to hide any evidence of our plotting. The coffee table has notebooks full of Digby’s daily schedule, anything useful we’ve dug up on his family, friends, or personal life. With all of our recognizance work, we would have made fine detectives.
Slamming the last of the evidence into a kitchen drawer, I open the door for the biggest douchebag the world has ever seen. “Hi handsome,” I place my hands on his chest and croon up at him.
“Mallory,” he wraps a hand around my ass and pulls me into him. “I stopped by to ask if you’re coming to my place to work tonight?”
“Hi, Digby!” Aria waves like a rabid fangirl from the kitchen, drawing his attention away. Not only is she the best friend a brokenhearted girl needs, but she’s been my scapegoat. I can’t possibly stay at Digby’s place because Aria is in town. Never a moment of intimacy because that darned Aria is always underfoot.
“Aria,” he sighs when he sees her. “Still in town, are we?”
“She’s your biggest fan, be nice, baby,” I gush at him and pull his chin back to look at me and nibble my bottom lip. I know exactly how to work this idiot. Just dangle a shiny object in front of him and stroke his ego and he can’t help himself.
Moron.
“Mmm,” he moans at me, “she could join us, you know.” He wags his eyebrows in Aria’s direction.
“I want you all to myself,” I purr and run my fingers along his belt loop. I want you all to myself alright, in a prison cell, you creep. I don’t imagine the spoiled rich boy will actually do any time, his kind of money can buy all the fancy lawyers he’ll need to avoid jail. He just needs to get permanently ejected from Formula 1. But it still brings me unbridled joy to imagine this spoiled rich boy in prison with proper inmates.
“Naughty girl,” he runs a finger down my throat and past my cleavage.
“Soon,” I whimper like an Emmy Award winning actress on a daytime soap opera.
He tells me we’ll be traveling together to the race in Silverstone in two days. I feign excitement. Then he slaps me on the ass and slithers out of the flat to whatever rock he lives under.
As soon as we hear the exterior door shut, Aria and I jump around as if we’re covered in spiders and trying to brush them off.
“Did he seriously just suggest a threesome?” Aria shakes her arms and shivers in disgust.
“I’m going to throw up, oh my god he’s such a creep!”
After we’ve both washed our hands and arms with antibacterial soap and Aria comments that we’re going to have to sage the flat to get his evil out of the building, it’s time to get back to plotting.
This has to happen quickly. I don’t know how long his phone will keep those videos in the Recently Deleted folder and I don’t know if they can be recovered after that. Plus, the Silverstone race is the home race for Celeritas. I want to take them all down on their home turf where it will hurt the most.
They’re all going to pay, like in one of the greatest horror movies of all time, Stephen King’s 1976 classic, Carrie. When they dumped a bucket of blood on her at prom and girlfriend had had enough, these fuckers are going to pay.
Ok, so maybe there won’t be buckets of blood, I don’t think, but they’re gonna pay.
After an exhaustive Googling, like the professional sleuths we are, I’ve decided that I need to just take the whole phone. There might not be time to send the videos, the wifi could be down, there are too many variables. I need to take the whole phone and pray the videos are still on there or else we’ll have to get high tech. Aria is still investigating what our options look like if we have to pay someone to get deleted files off or figure out if the videos are in Digby’s cloud.
I’m going to have to take the phone and make a run for it. It has to work, it just has to.
“Ok, so Stage One is finalized. We need to cement the steps for Stage Two, you have to be sure.” Aria says.
“You’re frightening when you’re so cold and calculating,” I snicker.
“Me? You’re the one over there cackling about buckets of blood!”
But, she’s right. I’ve been dawdling over Stage Two. It’s time to put up or shut up. I pick up my phone.
“Hey, Cody, can you talk?”
???
I am trembling with nerves, shaking so bad my voice is wavering. It’s time. Stages One and Two have been finalized. Stage Three depends on how tonight goes but my crew and I are ready to pull the trigger.
I have a crew, because that’s how I roll, now.
“Buck up, buttercup,” Aria tells me from our hiding location outside the Celeritas administration building where we’ve stalked Digby to. We’ve monitored his schedule and he’s right on time where he should be. There’s no more time to spare. Everything is in place. It’s now or never.