Pretty Girls Read Free Page A

anymore.
    “Claire …” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me you want this.”
    “I want this.”
    “Tell me again.”
    “I want this.”
    Without warning, he spun her around. Claire’s cheek grazed the brick. He had her pinned to the wall. She pushed back against him. He groaned, taking the move for excitement, but she could barely breathe.
    “Paul—”
    “Don’t move.”
    Claire understood the words, but her brain took several seconds to process the fact that they had not come from her husband’s mouth.
    “Turn around.”
    Paul started to turn.
    “Not you, asshole.”
    Her. He meant her. Claire couldn’t move. Her legs were shaking. She could barely hold herself up.
    “I said turn the fuck around.”
    Paul’s hands gently wrapped around Claire’s arms. She stumbled as he slowly turned her around.
    There was a man standing directly behind Paul. He was wearing a black hoodie zipped just below his thick, tattooed neck. A sinister-looking rattlesnake arced across his Adam’s apple, its fangs showing in a wicked grin.
    “Hands up.” The snake’s mouth bobbed as the man spoke.
    “We don’t want trouble.” Paul’s hands were in the air. His body was perfectly still. Claire looked at him. He nodded once, telling her it was going to be okay when clearly it was not. “My wallet’s in my back pocket.”
    The man wrenched out the wallet with one hand. Claire could only assume a gun was in the other. She saw it in her mind’s eye: black and shiny, pressed into Paul’s back.
    “Here.” Paul took off his wedding ring, his class ring, his watch. Patek Philippe. She had bought it for him five years ago. His initials were on the back.
    “Claire,” Paul’s voice was strained, “give him your wallet.”
    Claire stared at her husband. She felt the insistent tapping of her carotid artery pulsing in her neck. Paul had a gun at his back. They were being robbed. That’s what was going on. This was real. This was happening. She looked down at her hand, the movement tracking slowly because she was in shock and terrified and didn’t know what to do. Her fingers were still wrapped around Paul’s keys. She’d been holding on to them the entire time. How could she have sex with him if she was still holding his keys?
    “Claire,” Paul repeated, “get your wallet.”
    She dropped the keys into her purse. She pulled out her wallet and handed it to the man.
    He jammed it into his pocket, then held out his hand again. “Phone.”
    Claire retrieved her iPhone. All of her contacts. Her vacation photos from the last few years. St. Martin. London. Paris. Munich.
    “The ring, too.” The man glanced up and down the alley. Claire did the same. There was no one. Even the side streets were empty. Her back was still to the wall. The corner leading to the main road was an arm’s length away. There were people on the street. Lots of people.
    The man read her thoughts. “Don’t be stupid. Take off the ring.”
    Claire took off her wedding ring. This was okay to lose. They had insurance. It wasn’t even her original ring. They had picked it out years ago when Paul had finally finished his internship and passed his Registration Exam.
    “Earrings,” the man ordered. “Come on, bitch, move.”
    Claire reached up to her earlobe. Her hands had started to tremble. She hadn’t remembered putting in the diamond studs this morning, but now she could see herself standing in front of her jewelry box.
    Was this her life passing before her eyes—vacant recollections of things ?
    “Hurry.” The man waved his free hand to urge her on.
    Claire fumbled with the backs on her diamond studs. The tremble made her fingers thick and useless. She saw herself at Tiffany picking out the earrings. Thirty-second birthday. Paul giving her a “can you believe we’re doing this?” look as the saleslady took them back to the special secret room where high-dollar purchases were made.
    Claire dropped the earrings in the man’s open hand. She was