Problem Child (Jane Doe #2) - Victoria Helen Stone Page 0,28

are laughing, loud ugly chuckles at my expense. This dumb bitch thinks I like her. What a pitiful little slut she’ll be for me. There are so many small monsters in this world.

After hurrying back to my room, I jump in the shower and wash off the travel grime. Then I pull on sexy undies and soft socks and my favorite ancient T-shirt to wait. The mattress is a little soft, but the room is warm and cozy and I settle in with a sigh. A few breathless minutes later his knock raps through the pool atrium, so I bounce up with a laugh. He’s not patient, of course, so a second knock follows close behind. “Open up, baby,” he calls.

I crack open my door to better hear him, and, right on time, loud bootsteps echo through the ceiling above me. The door swings open. “What the hell do you want?” a man upstairs growls in a deep, phlegmy voice.

“What the shit?” yelps James.

I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle giggles. I’d clearly heard the boots of two men above my head when I dropped by earlier, and James is making the acquaintance of at least one of them.

“Is . . . uh . . .” He’s realizing he never bothered getting my name. “I was supposed to meet someone here?”

“Well, fuck off. Looks like you’ll be meeting Rosie Palm tonight, you dickwad.” The man’s guffaw bounces around the high metal ceiling of the atrium before being cut in half by his slamming door. I giggle harder, my laughter trying to leak out and join in the fun.

James seems to stand silently for a long moment before he lets out a string of curses beneath his breath.

“Better luck next time!” some asshole calls from farther down the row of rooms, and I have to close my door to hide my snorting.

“Fuck you straight to hell!” James snarls out before I hear his boots stomping down the nearest set of stairs. When I peek out the open curtains of my window, I see him charging toward the front entry, a beer and a tumbler still clutched in his fists. If I’d stayed dressed, I could have followed him back to spy on his ignominious return to the bar, but, oh well. I’ve chosen comfort over entertainment this time.

Utterly pleased with myself, I retrieve my cookies and grab my book before turning off the lights and climbing into bed. The curtains are still parted. I love to watch people going by, especially when they’re unaware. It’s like watching TV, their little lives playing out for me to see.

I like this place.

Send me that pic when you’re in bed, I text to Luke. Then I tuck myself in for a great drunk evening of dessert, reading, and masturbation. What more could a girl ask for on a chilly autumn night?

CHAPTER 7

My hometown is about ten minutes outside of the county seat. It isn’t much. There are no government offices here. No retail shops. It’s big enough for a pitifully small school, but not big enough for a McDonald’s. There’s no Dairy Queen either. No Sonic. The only thing the population can support is a knockoff drive-in called Taste ’n Freeze that’s only open during the summer.

Taste ’n Freeze. What the fuck does that even mean?

But even the Taste ’n Freeze looks permanently boarded up as I approach the edge of town. And I was wrong about the retail. There’s a brand-new dollar store that cropped up next to the ancient gas station.

Beyond the new store, there are other changes. The one run-down motel has been converted into a cheap studio apartment complex by the looks of the hand-painted sign propped on the roof. Half the doors are open to let out cigarette smoke and welcome in fresh air.

A ragged old coffee joint has been turned into a high-interest loan company decked out in shiny yellows and blues to make signing your meager earnings away seem more fun. The used-car lot next door is now just empty asphalt and destroyed light poles. Otherwise, things look pretty much the same. I pass the street that leads to my parents’ home and drive toward the narrow steam cloud that climbs into the sky like the grasping, greedy arm of some lowly god.

The smoke is attached to the huge white tower that looms above the power plant. I hate that damn plant with a passion. I scowl as I drive by, because I know that