Read Online The Inheritance (Volume Three) by Zelda Reed - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Zelda Reed
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Suzanne, her blue eyes growing wide as she stares down the barrel.
“Let’s go,” she says, turning on her heels and heading down the hall.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Suzanne, grabbing my purse and stepping into the hall.
She stares at me, mouth dropped open. “But I cleared my whole afternoon for this.”
“Maybe some other time,” I say, waving my hands. Get the fuck out.
A sharp noise grows in the back of her throat, matching the pitch of her heels against the floor. The elevator doors ding open. Alanis steps inside. I lock the condo door and rush to meet her, Suzanne hot on my heels.
“Some other time,” Suzanne says, testing the words on her tongue. “You know, I’m very busy, Caitlin. I can’t just drop everything for you.”
“Aren’t you a blogger?” I ask, stepping inside the elevator. “Don’t you set your own schedule?”
“Yes,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear, flashing her ring for Alanis to see. “But Justin springs plans on me all the time and you know I can’t tell him ‘no’.” Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag as she looks Alanis up and down. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t I come with the two of you?”
“No,” Alanis says.
Suzanne smiles tightly. “I wasn’t asking you,” she says. Then to me, “What do you think?”
The elevator doors slide open at the lobby. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
A wave of anger flashes across Suzanne’s face. I remember that look. The bratty teenage pout, the flicker of a threat in her eyes and the small sliver of fear that used to run through me. I’m too old for that now, to quiver beneath her lipstick covered mouth and mascaraed eyes.
“Fine,” she says, following us to the revolving door. “But don’t come crying to me when they find your boyfriend’s body washed up on the beach.”
Nine
“Just follow my lead.” Alanis tells me this as she parks the car across the street from Yo Jin’s Chinese Restaurant.
The front door is covered in thick bars, white like the dirty awning hanging over it. There’s a purple carpet, leading to the door, covered in black and brown footprints, dirt and grime tattooed on the fabric.
I’ve never been to the South Side before. It’s more desolate than I imagined, quieter too. On the news they paint it up to be a war zone, filled with the sound of gun shots and mother’s crying over the bleeding bodies of their sons. Drug deals take place on every corner and girls like me will certainly be attacked on sight. I’ve prepared myself for the worst and yet there’s no one on our street. The businesses have been boarded up, the train tracks are rusted and unused.
Alanis confidently strolls across the street. She’s brought a black leather jacket that hangs over her arm, covering the bulky gun at her thigh. In my purse she’s stuffed an envelope full of cash and the papers to the property Neal signed this morning. I don’t ask how he reacted when he realized the property was in his name and she doesn’t bring it up.
The restaurant’s door opens easily. Alanis leads the way into a small space with micro-tables, lines of booths, and sea foam green paint. The carpet’s as purple and stained as the strip outside, the air smells of seafood and tea. A half-wall topped with murky, decorated glass blocks us from seeing into the restaurant.
A round of laughter is stiffened by a closed door.
A small Asian woman greets us with a lazy smile and empty hands. “I’m sorry,” she says, waving us away. “We’re closed.”
Alanis digs into my purse. She pulls out the wad of cash, fans it in her hands. “Are you?” she says.
The woman glances down at the money, counts it quickly in her head. Her smile grows and she grabs two menus from the kiosk set up against the wall.
Laughter seeps from the other side of the restaurant. A faint wave of cigarettes moves through the air, clouding over our heads, painting the room in a gray haze. We order two
“Let’s go,” she says, turning on her heels and heading down the hall.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Suzanne, grabbing my purse and stepping into the hall.
She stares at me, mouth dropped open. “But I cleared my whole afternoon for this.”
“Maybe some other time,” I say, waving my hands. Get the fuck out.
A sharp noise grows in the back of her throat, matching the pitch of her heels against the floor. The elevator doors ding open. Alanis steps inside. I lock the condo door and rush to meet her, Suzanne hot on my heels.
“Some other time,” Suzanne says, testing the words on her tongue. “You know, I’m very busy, Caitlin. I can’t just drop everything for you.”
“Aren’t you a blogger?” I ask, stepping inside the elevator. “Don’t you set your own schedule?”
“Yes,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear, flashing her ring for Alanis to see. “But Justin springs plans on me all the time and you know I can’t tell him ‘no’.” Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag as she looks Alanis up and down. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t I come with the two of you?”
“No,” Alanis says.
Suzanne smiles tightly. “I wasn’t asking you,” she says. Then to me, “What do you think?”
The elevator doors slide open at the lobby. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
A wave of anger flashes across Suzanne’s face. I remember that look. The bratty teenage pout, the flicker of a threat in her eyes and the small sliver of fear that used to run through me. I’m too old for that now, to quiver beneath her lipstick covered mouth and mascaraed eyes.
“Fine,” she says, following us to the revolving door. “But don’t come crying to me when they find your boyfriend’s body washed up on the beach.”
Nine
“Just follow my lead.” Alanis tells me this as she parks the car across the street from Yo Jin’s Chinese Restaurant.
The front door is covered in thick bars, white like the dirty awning hanging over it. There’s a purple carpet, leading to the door, covered in black and brown footprints, dirt and grime tattooed on the fabric.
I’ve never been to the South Side before. It’s more desolate than I imagined, quieter too. On the news they paint it up to be a war zone, filled with the sound of gun shots and mother’s crying over the bleeding bodies of their sons. Drug deals take place on every corner and girls like me will certainly be attacked on sight. I’ve prepared myself for the worst and yet there’s no one on our street. The businesses have been boarded up, the train tracks are rusted and unused.
Alanis confidently strolls across the street. She’s brought a black leather jacket that hangs over her arm, covering the bulky gun at her thigh. In my purse she’s stuffed an envelope full of cash and the papers to the property Neal signed this morning. I don’t ask how he reacted when he realized the property was in his name and she doesn’t bring it up.
The restaurant’s door opens easily. Alanis leads the way into a small space with micro-tables, lines of booths, and sea foam green paint. The carpet’s as purple and stained as the strip outside, the air smells of seafood and tea. A half-wall topped with murky, decorated glass blocks us from seeing into the restaurant.
A round of laughter is stiffened by a closed door.
A small Asian woman greets us with a lazy smile and empty hands. “I’m sorry,” she says, waving us away. “We’re closed.”
Alanis digs into my purse. She pulls out the wad of cash, fans it in her hands. “Are you?” she says.
The woman glances down at the money, counts it quickly in her head. Her smile grows and she grabs two menus from the kiosk set up against the wall.
Laughter seeps from the other side of the restaurant. A faint wave of cigarettes moves through the air, clouding over our heads, painting the room in a gray haze. We order two
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