Free Unsure by Ashe Barker

the female in me resents Tom Shore’s careless, cutting rejection, and I would have liked him to perhaps consider my offer, if only briefly.
    Humiliated beyond measure, I remain silent. If all else fails I’ll take one more beating then make a run for it before the police arrive. Assuming I can still run…
    “You want to make this right? Make it up to me?” He waits. I nod. “Then pay me back what you stole. That’s what it’ll cost you to keep the police out of this.”
    Hope and relief surge up simultaneously. Money. It just comes down to some cash. I have money, a little left over from my inheritance. I can pay back what we took.
    “How much? How much do you want?”
    “Well, let’s work it all out, shall we? My jacket was worth around a thousand…”
    “What! Never.” My knee-jerk expression of disbelief earns me a growl.
    “You’re the lying little thief round here, love. Not me. So, a thousand pounds for the jacket. Plus an iPad, say four hundred. And my phone, another hundred or so. My wallet cost me fifty quid and it ended up in the river. I had over three hundred in cash, plus you caused me the hassle of having to replace all my cards. Shall we say four hundred for wallet and contents? And there was my watch. Nothing special I suppose, another hundred. And my camera—that was a beauty. Another thousand for that, definitely. Plus the cost of replacing a perfectly good sports shirt and Levi’s, another hundred. Lucky for you, you didn’t find my car keys or we’d have been looking at much, much more.” He stops, remembering, his mouth quirking in amusement. “Except you did find them, didn’t you? You just didn’t dare reach into my pocket. Why was that?”
    I feel the burning embarrassment creeping up my face, remembering the solid, thick erection I’d brushed with my hand as I went through his trouser pockets that night. How nervous he’d made me feel, how vulnerable, even back then. Even when he was lying beaten in the mud. And how I’d lied to Kenny to save me having to search him any further.
    For the first time, I see Tom Shore smile. He shakes his head, amused. “Who’d have thought a little scrubber like you would turn out to be shy?” Then he’s back to the business in hand. “Shall we say that’s a straight three grand you owe me?”
    Insulted again, oddly hurt by his continued and unjust denigration, I stiffen, straighten in my chair. “Two grand. I still have your camera. And yes, it is a beauty. I’ve loved using it, but it belongs to you and you can have it back. It’s behind you, on the table.” A watery gaze is the best I can manage as I try to gather some shreds of pride around me, but at least my voice is more even now. “Will you take a check for the rest?”
    He smiles unpleasantly at me, a grin that doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “My, my, aren’t you full of surprises! Have you come into money? Or just stolen some poor sod’s check book?” He stands, strolls over to the table and picks up the camera, turns it over slowly in his hands. “Yup, that’s mine all right. Where’s the memory card?”
    I ignore the dig about the cheqck book. It’s got nothing to do with him where I get my funds from. “Slot in the front of my laptop.”
    He presses the release and the small memory card pops out. The motion reactivates the dormant screen, my latest and one of my most striking panoramic shots flashing up onto the display. A landscape I took today, the moorland scene shrouded in mist, isolated treetops silhouetted, jutting eerily out of a blanket of low cloud, stepping stones across a lake of clouds. One hand on the table he leans in to look more closely.
    “Did you take this picture? With my camera?”
    “Yes. Earlier today. I just got back…”
    “And you got caught in that rain an hour ago. That explains why you had a shower, I guess. Your hair’s still wet. And why you’re so conveniently undressed at this time in the