Today's Promises by S.R. Grey Read Free Book Online Page B

were deciding to trespass?” I add.
    “He waited in the truck. I told him to keep guard in case someone showed up. You know, seeing as we weren’t supposed to be up there snooping around in the first place. He’d told me earlier that the state cops have been stepping up patrols to keep the party crowd out.”
    “Well then, that was some good thinking on your part.”
    I smile over at Flynn, but he’s busy staring out the window, out into the dark night.
    “You should see it, Jaynie,” he says, at last. “It’s all fucked-up. The house is in pretty bad shape. Looks like midnight plumbers have hit it up a time or two…or ten.”
    Midnight plumbers are vandals who raid abandoned buildings for copper pipes and scrap metal to sell.
    “I’m not surprised,” I reply. “I’m sure there are plenty of pipes and stuff to rip off in that house.”
    Bad things happened there, but it was a nice house, aesthetically speaking.
    Flynn nods. “Yeah, there’s probably a lot of stuff of value in there. Or at least, there was. Anyway, after I checked out the house, I took a walk down to the work barn.”
    Mrs. Lowry ran a lucrative crafting business, built on the backs of the kids she fostered—like us—and funded on what we later discovered were embezzled funds. Flynn, Mandy, the twins, and me—we all spent long, arduous days working in that barn, which was really a kind of child-labor sweat shop.
    “What was it like in the barn?” I whisper.
    “Shit was destroyed,” Flynn says. “Just like over in the house.”
    Smiling, I say, “Well, that’s kind of poetic justice, now isn’t it?”
    Nodding, Flynn wets his fingers and presses together the tip of his cigarette. The cherry-red tip—though barely burning—hisses in protest. Setting the spent butt on the sill, he closes the window.
    “It really is poetic justice,” he agrees. “The barn, the house… Those places deserve to be destroyed, especially after all the shit that went down in them.” His eyes meet mine, and he lowers his voice. “There was a table that was still standing upright in the work barn, one of those bench-style ones, where we used to sit for hours and hours, making those fucking crafts. Remember?”
    “I’ll never forget anything about that place, Flynn.”
    “Yeah, right, of course.” He makes a face. “Anyway, I pushed that fucking table over till it was upside down, like a dead bug. Then I rolled it, like, five fucking times. I kicked it too. I just kept kicking it, Jaynie, over and over.” He blows out a breath. “I hate to admit it, but knocking the shit out of that thing felt really good.”
    “I’m sure it did.” I release a constrained breath of my own. “I kind of wish I’d been there to kick it a few times myself.”
    It’s true. Though I don’t care to return, the idea of fucking shit up in that place feels good.
    “It was cathartic, no doubt,” Flynn confirms.
    “So what happened then? What made you so stressed out?”
    Flynn stares over at the cigarette butt on the windowsill, eyeing it like he’s wishing he had more.
    Waving my hand toward the closet where he retrieved the first damn butt from his jacket, I say, “If you’ve got more, go get them. I’m sure a single night of smoking won’t hook you back on the habit.”
    At that assertion, Flynn laughs.
    “Yeah, actually it probably would hook me back. But it’s okay. I don’t have any more anyway. I bummed that one I had from Crick, right before we went our separate ways. I knew better than to buy a whole pack. That’s why I went with the gum.”
    I’m relieved, but mostly I’m dying to know what has Flynn smoking again in the first place.
    In a low voice, I ask, “What else happened up at there today?”
    Sheepishly, eyes down, he says, “Uh, the cops showed up.”

Flynn
     
    “O h shit, no way! You’re kidding me, right?” Jaynie’s face pales.
    “Yeah, no… I mean…” I let out a groan and rub my hand down my face. “Yes, the cops