Counting Paths

Chapter 1.

Roland

We have fifteen minutes before the patrol car returns.

I grip the rim of the glass, gently swaying it in a circular motion. The faintest sound of the ice cubes dancing around in the dark alcohol fills the awkward silence suffocating us. I inhale deeply through my nose, then exhale loudly through my mouth. My jaw hurts from clenching it too much and too tightly. But I remind myself to remain calm, losing my shit right now won't get my money here any faster.

I put my glass down on the picnic table I'm currently sitting at and fold my arms in front of me. "What are you thinking?" I ask Kebin out of sheer boredom.

"Punishment? Well, they're ten minutes late so ten inches worth of their fingers."

"You can handle this, then, right?"

He nods. "Yes, sir."

I grab my decanter Whiskey glass bottle, remove the top, and pour myself another drink. I quickly finish my second drink. "Kevin, put this back in the car. I'm giving this sad excuse of life two more minutes then we're leaving." He nods and grabs my things.

He climbs into the backseat of the black SUV, returning the glass and bottle to the bar I had built into the car, when I hear the loud groan of a fucked-up engine approaching us in the abandoned park. Ryan's beaten-up, dirty blue station wagon pulls up and parks two parking spaces over.

Ryan stumbles out of his car as I reach him. "Roland, listen, I'm so s-sorry! My car broke down and-and-and I had to deal-"

"Where's my money, Ryan?" I snarl impatiently.

"It-it-it-it's right h-here," he stutters before turning away and leaning down and into his car. He reaches over the driver's seat and grabs my duffel bag off the passager's side floor. I release a heavy breath, glancing around while he struggles with the weight of the bag, and that's when I notice the sleeping kid in the back seat of his car. "Here!" He ducks out of the car, faces me again, and holds out my bag between us. "It's all t-there. I'm-I'm-I'm sorry about the delay."

I keep my eyes on the girl. It's dark in the car but under the street light, I can just barely make out the torn-up, light gray legging she's wearing and the thin, black tank top with spaghetti straps that easily expose the bruising on her neck and arms. She's in a deep sleep but there's a crease in her forehead, like she's still in pain or something. "Who's the kid?" I ask without thinking.

In the corner of my eyes, I see Ryan's face harden. Then he steps to the right, purposing stepping in my view of the girl. "No one."

My first thought is there's a chance the kid's a family member of his, but I quickly remind myself that I work with a lot of shitty people, people like Ryan that do horrible things to innocent men, women, and children just for the hell of it. Now me, I'm a fucking asshole, I'm aware of it, but I only hurt people who screw me over or put me at risk of getting caught. I'm a businessman.

I look Ryan in his red eyes. "The kid...is she related to you?"

"No, but she's-"

I snatch him by the collar of his jacket and slam him against the car. He drops the bag of clean money. "Then what the hell are you doing with her?"

"S-s-she was at the party. Said she ain't got nowhere to go."

Party? "I want the truth, what were you planning to do with her?"

He looks everywhere but my eyes and tries to shrug. "I asked around...ain't no one gonna notice her missing." I swallow the lump in my throat, hoping the knot turning in my stomach won't make me throw up. I grab him by the back of his neck and shove him to the ground. He hisses in pain but remains in his spot in the dirt.