Banshee | $crim

4. Harpy

Since I didn't have my keys, Scrim drove me somewhere else. This house was even bigger than the one I had visited just a week prior. The lawn was green, even in the dark, and had a pull-around driveway.

"We'll stay here until Ruby is done," he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He walked me up the steps and through the massive front door. "Do you want to shower?"

I nodded and he led me through the house. I could tell he lived here in many ways. Firstly, the house just looked lived-in with shoes scattered by the front door, and dishes by the sink. There were also family pictures that I caught a glimpse of in the living room.

The master bathroom was something out of a magazine, with marble tile and gold fixtures. A giant tub was the focal piece, probably the size of a small hot tub. He handed me towels and a change of clothes from his closet. As he set the clothes in my hands, the reality of what was happening hit me and I started crying. Scrim somehow looked uncomfortable and empathetic at the same time, probably unsure of how to handle it himself.

"I'm sorry," I said, wiping my tears. "I'm just overwhelmed."

"Do you...do you want a pill?" he suggested, even his voice showing his discomfort at a crying, strange woman in his bathroom.

"What do you have?" He pulled a full bottle of Xanax from his pocket and dropped a half pill into my hand. Despite everything, a lightbulb turned on in my head. "Do you have a card or something to crush it with?"

Scrim opened his wallet and handed me a credit card without his name on it. I didn't know he was into the stolen credit card business, but whoever Scott A Arceneaux jr is, I bet their credit is tanked now.

I crushed the pill into a powder and formed it into lines, offering Scrim the first line.

"I don't use anymore," he said. I could've swore he did a bump with us the other day, but I guess it's smart not to get high on what you're selling.

Scrim left me alone while I bathed. I can't remember the last time I took an actual bath, but I know it was nothing like this tub. This tub has jets and enough room to lay down with only my head exposed. The water, and Xanax, relaxed me in a way that I hadn't felt in a long time.

Nearly 45 minutes went by before I got out of the bathtub. My fingers were wrinkly from soaking for so long and I had almost fallen asleep. Scrim was sitting on the bed when I walked out of the bathroom, watching videos on his phone. His clothes were too big for me, but in a comfy way.

"How was it?" he asked. I shrugged but told him I felt better. "Ruby isn't back yet. Are you hungry? We can order something."

"I can't pay you back," I replied. Most of the money they gave us was gone, either going to the last few months of rent we still owed or to the car that was totaled a few months ago, but I still had to keep paying for. Scrim shook his head and told me not to worry about it; he just wanted to know what I wanted. "Chinese?"

The food arrived in almost record time. He led me to the living room, where the family photos I had seen earlier had mysteriously vanished from the mantle. I suppose, for someone in his position, it's better to err on the side of caution.

We sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, not saying much as we ate. He turned on a movie to fill the void of silence. Eventually, we finished our food and retired to the couch. He sat on the end of the couch, putting his feet up on the ottoman. I sat next to him, at first at a reasonable distance, but he eventually pulled me in until I found myself with my head resting on his lap. I fell asleep, sometime during the second movie, with Scrim's hand massaging my hair.

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Scrim started to get up from the couch, gently laying my head on a pillow as he did so. I was so tired that I pretended to stay asleep, hoping to drift back into dreamland. Another movie was playing, or perhaps the same one; I couldn't tell.

"I got that stuff you asked for," a voice from the foyer said. I didn't recognize it. "I don't know what you're getting into these days."

"Thanks, man," Scrim said back.

"I didn't realize you had company," the other person said, trying hard to keep their voice low. "Is that fucking Penny? Chetta's recruit?"

"It's a long story."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Scott? Why is she in your house?"

"It's a long story," Scrim said, firmer this time.

"I don't think you realize what kind of trouble this could bring, dude."

"And I don't think you're in a place to be commenting on what I do."

The front door shut, and Scrim came back to the couch. As quietly as he could, he covered me with a blanket and sat back on the couch. His hand moved back to my hair before I fell asleep again.

I woke up sometime in the morning, the smell of breakfast emanating from the kitchen. This time, I didn't fall back asleep but wandered into the kitchen. Scrim was cooking French toast, like he's some sort of atomic housewife.

"You hungry?" he asked. He didn't wait for a response before putting a few pieces of toast on a plate and pushing it towards me, which I gladly ate. "Ruby dropped your stuff off, by the way. You were sleeping when he came by, so I didn't want to wake you."

Mabel had blown it up throughout the night, claiming that she'll call the police if I'm not home in the morning. I assured her I was safe before turning my attention back to Scrim.

"Anyway, last night felt like the wrong time to bring it up but I need you and your friend to do another run for us."

"Another one? We just got back from Miami."

"No one suspects two hot girls just going on vacation. Do you want the job or not? I'd gladly give it to someone who wants it."

"No, we'll do it."

"Good. Your next stop is El Paso, Texas."

He started quickly shooing me out the door as soon as I finished my breakfast. I asked if I could come back soon, but he just gave me a sad look.

"Look, the sex was nice, but this isn't going to be a habit."

My heart sank and I felt fifteen all over again. Despite all that happened, last night felt like a real date, but one moment he was sweet and the next I just felt like a warm body to him. I didn't dare argue with him.