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“Smartass.”
Once Zak left, I turned to Lennon. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “That guy wasn’t asking about the fundraiser.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wanted to know about my Dad.”
Daria slumped into a folding chair. “I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.”
“Same,” I agreed.
Nonstop service for four hours straight gave me a whole new appreciation for anyone who worked in the restaurant industry. I never fully understood the term ‘dinner rush’ until I experienced it for myself. Utter madness. That’s what it was. At one point, the supply of spaghetti became dangerously low. Lennon didn’t panic, though. She floated around the kitchen like she was on cloud nine. Before we knew it, she’d whipped up another huge container of pasta.
“That was amazing,” Lennon gushed.
“Girl, you need to get out more.”
“Ignore her. Daria gets grumpy when she works up a sweat.”
“I’m a physical therapist,” she pointed to herself. “Getting physical is literally part of my job description.”
“Then how about getting physical by helping me take the trash out to the dumpster.”
Lennon tossed a dish rag in the sink. “I’m done wiping down the stove. I’ll help too.”
The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky a coppery-orange, by the time we stepped out the back door of the church. Our hands were full of empty boxes and bags as we followed a path around the corner of the building. I fully expected to encounter one of Zak’s men, since I knew he’d posted several outside. When we didn’t, I figured he pulled them all in to help clean up. Regardless, it made me uneasy. I quickened my pace when I saw the dumpster sitting at the edge of a tree line about seventy-five yards away.
“Anyone else feel like we’re the dumb girls in a slasher movie?” Daria asked.
“Oh, good. I thought it was just me,” Lennon uttered.
“Nothing’s going to happen. There are three of us.”
“That’s exactly what the bikini-clad girls in every horror film thought just before the bad guy hacked them up.”
Served me right for letting her stay up late when we were younger to watch the classics; Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Friday the 13th. Fifteen years later, and I’m still paying for my poor decisions. If I could go back in time, I’d smack my teenage self. Since that wasn’t possible, I’d have to settle for making idle threats in the present.
“For fuck’s sake, Daria. I’m going to disown you if you don’t knock it off.”
She gasped sarcastically. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Without having to see it, I knew she had just stuck her tongue out at me because I would’ve done the same if the roles were reversed. It wasn’t exactly a sister thing; it was a me and Daria thing. Our upbringing, or lack there of, was to blame for how well we knew each other. Did she annoy me? Hell yes. Mostly though, I loved her to distraction.
“I wish I had a sister.”
“You can borrow mine anytime you want, Lennon. Free of charge.”
“You’d be lost without me, Pru.”
“Yeah, I would.”
One by one, we tossed the trash in the dumpster. When we turned to head back to the church a figure blocked our path. Even with the dim lighting, I recognized the gnarly scar slashing through his face. My breaths turned to pants instantly, and my palms grew damp with sweat. It was the man who terrorized me with his knife in the warehouse. The same man who pushed me into the street a few weeks ago. How was he here?
“You should’ve listened to your friends earlier. Three little girls alone at night…easy pickings.”
