Fourteen million dollars in a burned suitcase. Parts of a dead man in a duffel bag. Two hired killers, a drug dealer, and two organized crime kingpins; all chasing two white trash kids from New York into the Deep South as they head for what they think will be safety in Mexico. Adult orientated. Sex, language and Graphic Violence… 18+ No preview is available due to the Adult Content. Drug Use…
“I was in the woods. I ran. I didn’t know what those guys would do. I knew you lived here. I was heading here when I saw you come out. I wouldn’t have done that… I couldn’t have. Especially when you fell inside the car. It made me gag.”
She paused and met his eyes for a second, then looked away once more. She closed her eyes like she was remembering the scene, or it was playing out again behind her closed lids. David supposed it was. She continued in a lower, measured voice.
“When you got done-I was surprised how fast you did it-I just stayed in the woods for a few minutes… Like I didn’t know what to do… I guess I didn’t,” she shook her head. “Then I walked down the road through the woods across from the other car. I was going to tell you… Call out… but you seemed so focused… I guess that’s the word: Intense might be better. And anyway, next thing you know you were done with that too. Then the cops… I came out of the woods when the cops got here. You didn’t see me ’cause you were talking to one of them…” She looked back at him and held his eyes with her own. That was pretty easy to do: David seemed unable to look away. “You mad?” she asked after a few moments.
“How old are you?” David asked.
“Huh?” she asked.
“You know… How old are you. I look at you and I keep thinking you’re younger. Then you talk and I start thinking you’re older,” David said.
“Fifteen,” she said. “Still wanna do me?” she asked and smiled.
“God,” David said, nearly choking.
“I’m kidding,” she laughed. “I’m eighteen.” She pulled out her driver’s license and showed it to him.
David looked from her to the license. “Doesn’t really look like you.”
She sighed, took the license and stuck it back into her pocket. “Now who else would it be?” she asked.
“That was mean,” David said. No one ever looked like themselves on a license photo.
“Yeah, but the upside is I’m legal and I bet that matters, doesn’t it?” April asked.
Fourteen million dollars in a burned suitcase. Parts of a dead man in a duffel bag. Two hired killers, a drug dealer, and two organized crime kingpins; all chasing two white trash kids from New York into the Deep South … https://books.apple.com/us/book/white-trash/id1439875867