Saving Maddie (17 page)

I looked at the itinerary in Mrs. Anderson’s thick fingers. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to make the trip.”

“And why not?”

I leaned back as she glared at me. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Joshua, you’re the president of the youth group. What would your father say—”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Anderson, but the youth group can
take care of itself.” I backed away from her. “Maybe I can drive to Savannah tomorrow morning.”

She shook her head. “If you’re not on this bus when we pull out of the parking lot, don’t bother making the trip.”

I glanced at the bus. Rachel pressed her face against the window, her eyes filled with worry. I flashed her a half smile before turning back to Mrs. Anderson. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go.”

I waved good-bye to Rachel’s frowning face, then headed to my car, not even bothering to grab my suitcase from the bus. As I slid behind the steering wheel, I focused on my father’s white Cadillac parked in front of the sanctuary. I knew I should run into the church and explain to him why I was skipping the trip, but after a few seconds, I decided against it. I was looking for Madeline, and like she had said before, girls like her didn’t go to church.

*    *    *

I spent all afternoon cruising the city. I went to all the usual places where I thought Madeline could be—the coffee shop, the community college campus, the bowling alley, and even the nursing home. My phone lit up with calls from my parents, Tony, and Rachel. I ignored them all.

On my fifth trip to the bowling alley, I spotted Frank—sans Madeline—at the far end of the building.

I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans as I marched toward his lane. Frank frowned as I got closer, but not like he was mad at me. It was more like he couldn’t quite place
me. A cigarette dangled at the corner of his mouth, and smoke billowed from his nose.

I stuck out my hand. “Joshua Wynn.”

His eyes brightened. “Madeline’s friend, right?” He shook my hand. “How’s the hellion doing?” I was amazed he could talk without removing the cigarette from his lips.

“That’s why I’m here.” I stood up straight and tall, as if that would make me more imposing. “Her aunt hasn’t seen her in a few days. I hoped you might know where she is.”

“Sorry, but I haven’t seen her either.” He removed the cigarette from his mouth to take a sip of beer. “She dumped me, although I ain’t really broken up about it. I kind of lost interest in her.” He winked. “She hadn’t been putting out like she used to. I guess she didn’t have enough free milk to pass around.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t know.”

Frank took a long drag of the cigarette before propping it on the corner of an ashtray. “You got to be shittin’ me. All that time y’all spent together, I just figured she had moved on to you.”

“You figured wrong.” What did Madeline ever see in this guy?

“Well, it’s your loss.” Frank picked up his bowling ball and wiped it off with a cloth. “Hold on a sec.” He ambled to the lane, repositioned the ball in his hands, and then hurled it down toward the pins.

They exploded in every direction.

He walked back to me, pausing to high-five the other bowlers. “Like I said before, I haven’t seen her.” He picked
up his cigarette and knocked a few loose ashes from the end. “If you ever find her, do me a favor and get my shirt back.”

*    *    *

Four hours and umpteen prayers later, I stood at the entrance of the reggae club. The same bouncer who had allowed me in before stood at the door. He looked even larger than last time.

I cautiously smiled at him. “I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

“Of course I know who you are. You’re Pastor Wynn’s kid.”

I frowned. “If you knew who I was, why’d you let me into the club that night?”

He cracked a smile. “Madeline’s a friend. She said that if I let you in, she’d keep you out of trouble.” He stepped back and let a couple of guys exit the building. “She seemed really sad when she showed up tonight.”

I lunged forward. “Is she still here?” I asked, my voice cracking. “I really need to see her. It’s important.”

He stared at me long and hard, and then moved out of the way. “You know the rules. No smoking. No drinking.” He picked up a rubber stamp and motioned for my hand. This time, I remembered to offer it palm-down.

I went into the building, paid the cashier, and slid into the club. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and smoke. I knew she would be either on the dance floor or at the bar.

The dance floor was just about empty. I moved my gaze
to the bar, and immediately spotted her. As always, she looked sexy. And dangerous. Her red halter top dipped low on her chest, and her black shorts could have been mistaken for underwear, they were so short.

