Lie Like a Villain

Chapter 20 || Say Thank You

Rachel stood up from the sticky McDonald's table. Across from her, Jason was on his third double cheeseburger, scarfing it down like he'd never seen food before. They hadn't really eaten much yesterday, but she worried it was more than that. "Here," she said, sliding him some cash. "Get some stuff. Walmart's across the street. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

He wiped his mouth. "Where are you going?"

"To do something nice." She jammed her hair underneath her collar, just to get some of it out of her way. "Can you pick up a hair tie? And bandages for sure."

"I'll take care of it," he said. He eyed her in that uncomfortably watchful way of his. "Are you sure that splitting—"

She stuffed her hands in her hoodie pocket. "Might take me a minute."

Before he could finish his question, she slipped out the store, first jogging down the sidewalk, then twisting across streets. Each turn she came to, she picked the direction with the cracked sidewalks and the smaller buildings, turning one-eighty when she came to luxury stores and swirling letter signs. While tracking and backtracking, advertisements announced that they'd landed in Chicago.

It was a long way from her city, but she figured all cities must be sorta the same at heart.

Rachel wasn't sure when exactly her idea had taken root. Maybe it was when she noticed how, unconsciously, Jason held his wounded arm closer to his side, or how he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he wasn't going to have to climb the fence. She didn't leave her patients like that if she could do something about it.

Derelict buildings and thin, guarded people began to pass around her. The afternoon sun gleamed bright on graffiti and cleaned out the shadows. A group of boys—her age, or a little older maybe—leaned against a broken down porch, cutting up and cursing each other out. A smile twitched on her lips.

One whistled as she drew closer, and she rolled her eyes at him, hand on her hip. "What?" she sassed. "You don't got anything better to do?"

"Eyyy!" the group called, hitting each other on the shoulders, as if surprised and delighted she was playing their game.

The boy who whistled to her asked, "You got a name, ginger?"

She smirked. "Not one for you."

"She slamming you, man," another boy laughed.

Whistle leaned an elbow on the kid's shoulder. He gave Rachel a tight-lipped, cocky smile that reminded her of Rafe. "Pretty lips like hers can say whatever they like to me."

The compliment set her stomach fluttering the same way a knock at your door when you weren't expecting it does. Warning crept up her spine, a reminder that no matter how much this neighborhood might be like the one she grew up in, it wasn't. These weren't the Lost Boys, who might have each wanted to push things too far but would knock the teeth out of anyone else who tried. She wasn't under Rafe's protection here. Here, she couldn't dangle the someday I might have to save your life reminder in front of their noses and order them back into line.

But she'd come down here to do a thing and she wasn't backing down just because a bored high-schooler flirted with her.

"That so?" She strutted forward, coming close enough to lean on their rail with them. "Well, that mean I can ask anything I like too?"

"You looking for a room to spend the night, babygirl?" Whistle smirked, and some of the other boys snickered. "'Cause if that's what you were gonna ask, I might be able to help you out."

Rachel was glad her hair covered the blush warming the back of her neck. Brows raised, she eyed him like he was an idiot, then slid her eyes off him to some of the other boys. She flicked a ten dollar bill out of her sleeve, holding it between two fingers. "I was wondering if y'all know where the action is around here."