Sam split open the top of the bag of
M&Ms, tipped half a handful out and threw his head back. The taste filled
his mouth and he smiled as he crunched them into chocolatey paste. That hit the
spot: a charge of energy and taste that sharpened his resolve immediately. He
knew exactly what to do now: find Molly and do whatever he had to do to her to
make her talk.
The motel proprietor sat like a
vulture behind the counter, peaked shoulders and sweaty unshaven face. The wall
behind him was covered in postcards. No threat at all. Just an irritating
necessity that didn’t require The Lie. Sam openly sneered. “Cover yourself up
you fat ugly shit.”
The proprietor stared at him, hostile
but fearful. It felt good to let The Lie drop so casually for a change, to say
what he really felt. The proprietor’s eyes flicked from Sam to the girl on the
phone against the wall and then back again.
Sam turned to go toward the double glass
doors that led through toward the car park, his eyes falling back to her: tight
yellow tank top that exposed her delicate wrists and slender arms; short skirt,
heels that accentuated her calf muscles. She was trembling.
He stopped walking.
It was her. Here. She’d followed him.
He smiled.
“Miss Butler. I was hoping we’d get
the chance to talk again.”
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