Growing and Kissing by Helena Newbury

taken care of and you don’t have to budget for it every month. And it’ll be cheaper if you pay six months up front.”
    She shook her head again. “I’ve been calling loan companies since this started. If I take every loan I can get and max out my cards, I can just barely pay the hospital bills Kayley’s insurance won’t cover. I’m going to be up to my neck in debt. There’s no more credit left.”
    My guts tightened. “Not that sort of loan.”

 
     
     
     
     
     

     
     
    Louise
     
    Sean drove us to a strip mall that had long since died. At first, it looked as if every business was closed down, their windows boarded or broken. But there was one other car in the parking lot: a gleaming Audi. It was parked in front of a small single story unit, the sort of place that could have housed a dental surgeon or a lawyer, and that place looked as if it might still be open. There was no sign on the door, though, and the blind across the window meant we couldn’t see inside. There was no clue as to what sort of business it was.
    Sean parked and then sat there staring at the place as if he’d rather walk off a cliff than through the door.
    “What?” I asked. “What is this place?”
    He looked at me, then looked at the office in front of us. “Just...do as I say in there okay?” I’d never heard his voice so tense. Tense with anger, as if he was having to count to ten, over and over again, just to hold himself in check.
    We got out and Sean slammed his door so hard it hurt my ears. He stalked in ahead of me, glaring from side to side like a soldier entering enemy territory.
    Inside, there was a waiting room. One guy was sprawled in a chair, flicking through a magazine. Another lounged against the door that led through to the back room. Both of them were in suits, but they didn’t look like they belonged in them. They were both heavy-set, bulky with muscle under a thick layer of fat. The sort of guys who barely seem to have necks.
    They must have known Sean, because they both sneered at him when he walked in. Their expressions changed when I came in behind him. I felt two pairs of eyes work their way down my body. Crude, but practiced, as if they’d done it plenty of times. I shrank away from them a little. Sean stepped forward aggressively. “Tell him we’re here!” he snapped.
    The one guarding the inner door knocked, leaned inside and muttered something: The Irish and then a lengthy description of me that ended in -itch. I saw Sean’s biceps swell as his hands tightened into fists. I put a hand on his back, acting on instinct, and saw his lungs fill as he took a slow, deep breath.
    The man at the door nodded us inside. Just before we went in, Sean leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Get enough for everything we need. Lights, chemicals, all that shit. Not just the rent. You don’t want to have to come back to this guy.”
    I swallowed and nodded.
    The inner office held just a desk, a few chairs and a safe. There were also a few large potted plants, the leaves luxuriantly green and healthy. They made me feel better for a second. Then I saw they were plastic.
    Behind the desk, tapping at a laptop, was a man who was... wrong.
    I knew it as soon as I saw him. Anyone would have: the aura of it pervaded the room like a bad smell. I felt a physical urge to turn around and run. The scariest thing of all wasn’t how strong the feeling was, but the knowledge that everyone who came in here must feel the same way...and yet, given that the guy was still in business, they didn’t run; they stayed. That’s how desperate his customers were.
    That’s how desperate I was.
    He wasn’t frightening, physically. He was a little overweight and, standing up, he couldn’t have been much taller than me. He was maybe fifty, with a bald spot that was growing and gold-rimmed bifocals. His shirt had dark sweat patches under the arms. He looked most of all like someone’s dad. There was nothing in his appearance you could