164: Help

SCARLETT

“I’d look stunning as a pregnant woman,” Emma flaunted her brunch bump in her black body con dress, “Say no, and I’ll have your head.”

I looked her dead in the eye and dared her, “No.”

“The only reason you’re not choking on your blood right now is because you paid for brunch and this baby bump wouldn't be possible without all the steak you pumped into me,” she said, holding her sunglasses down so I could see into what were meant to be terrifying eyes.

“Let’s not forget the four beef burgers you ate as appetizers,” I reminded her in a teasing tone, as though I didn't have the same thing.

Whatever string of curses left her lips left flew over my head because my attention was caught by something else. Or rather, someone else.

A man with a cigarette held to his lips was leaning against the wall inches away from us and staring right into my soul with his reddened eyed. His lips were dark and chafed, his clothes weren't dirty but they looked worn out and had tears that exposed his