Thorn in My Side by Skuse C. J

Author:Skuse, C. J. [Skuse, C. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Mystery, Crime, Suspense
Amazon: B0CCKCHMC7
Goodreads: 194027112
Publisher: HQ Digital
Published: 2023-12-28T08:00:00+00:00

Saturday, 25 September 2021 – my unofficial birthday

People with overly white teeth

Larry Nassar

That perv gynaecologist who used his sperm to impregnate his patients

That Hitler fanboy who shot up a school in California but didn’t have the decency to shoot himself

The people who tweeted about microchips in vaccines from phones with whole-ass GPS trackers in them

Brad Pfister has been texting me relentlessly all week and I’ve been watching the texts getting longer and angrier and more beggy and it’s been mildly entertaining as he’s gone from threat to accusation to threat to beg to full-on I’m going to commit suicide if I don’t get that phone back right fucking now.

Like that kinda threat ever cut any ice with me.

But I had a job for a certain someone to do and for some reason I thought it would suit him, what with him being so eager to get his grubby little wank bank back. So I called him – I was outside watering the plants.

‘I did what you said last week. I want my phone now.’

‘Do you want ten thousand dollars?’

‘What?’

‘Answer the question first: do you want ten thousand dollars?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK, so I have one more task for you—’

‘—no, nuh-uh, no way, I want my phone back, right now.’

‘Well, I thought you might say that so that’s why I mentioned the ten thousand. You could have it in your bank account this afternoon, how bow dah?’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘I have one more task. You did the last one beautifully, by the way. The ketchup squirting was on point, bravo, seriously.’ I stroked the soft orange bell-shaped flowers on the brugmansia, all fat with new seeds.

‘What about my phone?’ he said. ‘When do I get my phone?’

‘I’ll give you ten thousand dollars today, and, let’s say, another forty thousand plus your phone, intact, after you complete the task. Then we’re done.’

‘What the fuck?’

‘Ten grand now, and another forty and your phone when you’re through.’ I text him the photo of the open shoebox. ‘Think what you could do with all this. Think of all the women’s locker rooms it’d give you access to.’

‘Why the hell would you give me fifty thousand dollars? And how can I be sure that’s not some stock image off the internet?’

‘Oh you need proof? OK, here’s a live image of the same box.’ I snapped another photo with my middle index finger in shot and pinged it his way. The message connected. Two blue ticks.

‘Are you serious right now?’

‘As cancer. So will you do this or not?’ A bee buzzed in the lavender patch. I think it was my bee. I like to think that buzz was saying, Hi, matey! Thanks for saving me!

‘What do I have to do?’

‘Is that a yes or a no?’

‘Depends. I don’t trust you.’

‘I don’t blame you. OK, so I need you to go to San Francisco for a week. Take Carole and Andy if you like. Tell them you won a competition. Most Prolific Upskirter in the Bay Area . . .’

‘What am I supposed to do in San Francisco for a week?’

‘See the sights.

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