Whitewashed

A Blind Eye

Chapter 7: A Blind Eye

I start awake as my phone gives a loud buzzing sound. My fingers daftly probe through my purse until I find it, bringing the device to my ear. I sit up a little bit, right hip protesting, "Hello?"

"Brooklyn," Liam's honey sweet voice comes out of the speaker.

"Oh, sorry," I say around a yawn. "I was napping."

"You had me concerned for a moment there. This was the second time I called you."

"Sorry again," I give a small, nervous laugh. There is something off about the way he is speaking, but I can't pinpoint it. "Anyway, need something?"

"I was kind of hoping we could spend some time together. I haven't seen much of you around and honestly, I'm not okay with that statement," Liam says these words quickly, but not nervously.

They kind of make me suspicious, suspicious of him possibly being suspicious.

He couldn't have made that connection. Right? That I am in a gang.

It isn't until then that I realize how pathetic that sounds, but until I know for sure, I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Letting out a low hum, thinking of my deal with POGs, I run my fingers through my hair, "I'll try, but I'm going to be really busy-"

"I just want to see you," Liam murmurs with a tone that breaks my heart.

"Don't worry, I'll try and get off of work on time," I assure, pressing the phone closer to my ear. "I promise."

"Please, tonight."

Another decision to make.

Someone, likely Prints or POGs, is going to pick me up after my shift- but Liam...

He is suspicious and lonely and I love him- but Tommo...

I guess there is no harm in asking to go home for a bit to appease a worried friend, right? Whoever is picking me up would understand. An image of each of the possible people flashes through my mind. POGs, Prints, Tommo, Tats.

Well alright, with Little Man and Haz out of the count, my odds are fifty, fifty.

I guess my best chance at making this right will be finding a way to weasel out of my little play date with Liam. It pains me, but risking my life AND his life for an hour or two of quality time isn't worth it, despite possible suspicion.

I'll take prison over death any day.

Taking in a small breath, I nod, mostly for my benefit, "Yeah. I'll try my best to get out on time, but no guarantees."

"Just know that I'll be waiting," Liam gives a light laugh. "Have a good day."

"You too."

"Be safe."

I hang up the phone without a response. Those words make me sick. Sick to the stomach, sick in the mind. I feel guilty. Why? I'm not exactly sure. Guilty because I am lying to... to EVERYONE?

Liam doesn't know the truth.

Tommo doesn't know the truth.

What Haz knows is almost all lies.

No one knows our exact circumstances, not even me and I am the center of it.

I need someone to talk to, but there is no one who could handle this fragile information without being pressured into telling either Tommo or the police.

I have friends, sure, but none of them are up to this task.

They are all far away now anyways.

Maybe Trina can help. I don't know her well, but if I am vague enough she may be a confidant candidate. I go to work that day with as fresh a mindset as possible. Whenever I have the chance, I tell her something small. It starts out with facts about Liam and then morphs into our relationship dynamics. She seems mostly disinterested, which only makes me want to tell her more.