Wanted (12 page)

Unable to control myself, I burst out laughing.

“What?” Charlie asked; wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Hey!” Reid scowled at me. “Not everybody went to charm school.”

It was with the harshness of his voice that I began to comprehend what my presence here meant to this group of renegades. While I was beginning to lose my fear of what they could do to me, their fear of me was increasing. Charlie made it apparent that he wouldn’t allow me to be harmed anymore than I already had. And his way around these men—even the way they had described him in the media, had portrayed him as a kind of leader. A sort of second-in-command to Ben Walden. As it was, I very much doubted they would go against him, even if they did think I would go flying to the authorities at the first chance. No wonder they hated me. If I were in their shoes, I would naturally hate me, too. I had the potential to ruin them, and currently there was nothing they could do about it.

“Exactly,” I said, trying to make my voice sound brave. “And it’s done Charlie a world of good,” I patted him on the head. “Just think how uncivilized he might be with it.”

Charlie glanced over at me and before I realized it, I was smiling back. Reid swore under his breath and got up for another serving, kicking his chair in as he walked away.

“You guys act like you’ve been raised by wolves.”

He raised his eyebrows up and down playfully. “Maybe we were.”

“Ha, ha.”

The doors swung open, hitting the wall loudly. Polo and Yuri walked in, yelling something about a horse and someone’s mother. I figured it was a joke I didn’t want to hear the punch line to.

“You’re an idiot; you need to stop talking to me,” Yuri said to Polo.

They smelled like sweat and oil. I felt myself go still in my seat. I was just beginning to adapt to my environment. Why did things have to change every five seconds?

Yuri got his wish when I turned my head and Polo saw Charlie and me sitting together. He gasped like a cartoon character and rushed at us, practically sliding into us both before Charlie held out his hands to keep him back.

“Easy there, boy.”

“Hi, you guys!” He knelt between us and wrapped an arm around each of our shoulders. From the corner of my eye I could see Yuri and Reid glaring at us and whispering back and forth.

“I’ve been wondering about you guys all day! Where’ve you been? Causing trouble without me?” His laugh reminded me of a hyena.

“Strictly a trouble-free zone.” I tried to remove his arm without offending him, but he didn’t even seem to notice. Charlie shot me a sort of apologetic look and went up for another serving.

The moment he was gone, Polo stole his seat and scooted himself closer. “Oh man, oh man, oh man! It’s a real good thing you didn’t die!” The unnatural enthusiasm in his voice was symmetrical with the tapping of his fingers on the table and the endless stomping of his feet on the chair legs. His energy was contagious and I felt myself bucking up.

“Thanks, Polo. I think so, too.”

“No, but like, really!” In addition to everything else, he started swinging his head back and forth. I thought with a couple of instruments he could be one of those one man bands carnivals are always advertising.

“If you had, I think Charlie woulda like…killed everybody!” He spread his tapping fingers across the table for emphasis.

I nodded, but didn’t really know what he meant. With his childlike demeanor, there was a strong possibility that he was probably just confused or exaggerating.

Reid and Yuri came back but sat at the other side of the table as far away as they could get. Charlie sat on the other side of me. I was much more comfortable when he did. After a couple of minutes, the silence was getting to me. For this, I entirely blame my parents. They always insisted on those wholesome family dinners, the kind without television and lots of substantial conversation. I could get that these guys spent most of their day together, but eating in complete silence like this was maddening.

I crunched on the crust of my bread and tried to laugh. “If any of you guys is the chef, I could give you some pointers.”

Yuri wasn’t as obvious with his scowl, but Reid slammed down his spoon, having no problems expressing himself. “Ungrateful little bitch! You really complaining—”

“I wasn’t complaining.” The eagerness to defend myself made me speak before thinking. Needless to say, I was surprised that it shut him up. As I looked away, however, I realized it wasn’t my words that had made him retreat, but the look on Charlie’s face. It made Reid back down instantly.

I couldn’t help but feel as though I had once again been the source of his anger. His eyes caught mine and softened slightly—I most desperately wanted to see him smile.

“I didn’t realize you boys were so sensitive.”

Even Yuri laughed then.

“Guess not.” He took out a switchblade from his pocket and began sharpening the pencil. I tried to remember which pocket he had put the Wi-Fi card in, but for the life of me, couldn’t. It was then I realized that I hadn’t even batted an eye when I saw him take out the knife and begin working the point of the pencil. It was stupid of me not to be terrified of something that could kill me; I registered the fact in my mind. Yet it didn’t weigh against me—if given the choice, I knew Charlie alone wouldn’t hurt me.

“Where are you from?” I asked

“Why do ya wanna know?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“It’s not fair that you can look up almost anything about me, but I know almost nothing about you. Besides, I’m just going to figure it out, anyway. I don’t have to tell you how helpful the Internet can be.”

He sighed. “All over.”

I looked at him and began tapping my fingers. I could wait. And if I couldn’t, I could start listing the names of states, their capitals and cities, both major and minor, across the United States until he grew impatient enough to give it away.

“You’re right.” It wasn’t what I expected to hear him say and I guess my confusion must have shown.

“When you go home…now that I’m a big criminal and all, they’ll be saying all kinds of stuff ‘bout me.”

I shuddered at the thought. “I don’t want to imagine the kinds of things they might be writing about me right now.”

He suddenly burst out laughing and lit another cigarette. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? Your America’s Sweetheart right now—pretty girl, good family, genius smart. The only bad stuff their sayin’ is ‘bout your Dad, ‘cause he’s cursing out the cops.”

I turned my head and cleared my throat, trying to make it sound like a laugh. Of all the information he had given me, I couldn’t get over that he had described me as attractive. Had he actually called me pretty or did the media just describe me that way? Logic suggested that he was just using generalizations, but I still felt myself grow giddy at the idea. Or at least I think I did—that couldn’t have been hope I was feeling, could it?

