Free The Shop by J. Carson Black

and thought the mechanics of filming yourself on a cell phone would be hard to do.
    “What are you looking at?” Riley was still standing on one foot, still battling with one sandal. She threw it down on the deck and started to cry.
    “It’s okay,” Zoe said. “We’ll just go over there and get his phone. It’ll be all right.”
    “You sure?”
    Zoe didn’t have an answer to that.

    They took Riley’s Boxster Spyder because Riley didn’t like Zoe’s Miata.
    Speeding down the two-lane highway, top down, music loud, hair blowing in the wind, Riley freaking. She must have asked Zoe a dozen times if it would turn out okay. Zoe always said yes.
    “You’re sure?”
    “Positive.” Although Zoe had her doubts. She imagined Luke’s family would have cleaned out the house by now. It had been over a month since Luke died.
    Riley tried Luke’s number. It went to voice mail. Zoe said she thought it was a good sign.
    “You think so?”
    “It’s out there somewhere.”
    “God, I miss him!”
    For the first time, Zoe began to believe Riley actually did love Luke. It didn’t seem like it when they were hooking up, but now Riley seemed genuinely wounded.
    Riley honked her horn at the black SUV ahead of them. “Can’t he go any faster? He’s driving under the speed limit.”
    The man holding the sharpshooter rifle in the open back of the SUV lifted a hand in a friendly wave. Riley returned his gesture by flipping the bird.
    Behind them, Mr. Clean stuck close to their back bumper. He looked like an egg with sunglasses.
    Riley glanced in the rearview mirror. “When we get there, make sure they stay far enough away, okay? I don’t want them hearing anything and telling tales.”
    “Okay.”
    Riley parked in front of a junky-looking green house. Two little kids sat in a kiddie pool out front. A chunky woman in a striped tube top, cutoffs, and flip-flops watched them from the porch, her face impassive.
    “Mrs. Frawley? I’m Riley Haddox—”
    “I know who you are.” She leaned forward in her lawn chair. The webbing looked like it would go any minute. “What do you want?”
    “There are some things that Luke said I could have. Can you let me in so I can get them?”
    “And exack’ly what kind of legal standing does a chippie have?”
    “Ex cuse me?”
    She pointed to the younger girl. “My neighbor’s little girl is on’y three years old, but she’s smart enough to look up your skirt. I know loose morals when I see it, and you can bet Luke did, too.”
    Zoe looked at Luke’s landlady in her tube top over a pouchy brown midriff ribboned with scars.
    “So I guess you didn’t know we were engaged,” Riley said. She held up her hand. Zoe knew for a fact that Riley had bought the ring herself and wore it on the occasions she didn’t want to be hit on. Rare, but it happened.
    “You think Luke would marry someone like you? For your money, maybe. I know all about you. I know about the times you drove by here and spied on him after he called it quits. Somehow I don’t think he’d want you pawing through his things now.”
    Riley’s face had gone slack with disbelief. For once, she had nothing to say. Zoe found her own voice. “Mrs. Frawley, Luke had something of Riley’s she really needs back. If you could just let us in for a minute, we could be out of your way.”
    “You her attorney? You sure sound like one.” She heaved to her feet and walked in the direction of the converted garage in back. “There’s nothing left. Cops took everything. But I suppose you won’t go away until you see for yourself. Watch Charly and the little one while I go get the key.”

    “Told you.”
    The blinds were pulled and the room was dark and sour-smelling, but the only thing that remained was the cheap furniture. Zoe cringed at the thought of living here, something Riley had retroactively fantasized about, after Luke died “an outlaw.” Zoe had to wonder how long Riley would have wanted to live here after growing