Target on Our Backs
Page 47

* * *
There's somebody at my front door.
Scratch that. Two somebodies—a woman and a little girl. The woman is dressed in a pantsuit with heels, tall and blonde and too attractive to be natural. The child, maybe seven, is pulling a red wagon, wearing a green vest.
A Girl Scout.
They're easily recognizable.
I whip my car into my driveway and pause for a moment, watching as they talk to Karissa. She stands on the porch with them, the front door wide open behind her, Killer wagging his tail excitedly in the yard, being doted on by the little girl.
I'm not sure how long they've been here, but I'm guessing a while.
They all look so comfortable.
The moment I step out of the car, though, that changes. The visitors quickly depart, heading the opposite direction, while Killer's stance turns defensive.
Karissa turns my way. "Where'd you run off to this morning?"
It's afternoon already.
She's still in her pajamas.
It's obvious she hasn't gone anywhere.
Huh. "Didn't you have class today?"
"I asked you first."
"Had stuff to do."
"Well, me, too," she says, waving behind her, into the open house. "Lots to do like… sleep."
I laugh at that, stepping up onto the porch with her. My gaze drifts down the street in the direction the people scurried off. "So you had some visitors today?"
"Uh, yeah… they were selling cookies. I bought a few boxes."
Shaking my head, I step past her into the foyer and freeze. At least a dozen boxes of cookies are stacked up right inside the front door.
"A few boxes," I repeat as Karissa joins me inside, ushering Killer in.
She shuts the door. "Yeah, I mean, I would've gotten more, but this was all they had left."
"More?" I ask incredulously. "You bought them out."
She pushes past me, grabbing the box from on top, and rolls her eyes dramatically, making sure I see it. Opening the box, she tears into it, pulling out one of the peanut butter Tagalongs, not even hesitating before eating the thing. "You know these things are hot commodities, and they only sell them, like, once a year. We need to be stockpiling them like it's the fucking apocalypse."
I glance at her, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think they're that serious."
"Come on, don't even act like those people on The Walking Dead wouldn't be a billion times happier if they had some Thin Mints."
"I think they'd rather have showers, and clean clothing, and maybe even the occasional steak to eat."
"Well, then, they're stupid," she says, pulling out another cookie and pointing at me with it. "These things are the key to survival. Mark my words... the Girl Scouts are geniuses. They're saving the world, one Samoa at a time."
Grabbing some boxes, I take them into the kitchen, finding room in a cabinet to shove them in. Karissa follows me, carrying the rest of the boxes, but she doesn't bother trying to help me put them away. She guards the open box, devouring the things, as she hops up on the counter beside me, just sitting there, swinging her legs.
"I always wanted to be a Girl Scout," she says. "Really, I think it was just for the damn cookies, but still... it's as good a reason as any.
"Why didn't you do it?"
"My mom wouldn't let me."
"Huh."
"Yeah, something about it being too dangerous," she says. "Guess she thought the boogeyman might've found me easier if I wore that green vest."
"He might've," I offer, not sure if my honesty will make her feel better about that. "Would've been another piece in a paper trail."
"So basically, what you're saying is, it's your fault I'm hoarding cookies."
I close the cabinet and look at her. She's being playful about it. There's nothing accusatory in her tone. "You seem to be in a good mood today."
"Yeah, I'm feeling better," she says. "I think I was burned out, you know? Between school and life and you... it's just been a lot of stress."
"Nice of you to include me."
She kicks her foot out, hitting me with it. "You know what I'm saying."
"I do. And I'm glad you're feeling better."
"Me, too," she says. "And Cherry and Destiny bringing me cookies was just the icing on the cake."
Cherry.
Destiny.
What the hell?
"Cherry and Destiny," I repeat.
"Yeah, the Montgomerys," she says. "They live just down the block. Cherry's a stay-at-home mom. Her husband, David, is an investment banker. Isn't that cool? I told her you do all that stuff, too."
"All what stuff?"
"Like trade stocks and portfolios or whatever."
"You're thinking of a stockbroker. An investment banker helps companies raise money."
"Same difference," she says, waving me off as she grabs another cookie. "It's all about money, isn't it? You know about money."
"So, you talked about me?"
"Of course," she says, like that's not a big deal at all. "She asked what my husband did for a living."
"And what did you tell her?"
"Same thing you told me."
"Which is?"
"Freelancing."
I laugh. Freelancing. I remember telling her that. It was true, albeit misleading, I'll admit. I left off the part that what I was doing was illegal.
I suppose she left that off, too.
"You know, her husband goes to a club," she says. "One of those men-only, non-stripper kind of clubs that you used to go to. Bunch of rich guys drinking liquor and having pissing contests or something, I don't know... whatever you do at those places. I told her you might be interested—"
"Karissa, just… don't." Stepping to her, I cradle her face in my hands and stare at her pointedly. "I love you, I do, but so help me God, the next person who talks to me about making friends is going to have their tongue ripped out for it. You got me?"
She clamps her lips closed.
"I'm not interested in hanging out with investment bankers," I say, letting go of her. "I'd rather spend my time with you."
She opens her mouth, like she's going to say something to that, but instead she just shrugs and finishes her cookie.
Once it's gone, she closes the box up and sets it aside before hopping down onto her feet. "Ugh, I'm starving... you want to head into the city and grab something to eat?"
I grab her hips, pulling her to me. "I've had a long day and I'm tired. Why don't we just order some delivery, instead?" My hands travel down the curve of her ass as I press myself against her. Dipping my head, my lips find her neck. Her skin is soft and warm, slightly tangy, as my tongue makes its way along her throat. "We can eat and then I can... eat."
My teeth nip the base of her throat, and she hisses, pushing away from me. "Thought you were tired?"
"Never too tired for you, sweetheart."
As soon as those words are out, I'm yawning.
"Ugh, as great as that sounds, I've got a meeting with my advisor a little later, so I've got no choice but to head to the city."