Bottom Feeder (11 page)

“
Maddy,” I whisper after a
minute of silence. I move closer and tuck a loose strand of hair
behind her ear. Oh. She smells amazing. “I’m flattered that I can
be the best part of someone’s day.”

She turns and smiles.

“
You shouldn’t be
embarrassed if you meant it.”

She is silent while I keep the
conversation flowing throughout the next half hour.

I gauge her reaction when I mention
the Army. Most people recoil when I talk about that aspect of my
life. Maddy seems fascinated by my training stories. At the mention
of jumping out of airplanes, she arches her brow and watches with
skepticism when I demonstrate how to land.

“
I know it’s crazy to jump
out of perfectly good airplanes,” I joke.

“
I hate planes,” Maddy
replies seriously. “I think the only logical thing to do once you
get in one is jump out.”

I laugh out loud. I haven’t laughed
like this in a long time. It feels strange. But good.

Then she asks about
Afghanistan. Not the usual question people like to ask:
Did you kill anybody?
Instead, “Were you scared?”

“
Sometimes.”

She nods and changes the subject to
military rank. I am beyond thankful she understands I do not want
to discuss my time there.

This is the first moment I realize she
is different. The first moment I realize I do not want this night
to end.

“
I’m doing all the
talking.” I sit on the sand beside her and lean back to rest on my
elbows.

“
I prefer that,” Maddy
answers, matter-of-fact. She extends her legs, crossing them at the
ankles and tucking the dress underneath to hold it down against the
light breeze.

“
Tell me something
about
you
.”

“
What would you like to
know?”

“
What do you do for fun?
Music? Favorite color? Are you nervous about being in New York
alone? Stuff like that.”

“
Dance. Run. Read. Cook. I
listen to everything from rock to classical to hip hop to soul to
country to reggaeton. My favorite color depends on the day. And no,
I am not nervous about being alone in New York.”

I continue bombarding her with
questions, feeling at ease with each passing minute.

Maddy finally relaxes. She rests back
on the sand, her chocolate brown hair spreading out like a fan
around her head.

I lay next to her, casually inching
closer. The distance is comfortable, nonintrusive. My hand brushes
hers. Once. Twice. Maybe I’m taking this whole get-her-to-like-you
thing a little too far. I interlock my pinky with hers.

We settle into a contented silence
with nothing other than the sound of the ocean and the distant
voices of a small party at the other end of the beach as our
soundtrack. I think of silence; the sound of how loud it can be
when you’re alone. The loneliness of silence. Angry silence. The
beautiful silence of a mind that never stops screaming. I have that
silence right now and I’m going to enjoy it.

A gust of wind suddenly sends the hem
of Maddy’s dress flying up. She catches the fabric before anything
goes on display. Once the breeze calms she unclenches her fists.
Seconds later another gust of wind attacks with a vengeance and
sends the dress flying up again.

Of course I look. I’m a guy, for
goodness sake!

I follow the length of her short,
toned legs to the edge of the orange-y dotted short things and up
to a variety of purplish-yellow bruises splayed across her
waist.

“
Are you . . .”

“
Oh my stars,” she says,
scrambling to sit up. “A girl can’t even lay in the sand! I’m
sorry, Jackson. I’m wearing boy shorts underneath. They’re like
regular shorts or even a bathing suit, but I promise I had no
intentions to show them off on purpose. I am
really
sorry. And I’m rambling
because I do that when I’m nervous.”

I chuckle. “It’s not that serious.
Come on, lay back with me.”

She adjusts and tucks the dress
underneath her before easing to rest on the sand in a weird, stiff
position.

“
Let me help.” I prop
myself up and extend my hand across the bottom hem of the skirt,
planting it in the sand on the opposite side. “This should keep it
down.”

“
Oh. Um, okay. Th—thank
you. That’s very nice of you. You don’t have to do that. I mean, I
appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. It’s just . . .”

I laugh again. “It’s not a
problem.”

Another bout of contented silence
follows. It’s kind of flattering when I catch her sneaking peeks at
me every now and then.

To tell you the truth, I am not seeing
the girl Cordell described to me. Granted, she is not the type of
girl I would go for but she just seems really . . .
nice?

Maddy sighs heavily after I cut my
eyes to see her glancing at me again.

I snort. “Bored?”

“
I think if I keep
staring, you are going to call me out on my stalkery,” she sighs
again and smiles. “Creeper Status, Level Six or something. And yes,
‘stalkery’ is a word. I just made it up.”

“
So that makes it
real?”

“
Obviously.” She turns to
me. “Can I make this even more awkward for a minute?”

“
Absolutely.”

“
I know you are here
because he asked you to be here. I understand that. But as long as
everything is out in the open and you know where I stand and you
know I know where you stand, I think we can get along the rest of
the night without the awkwardness. What do you think?”

“
Sounds good,” I reply
with a smile, relaxing even further in the sand.

My head rests near her midsection.
Absently, she begins running her fingers through my hair. I groan
in satisfaction. Maddy mistakes this for a bad thing and jerks her
hand away quickly.

“
Maddy . . .”

“
It’s getting late. You
should get home.”

I jump to my feet and offer my
hand.

“
Thanks.” She brushes off
the dress and flips her hair to shake out the sand before trudging
over to the beach cruiser.

“
Maddy!” a guy’s voice
yells from behind us. He runs to catch up. The guy looks vaguely
familiar. He wraps Maddy in a hug and kisses the top of her
head.

“
Hey,” she beams. “I
thought you left already.”

