Page 19 of About the Green

Vert seems to consider what I’ve said and I take that as a good thing. He’s back to being backup. Good. “Help me get him into the car?” I ask, grabbing the body on the ground by the ankles. “I have to hurry so I can soak my shoes. The blood will stain.”

“Least of your worries,” he bites out. “I’m not fuckin’ here to clean up your–”

Cutting him off before he says what I think it will, “It was self defense.”

“You’re playin’ with your food,” he states plainly and I drop the ankles so that I can scratch my head.

“What an odd thing to say?” I lean against the wall and straighten my outfit as best I can though there are a few sprays of blood I’ll need to address when I soak my shoes. “If you gave me something else to play with then I’d be much busier and happier.”

He stands and checks his phone, noticing blood on his hands. Giving me a droll look while holding up his hand, he says, “You wouldn’t.”

I ignore his accurate assessment and unforgiving tone. “Is it small or what?” I bend over, squinting at his crotch. “Doesn’t look it, but I’ve gotten a little out of practice with my grading. You seem like a C or D cup.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You know? Like bra sizes, but for dicks. I’d be happy with a C cup but a D would be hitting the jackpot, you know?”

“Just stay here, so I can go get your murder car.” He holds out his hand for what I assume is my keys and I fish them off my bedazzled phone case’s charm holder.

“Okay, I’ll stay here,” I repeat as he stalks over to my car after snatching them from where they dangle on my finger.

Chapter 8

I'm not thinking about my car that still sits in the parking lot as I pull away.

What I'm thinking about is how crazed Nina looked standing in that alley.

Wild eyes and unhinged to the point of action. She claimed self defense, which I don’t believe for a second.

She was doing something for herself and it wasn’t defending.

I just don’t know what that something is.

As much as I want to be pissed the fuck off about being made accomplice to what was so very obviously a murder, a messy and unplanned one, something about the way she looked standing there arrested me.

Again.

Though I've gotten very close to her actually doing it, this was the first time that I have seen the tangible evidence that she is responsible for someone's life being taken.

She played it cool, but there's something not right here.

There's something not right with her.

I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

As we drive to the one place that Dupont has set up to handle bodies, I can't help but think about how this isn't her first time going. She knows exactly what route I'm taking because I know she's taken it many times herself.

Our King is a fan of his gators. They’re as much his pets as the snakes he keeps in his estate. While this marsh is far from that property, we have a full staff that takes care of these guys. I wonder what their thoughts are on their full bellies.

These gators are getting fed well with Nina’s presence here.

"Look, I'll help you now, but I don't want this to become some sort of common thing. I'm not helpin’ you because I agree with what you're doin’ either," I tell her as she sits in the passenger seat. I know I sound like a fucking dad right now and goddamnit I can’t help it.

She's not playing on her phone for once, which is unusual given how glued she is to it. Instead, she's looking out the window, and she's eerily quiet. She's not particularly talkative except for when it comes to needling me into annoyance so that I will speak with her.

Me speaking now has broken whatever deep thought or reverie she was in. I can see when she puts on her little doll-like mask and says, "Come on, Vert, what is your problem? Why is it that you feel the need to police what I have going on? Don't you have other things you could be doing, like me, for instance?" she questions.

Here she is trying to deflect with sex, which, for any other piece of shit, would probably work. But there's something happening here.