Stone Cold - Ashby Crime Family

“This is your life Bonnie Byrne, so get over yourself. No more thoughts of the dreams you once had, the life you thought you’d be leading after graduation. That life is done. Over. A story that was never written.”

My phone buzzed on the passenger seat, startling me out of my brand-new daily affirmation, and I looked at the screen. Guilt turned my empty stomach to an uncomfortable mix of acid and lava when I saw Maisie’s name on the display. She was probably worried sick about me. I didn’t want that, but I couldn’t risk Calvin’s computer tricks tracking me down, taking me back out of guilt.

The phone rang again, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, half tempted to answer just to hear Maisie’s voice. Except it wasn’t Maisie, the number was local but I didn’t know the name. I was suspicious, but this phone was my key to making money. I couldn’t let fear trump good sense, so I picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Bonnie Marie Byrne?” asked a gruff and impatient-sounding man.

“Yes, this is Bonnie.”

“Name’s Fred over at The Interstate Café. You know the diner right before you get on the interstate?”

Fred didn’t give me a chance to answer. “You filled out an application, said you’re a quick learner and looking to start yesterday. That still true?”

“It is.” I sat up straight, the unfamiliar feeling of hope starting to spark in the pit of my stomach before I could tamp it down. Temper my reaction.

“Good. Real good. Can you start today? Eleven-thirty to eight, that’s a graveyard shift and tips are good. That all right with you?”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me because this was literally the only job offer I had. There was no way I could or would turn it down. Even if I didn’t know how much it paid or what my schedule would be.

“That sounds good Fred. What should I wear?”

“Jeans and I’ll give you a t-shirt here. Most of your pay is tips so tighter jeans usually mean bigger tips, but that’s…uh…completely up to you. Of course.”

“Of course. Thanks Fred, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you, Bonnie Marie.”

I groaned at the name, hoping it didn’t stick before I got a chance to introduce myself properly. Not that it mattered. This job was a steppingstone. A way to save money for the next six months or so, and then I could leave Glitz behind and start a new life somewhere else.

“Somewhere else. That sounds nice.” That was another pipe dream, I knew. I’d probably end up in another town similar to this one, working another dead end job. Maybe two. “Well that’s a depressing way to start the day.”

And I had to face the whole day, and probably the next few days, completely sober.

Yeah, reality sucked big time.

Chapter Twenty

Cal

“This is not fucking possible.” And the fact that I continued to talk aloud to myself should have been the first clue that I needed to get some sleep. Three hours a night wasn’t doing the trick, but dammit how could I sleep when Bonnie was out there, doing who knew what to stay alive?

Two weeks had passed since she slipped out of Ashby Manor. No one had heard a word from her. That wasn’t too surprising, given everything she’d been through recently.

What did surprise me was the fact that in fourteen fucking days I hadn’t picked up her digital scent anywhere. Her parents had cut off all the credit cards issued to her on their accounts, and, good girl that she was, Bonnie didn’t have any of her own. Her checking account had just enough in it to stay open, and she hadn’t accessed it in more than a month.

Emergency Room records showed no Jane Doe patients who matched Bonnie’s description or anyone with her name. She hadn’t made an appearance in the police blotter or death notices, a fact that made me more grateful by the day. Mostly because I refused to think of the other possibility.

All I had left was hope that in this case, no news about her really was good news.

“How’s it going little brother?”

Another sign that I needed more sleep was that Kat had managed to slip past my security system again, something she hadn’t done in at least a year. “What’s up Kitty Kat?”

“I hate that name. How are you holding up?” She put her delicate hands on my shoulders and transformed them into torture devices as she made quick work of the tension I’d been holding there.

“I’m fine, Kat. Hey, do you know anything about Jack Beck?” Kat wasn’t much older than me, but she was just old enough that maybe she remembered him.

“I don’t know,” she sighed and continued working her magic on the bricks in my shoulders. “I remember there was a Jack who came around once in a while. Nice smile and a thing for those licorice ropes. I think he worked for the family, but I couldn’t say how or when.”