Hmph. I am with her tonight because
Cordell paid me, but this kid is already pissing me off.

Wait. Why does he piss me
off?

Dude gives me a once over before
focusing his attention back to Maddy. He whispers something in her
ear. She smiles and nods. He hugs her again, shooting a look of
death at me over her shoulder.

I have to shake off the urge to punch
him in the face. The psychs would say this anger stems from PTSD.
Right now, my anger stems from this asshole disrespecting
me.

I snatch up her bike with more force
than necessary and push it to my car. Aside from the bar crowd, the
street is mostly empty.

“
Thanks again, Jackson. I
had a nice time.”

“
Of course you did. I was
the best part of your day, remember?”

Her cheeks flush a bright shade of
pink and she focuses on the ground. I find myself placing a hand
underneath her chin. Her sapphire eyes meet mine.

“
It’s ridiculous how easy
it is for me to make you blush,” I tease. “But I do like
it.”

“
You’re the only one,” she
replies, hopping on her bike. “It gives me away every
time.”

“
Wait,” I demand, grabbing
the handle bars. “What are you doing?”

“
Going home?”

“
It’s not safe for you to
be out this late on a bicycle.”

“
I make this trip all the
time.”

A group of men exit a restaurant
across the street, obviously drunk. Maddy cuts her eyes to the
crowd.

“
Your bike will fit in the
back, Maddy,” I say cautiously.

She peels her eyes from the group of
men and swings her leg over the side of the beach
cruiser.

“
Leave it,” she says.
“I’ll get it tomorrow.”

The group walks to their vehicles with
goodbyes and laughter that, for some reason, makes my skin
crawl.

“
Stop!” a brassy voice
yells. Maddy’s shoulders slump as if she’s hearing the worst news
in the world. The man’s slow, careful footsteps turn to a brisk,
staggered walk as he approaches the car. “Where do you think you’re
headed with him, young lady?”

“
I’m Jackson Monroe, sir.”
I extend my hand to give one hard, brief shake. There’s something
off about this guy. I feel like I’m attempting to defuse a
situation that’s already been triggered.

“
Larry Duvall,” he slurs,
returning the handshake. “You’re Violet’s boy! Cordell told me you
are gonna be taking our little Maddy here to the Big
City.”

“
Yes, sir.”

“
Well I hope you’ll take
care of her as well as we have.” Larry winks at Maddy and chuckles.
The sound is nauseating. He touches her arm. She begins to pull
away, but stops herself. “Would you rather me take you home,
darlin’?”

“
N-n-no, thank you, Mr.
Duvall,” Maddy stutters. As if trying to make it work right, she
shakes her head quickly. She continues in a clear voice, “Daddy has
requested that I get acquainted with Jackson before we leave next
Sunday. I appreciate the offer, Mr. Duvall, but Daddy is expecting
Jackson to drop me off.”

“
Well, all right,” he
shrugs. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got a nice farewell gift for
you.” He laughs, reaches out to touch her shoulder, winks again and
staggers to his truck.

Whoa. What a creepy son of a
bitch.

Maddy hurriedly sits in the car,
locking the door as soon as it closes. I slide behind the
wheel.

“
What was that
about?”

Maddy

My body trembles. I search my jumbled
brain for an answer. A lie.

Jackson grabs a jacket from the
backseat and drapes it across my arms.

“
Thank you.” It smells
like him. Not cologne, but a woodsy, citrusy, boy smell.

If I were alone tonight, Larry would
not have taken no for an answer. There will be consequences for
refusing the ride. I will deal with that when the time comes. For
now, Jackson has temporarily spared me from having to spend time
with that animal.

I am not afraid of Larry.
I’ve learned to deal with him on my own. What I
am
afraid of is someone discovering
my secrets.

I close my eyes, wishing everything
would disappear.

“
So . . .” Jackson
presses, starting the car.

“
Do you think evil is
subjective?” I ask.

“
Hmm?”

“
Evil. Do you think it is
subjective? As in, what may be evil to some may not be evil to you.
Or to me.”

“
Evil is pretty black and
white.”

I open my eyes, kicking
myself for wasting precious time
not
looking at him. I know, I know.
I’m becoming one of
those
girls. I’ll deal with that later.

“
Did you answer my
question with a question?”

“
He manages Carrington
Enterprise.”

Jackson abruptly stops and pulls to
the shoulder. He stares intently into my eyes, his own seemingly
elsewhere

“
I don’t think that’s it.
You’re hiding something.” It’s not a question.

My stomach begins performing
cartwheels. Back handsprings. Somersaults. “What? Why would you say
that?”

A cold sweat pops out
everywhere on my body. Does he know? Can he see that Larry Duvall
is my personal monster? The type of creature that hides in the
closets of children and underneath their bed. Or in this
case,
in
their
bed.

The look that spreads
across Jackson’s face is a mixture of shock and disgust. “Are
you
sleeping
with
him?”

My head spins. More sweat forms at the
nape of my neck.

Oh no!

I remove my seatbelt and throw open
the door. I lean out of the car to heave the remnants of dinner on
the pavement.

Way to be attractive,
Carrington.

Through my retching, I hear Jackson
exit the car. He squats beside my slumped body and pulls my hair
back.

“
You okay?” I nod weakly.
“I’m sorry I said that. It’s just . . . he’s pretty foul. The man
is old enough to be your granddaddy.”

I try to muster enough strength to
rebuke his accusation. Instead I hang out of the car like an idiot
until Jackson helps straighten me in the seat.