I strode to the bar and pulled up a stool beside her. She didn’t look surprised to see me. She might have even smirked.

“Aunt Gwen send you?”

I nodded. “She’s worried about you.”

Madeline grabbed her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She leaned over to the guy next to her. “Got a light?”

He whipped out a Bic and lit her cigarette. She puffed on it a few seconds; the end changed from white to red to dark gray. She leaned her head back, blew smoke into the air, and then flicked a few ashes into an already full ashtray.

Smoking is the only thing I don’t do
, I remembered Madeline telling me. But I didn’t say anything. I just watched her take puff after puff. The cigarette slowly burned itself away.

“I have so many other bad habits, I figured one more couldn’t hurt.” Smoke escaped from her mouth as she talked. “You want to try to convince me to stop smoking?”

“I learned a long time ago that I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” I gestured toward the bottles of alcohol. “No tequila tonight?”

“Chris won’t serve me any more. Says I’ve had my limit.” She glared at him. “Jackass.”

I moved closer to her. I couldn’t smell her usual coffee-and-vanilla scent under all the smoke and alcohol. “Maybe you should go home.”

“I don’t have a home to go to.”

“Your aunt says you can come back and stay with her. She’s not kicking you out, no matter what your dad does. She said she’d even move.”

“Even if she wanted to, Aunt Gwen can’t afford to move anywhere else. Plus, I’ve already gotten her into enough trouble.” She ground what little remained of the cigarette into the ashtray. “I get everyone into trouble.”

Madeline fished another cigarette from her purse and propositioned the guy next to her for another light. As she took a puff, she stared at my cheek.

“If I said I was sorry for slapping you, would you believe me?”

I nodded.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m apologizing for hitting you. I’m not sorry for what I said.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s guilt by association. If your parents were to blame, they only did it because you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“You know, I haven’t spoken to my mom since that night,” I said. “I cursed at her.”

Madeline arched an eyebrow. “Really? What did you say?”

“I dropped the f bomb. Twice.”

“Man, you must have been really upset.”

“I was.” I locked my eyes with hers. “I really do care about you.”

Her gaze melted a little. “I know. And that’s why you shouldn’t…why I can’t…” She shook her head. “God, I need a drink. This is not a time to be sober.”

“Where have you been staying?”

“At some trashy motel.” She blew a smoke ring from her mouth. “I can pick up my check from the coffee shop tomorrow. As soon as I cash it, I’m out.”

“But what about school?”

“Community college isn’t exactly Harvard. I can always start again.” She finished her second cigarette. “Tell Aunt Gwen I’ll call her as soon as I get to wherever I’m going.”

My heartbeat intensified as she slipped off her stool. “Are you leaving?”

“There’s no point in sticking around if the bartender won’t serve me. I think I have a bottle of tequila at the motel.”

“Don’t go.” I jumped from my seat. “You want to dance?”

“I can’t dance when I’m not happy,” she said as she walked off.

I rushed after her. “But you’ve been drinking. You can’t drive.”

“Of course I can’t drive. I don’t have a car,” she said. “I’ll call a cab.”

“But—”

“Thanks for checking up on me, sweetie, but this isn’t
your element.” Madeline patted my cheek. “You need to go home. You don’t belong here.”

“Why don’t you come home with me? I’m sure if we talk—”

“I’m through with talking,” she said. “I’m going back to my room, finding that bottle of tequila, and getting drunk. And unless you plan on drinking, you’re not invited.”

I grabbed her hand. “Fine. Let’s get drunk.”

chapter 16

T
he Palmetto Paradise Motel looked nothing like its namesake—unless paradise was filled with broken plastic flamingos, browning palm trees, and rusted, overflowing Dumpsters. A huge, grime-covered neon sign blinked on and off as we pulled up.

“Which room?” I asked.

“The one with the peeling green paint on the door.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. That narrows it down considerably.”

“Room one-twenty-two. It’s in the back.”

I rounded the building and parked in front of her room. As Madeline stepped out of the car, she tripped.
“Fucking heels.” She leaned over and slipped out of her shoes. “I hate these things. I feel like a giant every time I stand up.”

