Page 9 of Glass

Frank gnashes his teeth at Georgie and snatches him by the collar. I turn my head slightly to see if anyone else has noticed what’s happening, but they seem blissfully unaware of the small altercation.

I move a little closer to them, picking up a couple bags of chips at random but pursing my lips as if I’m unsure about my choices. I can feel eyes on me as I carefully keep my gaze on the chips. There’s silence for a second before Frank gives Georgie a sharp shove that sends him reeling back a few steps.

I watch their body language from between the slats in the aisle shelves, but I don’t risk trying to catch a look at their faces again. I’m nosy, but I don’t have a death wish, and I can see the dark brown handle of a hunting knife sheathed on Frank’s belt.

“Even if Kirkpatrick won’t play ball, Frank, we’ve still got Watson and Oates. That covers more than fifty-percent of the park, right?” Georgie’s voice cracks, surprising me. I assumed based on the looks of Frank that both men were older, but Georgie’s sudden change in pitch says otherwise.

I look closer at the parts of them I can see, and I realize the shoes on the right are nice looking leather work boots, but the shoes on the left are worn Converse.

“Fifty-perfect ain’t good enough, dumbass. Slaughter can lose a tail with a quarter-mile at his disposal, imagine what he can do with half of a fucking park. We’d never get a drop on him.” Frank outright growls at this point, and he’s not bothering to keep his voice down so I guess they’ve deemed me non-threatening.

I swap out one of my bags of chips for a different kind just to be safe.

“I have to be back in Brooklyn tomorrow and somehow explain the delay to our client. So you better get your ass back to Acadia tonight and figure out how the hell to sweet talk one of the other rangers into meeting with you.”

“Okay,” Georgie mutters.

Frank stomps a few paces away and then pauses. “One-hundred. That’s the percentage of coverage I expect when I get back, kid. Otherwise, you and I are going to be rethinking this little partnership.”

Georgie curses under his breath as Frank walks off, snatching a bag of jerky off the shelf as he goes.

My heart rate picks up in my chest as I realize how long I’ve been standing here at this point. I shove the chips I picked up back on the shelf and start down the aisle toward the front of the store. There’s an uncomfortable feeling swirling in my gut about the fact that I just eavesdropped on something that I don’t understand but that is clearly bad business.

It takes me a beat too long to realize that Georgie might be a stupid kid to Frank, but he’s still intimidating as hell to me.

I stop short, my white sneakers nearly toe-to-toe with his dirty converse. My eyes dart quickly to his face and freeze on the angry red scar that runs diagonal across his cheek. Georgie clears his throat. “Spent an awfully long time shopping just to walk away empty-handed,” he muses, flashing a gap between his front teeth.

It goes against my every instinct, but I force my eyes to meet his. His are so dark they’re nearly black. Fear spikes in my heart, but self-preservation keeps me from freezing up.

“I always think of chips as more of a road trip food, but my guilty pleasure…” I point to a row of items just past his shoulder at the end of the aisle next to the jerky. “I can never resist a tin of popcorn. You’d be surprised, but the ones at gas stations are always the best. Much better than chips.” I shrug sheepishly and hope like hell I’m playing it off.

He looks back at the decorative popcorn tins, his heavy brows furrowing over his narrowing eyes. He seems to consider my words for a moment.

“Better than movie theater popcorn?” he asks after a moment, dropping the intimidating tone from his voice.

I’ve only been to a movie theater once in my entire life, and I’ve never eaten popcorn from a gas station. “Without a doubt.” I nod emphatically, hair bouncing around my head.

Georgie sizes me up one more time, eyes lingering on my hair, before he jerks his chin down in a sharp nod. “Guess I’ll have to give it a try. Good looking out.”

I don’t release a proper breath until he turns and grabs one of the tins for himself, no longer interested in me as he heads for checkout. I take my time letting my trembling fingers calm before I grab my own popcorn tin. Now that I’ve used it to cover my eavesdropping, there’s no way I’m going to take the risk of walking out without one. I take a long time picking out a drink, too, hoping to help put some distance between Georgie and I.

Seems like we’re headed in the same direction.