The Deal Breaker (Book II)

Chapter Twenty-Two - Thicker Than Water

                                                      Chapter Twenty-Two

                                                       Thicker Than Water

It was difficult for me to just sit around the house, waiting for my sister to call my cell. I wanted to do something, to search every street for Cindy. I knew I wouldn’t just stumble upon her. One day I actually did hop into my truck and began looking for her, which led me to find a couch someone was throwing out. After seeing that I was on a mission to continue fixing my house. It wasn’t for me, but instead for my sister. I wanted her to come to a comforting place.

Day four and I found myself a bed super cheap, a kitchen table left by a dumpster, and several mismatched chairs. I only managed to get all of it in the house by myself with sheer will power. Sure the furniture was crappy, but it was the first bit of furniture I’ve ever owned. It almost became an obsession of mine to fix up the house until it felt cozy, which was tough when I only had a window unit air conditioner I bought used. Going upstairs—up the stairs I repaired myself, I might add—was hell because of the heat. I focused on cleaning and painting and staining and repairing. My fingers were wrapped in band aids and paint, and my knees were cut up from crawling around as I stained the dining room furniture. That’s what I was doing when my phone rang.

I dropped the brush instantly and lunged for my phone on the plush, recently scrubbed of the smell of butt and pizza, red couch. “Hello?” I answered breathlessly.

Breathing, coughing, and a sniffle was their reply.

“Cindy? Cindy, is that you?”

“…What do you want, Joanna?” she replied, her voice almost unrecognizable to me.

I slumped against the arm of the couch and sighed in relief. For the past five days I’ve been picturing her body decaying under eight feet of dirt. “I heard about the trouble you’re in and I’m here to help.”

“…I don’t need your help.”

Yup, she’s definitely related to me. How was I to convince someone who was related to me to take the help offered to them? “Just meet me at the place we used to eat at when we were kids around five. It’s your choice whether you show up or not.”

The phone beeped, indicating she had hung up on me.

I slid the phone into my back pocket as I carefully brushed the wild strands of hair away with my stained up hands. I knew it was the only way to make her come and see me; make it seem like I don’t care whether she shows or not. It’d work on me, at least. My curiosity would have spiked.

According to my phone, it was almost three as it was. I had a near two-hour drive ahead to get to the place I told her to go. I immediately washed myself off with a hose outside before pulling on some recently hand washed jeans and a tank top. I left Buddy at home again because I didn’t want him scaring her or anything. I left him inside of the house before driving off like a mad man down the country road.

It was almost six o’clock in the evening. I had been sitting in the booth for well over an hour as I nervously chewed at the skin around my nails.

“Can I get you anything else…?” asked the waitress who had been subtly hinting for me to leave for half an hour now.

I looked down at the glass of water I’ve had refilled three times already. “I’m fine right now, thanks.”

It took several seconds of glaring before she finally went back to her stool behind the counter. This place was dead. It was about the size of an RV, making only enough room for four tables, a counter, and a few kitchen appliances. The mustard yellow booths all were worn from years of wear, the white tile has become yellowed and stained, and the tables were covered in carvings and scribbles. The lighting was similar to that of a hospital: white and sterile. I stared out through the cracked window and out into the dark parking lot with only one lamp of light.