“If you hate them, why do you wear them?”

“Because that’s what girls are supposed to do.”

I stared at her feet as she rummaged through her purse. The concrete sidewalk looked like pigeons had been deliberately aiming at it for weeks. “Do you think it’s a good idea to be walking around without shoes on?”

“Believe me, the carpet isn’t much better.” She pulled her keys from her purse and unlocked the door. “It ain’t much, but at least my father can’t kick me out of it.”

I followed Madeline into the room. A pile of clothes was heaped in the middle of the queen-size bed. Her other clothes were bursting from the two suitcases on the floor. An empty pizza box sat on a small desk, with a column of books stacked on the accompanying chair.

“Have a seat, if you can find the room. And don’t worry, all the clothes on the bed are clean.”

I sat on the corner of the bed while Madeline rummaged around in the pile, her hands tossing an assortment of bras and underwear to the side. When one of her haphazardly thrown bras grazed my knee, I almost fell off the bed.

I tugged at my collar, trying to cool my scorching skin. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I wasn’t about to up and bail out now. I hadn’t come this far just to fail.

She finally pulled a half-full bottle of alcohol from her
pile. “I knew it was in here.” She tapped her fingernails against the glass. “This is one of the only good things I got from Frank.”

“He says hello, by the way. And he wants his shirt back.”

Madeline sat beside me and unscrewed the cap. “You really were looking all over the place for me, weren’t you?”

“Like I said, we were worried.”

She tipped her head back and took a long swallow from the bottle. Her face twisted in its usual way. “All my glasses are dirty,” she mumbled after she had swallowed.

I took the bottle from her. The gold liquid sloshed around like it was trying to forge an escape.

Madeline placed her hand on my thigh, causing my entire body to twitch. “Joshua, you don’t really have to do it if you don’t want to.”

At that point, I had already tipped up the bottle. I collected a bit of tequila into my cheeks. I wanted to swallow it, but my throat wasn’t cooperating.

“You look like a chipmunk,” she said as she took the bottle from me. “You’re supposed to drink it, not store it for the winter.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed. All the way down, the tequila set my throat ablaze. I exploded into a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” She slapped me on the back.

My eyes were like lawn sprinklers. “Lungs. On. Fire,” I wheezed, before being overtaken by another bout of coughing.

“Don’t take such a big sip next time,” she said.

After a few moments, I was finally able to sit up. I wiped my eyes. “What is that stuff?”

“Jose Cuervo. The good shit.” She screwed the cap back on. “Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking with me.”

“I always keep my word.” I took the bottle back from her. “Even when it involves drinking gasoline.”

“Well, give it a second before you drink again. The last thing I want you doing is coughing up my good liquor.” Madeline reached over me to her pile of clothes. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?” I asked, although I was already doing as she requested.

“I want to get out of this top, and I don’t want you staring at my precious cargo while I change.”

A surge of energy flashed through me as I heard the rustling of clothes. “Why don’t you just go to the bathroom?”

“I’m lazy. And it’ll only take a second.” She tapped me on the arm. “You can open your eyes now.”

I opened them, and my gaze immediately shot to her chest. Her not-quite-thick-enough T-shirt used to have lettering on it, but it looked to have faded away long ago. She also wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Stop staring,” she said.

I looked back up. “Sorry.”

She laughed, but not really in a happy kind of way. “Don’t feel bad. Everyone stares.” She leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes. “You can probably try another sip now.”

I unscrewed the cap and brought the purple-lined rim to my mouth. Then I almost hacked up a lung.

Madeline remained motionless as I struggled for breath. “So what part of this is supposed to be fun?” I asked.

“Just relax,” she said. “You can’t rush the feeling. It takes a few minutes for the alcohol to take effect.”

I placed the bottle on the floor and picked up one of the books lodged underneath the pile of clothes. All throughout the book, pieces of text were highlighted in yellow and purple. In the margins, notes were scribbled in purple ink.

“Purple.” I flipped the book shut. “It’s the color of royalty, you know.”