“I’m not ‘genius smart.’” I used air quotes for emphasis. “I just graduated from high school early.”

He raised a single eyebrow. “An IQ of 136?”

“My Mom rigged those. I’m sure of it.”

He smiled and erased something from the sketch. “I doubt it.”

I turned over my paper and started over. “Hmm…I’ve never heard of ‘all over,’ is that in the Northwest?”

He looked up from his sketch and grinned his Charlie grin. It gave me a flush of happiness to realize I could identify his grin from that of any other.

“You always gotta be such a smart-ass?”

I smiled. “Only when I’ve been abducted against my will.”

His smile fell then and I knew that I’d hit a sore spot. But maybe that was a good thing. Realistically, we shouldn’t have been enjoying each other’s company, laughing at one another, and most especially, feeling so comfortable. While I did feel safe around him and I was certain he wouldn’t allow me to be hurt, I had to remind myself of why I was here and who we were. For the next few days we could be cordial enough, but the fact remained that we were not, and could not be, friends.

“You’re putting me to shame over there, aren’t you?” I tried to peek over the sketchbook, but he shielded it protectively. I went back to drawing a Christmas tree, the only thing I knew how to draw with any symmetry.

My hand sculpted some cliché garland and somewhat circular ornaments. I always thought Mom had been a little disappointed that Robbie and I didn’t really show any natural talent towards art. She never intentionally showed it, of course. But eventually her attempts at art and crafts became collages and a ceaseless end of birdhouses and papier mâché abstractions. Besides, I was more prone to art history, anyway. Mom, who kept scrapbooks of all the museums she ever visited, would adore a talent like Charlie.

I took my paper and slid over next to Charlie. I then immediately scolded myself for liking his scent: clove, soap, and the salt of the sea.

He flipped the sketchbook over so I couldn’t see and took my drawing. Almost immediately he erupted with laughter. It was a sweet and hearty sound, crisp with its musical quality.

“What?” I shrugged. “I told you I couldn’t draw!”

He flipped it over and looked at the smiley face attempt. “You weren’t kiddin’!”

“Ha, ha. Now quit avoiding my question and answer me.”

He stifled his laugher. “What?”

“Where are you from?”

Pausing, he eventually answered, “South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee…”

“Were you a military kid?”

“No.” The short simplicity of his answer suggested the conversation might be over, but I wasn’t going to let him get away that easy.

“How long were you in prison?”

He hesitated before answering. “Eleven years.”

“So much for learning your lesson?” I tried to laugh.

He only nodded.

“What about your family?” I asked. “What do they think about what you do for a living?”

Immediately I knew by the raw expression on his face that it was the wrong question to ask. His eyes became squinted lines in his face—he was trying to hold something back, my guess was rage.

“Don’t got any,” he said finally.

But I wasn’t going to let that go, either. On a technical level, everyone had to have the minimum of a biological mother and father, and the mystery that was Charlie Hays was only growing with my own personal fascination for him. I suddenly wanted to know everything about him. Why had he moved around so much? What led him to a life of crime? I was sure the marvel of it all would kill me before he would.

“When I first saw you together, I thought you and Ben were brothers.”

He considered this. “We kinda are. All of us are.”

I laughed. “Were you always an orphan before you knew the guys?”

He pulled away from me then. Maybe he could see what I was trying to get out of him. He looked at me quizzically. His eyes seemed as though they were looking for something particular in mine.

“Why are you askin’ so many questions?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think maybe it’s the scientist in me…but it could also be because I’m trying to understand. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

He laughed. “A criminal, you mean?”

“No. Well, yes…but I also mean you.”

His face became unreadable, completely expressionless. I tried to guess if he was angry at me or just plain annoyed. “I didn’t have an old man and my Ma took off when I was real little.”

I tried chewing over that information. Losing Mom was hard enough, I couldn’t imagine not having at least one of my parents.

“Who took care of you?”

“The state sometimes…”

He smiled at me as if I had been privy to an inside joke. “I’d get bored with the families they’d stick me with and run off after ’while.”

I smiled. “The ‘all over’ makes sense now.”

“See, ya are a genius after all.”

I tagged him in the arm, feeling confident enough to attempt to change the subject.

“So do you guys kidnap people all of the time, or am I your first attempt in this racket?”

He glanced up at me, the corners of his mouth threatening a smile. “This is a trial run. I figure the next one will have to actually be worth some money, not ask so many questions—”

I lost all of my humor and felt myself grow cold. “That isn’t funny.”

“Don’t worry.” He looked me up and down. “You ain’t got any competition.” He laughed, but it was too hollow to have any heart in it.

I also wanted to say something, but he beat me to it. “Yeah, I know it ain’t funny.”

I put my arms over my chest to be defiant, but he just laughed and pushed some of the hair away from my face. I gave in again, laughing along with him while trying to pull together the large mounds of locks. “It’s horrendous, I know. I wish I had a hair-tie. I’d even settle for a rubber band if you have one—”

Suddenly, a hair-tie appeared in Charlie’s hand. More amazingly, it was the same one that had fallen out during our initial struggle. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and dangled it as though it were a delicacy. I held out my hand as he centered it in my palm. The tie was covered in lead and dust, but I was still happy to have it. I closed my fingers around it with only a fraction of Charlie’s hand enclosed within my own. I could hear his breath increase, but for the moment I was focused only on his hand. I saw small scars, some newer than others, with fresh cuts and scrapes on the surface. I felt the lead rubbing off on my skin from the same places where the calluses were at their roughest. And there was a satisfaction in knowing that it wasn’t just ship work that had earned him these hands…