See Her Gone by Rylie Dark

Author:Rylie Dark [Dark, Rylie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rylie Dark
Published: 2022-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

By the time Cal Shoemaker finished partying it up with the rest of his boys, it was after two.

This was his life, and it was a good one. All the suckers from high school told him that he’d never make anything of himself, because he failed math and science and English class. That had been bullshit. He didn’t want to be a stupid pencil-pusher, a bank teller, or some worthless job like that. They could have those jobs.

Now, he had a sweet BMW, his pockets were flush with cash, and he got all the tail he wanted. Half the park was addicted to his supply, so he had no shortage of customers. He was on track to afford one of those sprawling lakeside mansions in another year or two.

Not that he wanted to do that. He liked it here, with his homeboys, close to his clientele.

He finished the joint he was smoking and stubbed it out in front of his trailer. Then, taking a swig of his near-empty beer, he climbed the steps and went inside, petting his cat Twister. He tossed the bottle in the sink with the other empties, then opened his fridge and fished out another one.

Settling down into his recliner, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television, flipping the channels until he found an older Marvel movie. He kicked off his flip-flops, took a swig, and let his eyes fall closed. Usually, this was right where he slept, and he didn’t mind it. So many of his friends had moved in with their girlfriends, but that wasn’t him. No hitch to a bitch, he told his buddies when they asked. He smiled, thinking that none of those whipped assholes would ever be able to fall asleep in front of the television, not with their bossy girls ordering them around. He liked being alone, king of his domain.

Yeah, he had it pretty good.

As he was half-watching the television, letting the bottle droop into the space between the cushion and the arm of the velvet recliner as he began to nod off, there came a knock at the door.

He blinked awake, sure at first that he’d imagined it. Twister was sitting on the coffee table, though, ears perked, alert. She’d heard something.

Cal checked the clock. After three. “Who the hell could that be?” he mumbled, rising to his feet, wondering if it was Frankie. Frankie, down the street, had told him he needed some stuff and would be by asap. Cal hadn’t thought this soon, but who knew? Maybe Frankie was desperate. The man had been a full-fledged heroin addict for years. Cal kept expecting his OD, any day now.

Ordinarily, he would’ve told Frankie to screw himself, come back tomorrow. But it was a thousand bucks he was talking about. He could manage.

Rubbing the bleariness from his eyes, he reached into the stash he kept in his coffee table, grabbed the plastic bag, and went to the door. Pulling it open, he said, “You weren’t

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