Lie for Me by Romily Bernard Read Free Book Online Page B

another way to earn Carson’s pay.
    Mom wobbles a bit as she turns for her bedroom door, and I realize it’s going to have to be sooner rather than later. That means going directly to Bender. Which also means going to my uncle.
    â€œWatch a movie with me?” Mom tugs at the loosened ponytail holder sliding down her hair. “It’ll only take me a minute to change.”
    No, it won’t, but if I tell her I’m not interested, it’ll be another round of You’re Just Like Your Father and I can’t handle that right now. “Yeah. Okay.”
    As soon as the bathroom door shuts, I dial Paul.
    â€œWho is this?” My uncle sounds like I’ve woken him up. I have no idea if that’s because he just went to bed or because he never got out of it.
    â€œHey, it’s Griff.”
    â€œGriff, my man. Heyyyyyy.”
    â€œLook.” I pause, listening to make sure the shower has cut on and my mom can’t hear me. “I need work. Think you can help?”
    â€œWhat kind of work?”
    â€œI heard your friend Bender might need a hand.” I pray that Paul gets so wrapped up in the compliment that Joe Bender is his friend that he doesn’t think to ask me where I “heard” about anything.
    â€œI could make a call,” he says.
    Relief makes me sag. I plug our ancient VCR into the television and look through the pile of tapes lying next to it. “Great. I appreciate you doing that.”
    â€œI’ll text you if he wants to meet. This number?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œThis could be a good opportunity for you,” Paul says, and there’s a scrape and puff on the other end as my uncle lights a cigarette. “You could forget about that pansy art shit and get a real job.”
    Like you? I want to ask. “I gotta go, Paul. Keep me posted on what he says.”
    â€œWill do—hey! Hey, Griff?”
    â€œWhat?”
    He takes one drag and then another. “You in trouble?”
    The shower shuts off. She’s singing now.
    I give the videotapes a kick. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

7
    To my surprise, Mom crashes. We’re not even twenty minutes into the VHS tape of Superman (she likes when he catches Lois Lane) and she caves, going to bed with promises to actually get up in the morning, leaving me pacing in the dark.
    There is something supremely unfair about the fact that she’ll be able to sleep tonight and I’ll be up for hours.
    I check my phone repeatedly, but there’s still no return text from Wick. If Paul can get me in, it won’t matter. She’s blowing me off and that’s fine. Not even really that surprising. We’re not friends . . .
    I flex my hand, somehow still able to feel her skin against my fingertips.
    I swallow, shake myself. I’m being an idiot. It’s not like I need Wick to respond. I can stick to the plan, go through Joe Bender. He’s Michael Tate’s right-hand monkey. Together, they run most of the meth dealing in our area and, rumor has it, expanded into credit card scamming. Tate was arrested—and escaped months ago. I don’t think anyone’s heard from him or seen him, but Carson’s point makes sense: Someone’s got to be helping him. It’s probably Bender though. He keeps their businesses going. It’s the secret people from our neighborhood know, but people from our neighborhood don’t talk about. It can get you killed.
    I lean against the kitchen counter, check my phone’s screen again. Still no text. I am officially getting blown off. I should take the hint.
    I don’t think I’m going to.
    Maybe it’s because I know I’m not going to sleep or because I’m tense or maybe it’s just because I can , but I open the browser on my phone and search for Wick’s new address. I know her foster parents’ names from some of the local newspaper articles, and after spending a few minutes