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I’m considering whether I might have it easier if I stayed in jail with them.
Being with the crazies would be less humiliating than going anywhere with Asher.
We’re led to the front desk where Jethro, my asshole landlord, is waiting for us. I’m not surprised he’s here.
The sight of him leaning against the wall with his mottled bald head and pot belly hanging out makes my stomach churn and burn. But I notice there’s something different about his worn-down expression. It looks like fear.
Fear that doubles when his gaze flicks to Asher.
The guard heads behind the counter and Asher walks ahead of me toward Jethro.
“Did you box up Harper’s things?” Asher uses his boardroom-stern voice.
“Over there.” Jethro points to a large brown box on the floor by the visitors’ chairs.
I look up at Asher. “You got him to pack my things?”
“Of course.”
My heart softens and for a fleeting moment an unexpected comfort sparks in my soul. I haven’t felt safe in such a long time it feels foreign to me.
“The laptop had better be there.” Asher squares his shoulders and looks Jethro up and down.
“It’s there.”
“And the ring?”
Jethro hands Asher Mom’s ring. I’m shocked he didn’t already pawn it.
Asher turns to me. “Think you can hold on to it this time?”
I want to slap him hard but I take the ring when he holds it out, grateful to have it back.
“They should’ve kept you locked up for what you did to my car.” Jethro half-lunges at me. With his wide nostrils flaring he looks like a warthog.
“You should’ve been locked up too, you miserable thief,” I snap back.
“I’m the thief? You little bit?—”
Asher grips Jethro’s shoulder and gets up in his face. “Don’t finish that sentence. I already cut you a nice check. Now back the hell off and don’t mess with me. You won’t like it if you do.”
Jethro shudders and his boss-man attitude dissolves into nothing.
Asher looks at me and cocks his head toward the door. “I’ll take you to Josh’s place.”
“Okay.”
The three-hour drive with him to New York will be excruciating but I don’t have a choice, so I nod. He picks up the big box as if it weighs nothing, and we leave.
We step out into the cold, dark parking lot. I’m freezing in my tank top and jeans but I act like I’m fine.
Asher’s ritzy red Maybach stands out like a Rolls Royce in a sea of crappy cars. It looks as out of place as he does with me.
He puts my box into the trunk then opens the door on the passenger side.
I get in and the first thing I notice is that the car smells exactly like him. Like expensive cologne, European leather, and power.
While I wait for him to get in I do a mental check of all the things I owe him.
