Page 8 of Pocketful of Shame
"Trust no one, Romi. It's a lie. All of it. Don’t trust these people. Protect my brother and get out of Pocketful." A pained groan filled my ears before he continued, "Don't let him avenge me. He'll die trying –"
A horrendous banging noise tore through the night, piercing my ears and causing my heart to flatline.
I knew that sound.
Gunshot.
For a few terrified moments, I remained frozen to the spot in the dark street, eyes wide and mouth agape, while I tried to register where the noise had come from. It sounded close, too close for comfort, too close to come from the other side of a phone.
Panic stricken, I looked around, seeking help and finding nothing. Dread settled deep in my stomach. Something wasn't right. Where was everyone?
"Chris?" I breathed, panting erratically into the phone. Pressing a hand to my chest, I backed up against the nearest wall and whispered, "Are you still there?"
Nothing.
Oh god, this is bad.
"Chris?" I squeezed out, trembling from head to toe. "Please answer me."
Silence.
This is so bad.
The sound of my own breathing, loud and uneven, filled my ears and I pushed off the wall, feet moving me forward against my better judgement. Scurrying down another alleyway, I continued to sob into the phone. "Chris?" Sniffling, I tripped over my own high heel before quickly righting myself. "Please don’t do this to me. Keep talking. Please!"
"That's enough, boys," a male voice boomed, causing my feet to halt and my heartrate to spike to dangerous levels. "Pretty boy's a goner."
In the distance, at the very end of the unlit street, four looming shapes came into focus. Eyes squinting, I forced myself to make sense of what I was seeing, witnessing. A familiar, silver Range Rover parked up ahead, and the men from the restaurant next to it. All four men were there, standing over a slumped figure on the ground.
I could hear the man's voice both floating through the air and through the phone, and it was at that exact moment that I knew it was Chris he was referring to.
"Kid's finished," one of them said. "Bleeding out like a stuck pig. Be dead in an hour. Nice and slow. Painful as promised."
"Take the damn picture and let's bounce," another one said. "I don’t like this."
"Don’t like what?"
"Being out in the open like this."
The first one chuckled darkly. "The boss man's untouchable, asshole."
"Hear that, kid?" Rearing back, one of the men kicked the limp frame on the ground. "You can't win in this world. The good guys always finish last."
"Yeah," the cruel-voiced one sneered. "And snitches get stitches, little man."
"Or caskets, in your case."
"Thought you were so damn smart, didn’t you? Gave us a good chase, too, kid. Running us around in circles for months, thinking you were actually gonna outsmart us. Should have kept your nose out of business that didn’t concern you." The man laughed harshly. "You know, I'm actually gonna miss this little game of cat and mouse we've had going."
Slapping a hand over my mouth, I slowly backtracked, not stopping until my body was pressed firmly against the side of a dumpster. Keeping a death grip on my phone, I slowly lowered myself to the ground, ignoring the puddle of muddy water I was kneeling in.
"What about the girl he was with?" another voice asked, and I had to bury my face in the curve of my elbow to keep from screaming. "Should we go back for her?"
"No…" a gurgling voice cried. "She doesn’t…know…anything."
Oh god, Chris!
"Ah, don’t worry, kid," the first guy said. "We ain't gonna touch your pretty little girlfriend tonight. Boss man's got bigger plans for that pussy."
