Flashing Her Gators

by Romy Lockhart

  “You think he might want some pancakes?” she asks. “I could bring some over...”

  “He doesn’t really like breakfast,” I say, as if this isn’t a conversation we’ve had every other day for years. Dad stopped caring about the first meal of the day when my mom died. I was a kid then, but I remember it well, considering I actually like breakfast. Kind of why I was over here every chance I got.

  “Well, maybe I can bring over dinner later?”

  I nod. “Cool. He’d like that.”

  “Misty isn’t really dating that boy Justin,” she tells me. “But she likes him, I can tell. Maybe she’s finally ready to make this old woman a grandmother.”

  I start to choke, grab my glass of water and ease the mouthful of bacon down. Misty, settling down? I don’t see it. Not now. Maybe never. There was definitely something between her and that Chinese guy though. I frown at the remains on my plate. I ate almost all of the extra. The food I didn’t really need.

  “You seriously think she might date that guy?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

  She smiles, and shrugs. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you’re not going win her back if you don’t put your cards on the table.”

  Trouble is I already did. Sure, it was years ago. We were still dumb teenagers. But Misty hadn’t wanted to hear it. She wouldn’t explain why. Just locked me out of her life as if I was dead to her.

  “Yeah, sure. Maybe,” I say, getting up.

  She shakes her head at me. “You’re going to miss your chance with that girl of mine. And she’s not the type to give anyone a second shake.”

  I smile wryly. “Don’t I know it.”

  “Tell your daddy I’ll bring over steak casserole at six.”

  I nod, heading for the door. “See you later, Ms Gordon.”

  Sixteen

  Misty

  I think the whole experience at my mom’s is still bothering Just. Probably doesn’t help that I couldn’t find the words to explain myself once we left. He was quiet about it, I wasn’t talking. Made for an awkward ride back to the motel. Every time he opened his mouth, turned my way and then thought better of it, I felt a little worse.

  He tries again when he parks the van at the motel. Clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair and turns to me. I freeze, waiting. I can’t start. I don’t know what to tell him. Why the hell did I say he was my boyfriend?

  He sighs, shakes his head and gets out. The door shuts and I undo my seatbelt, getting out before he can rush too far ahead. I have the keys to the room. He seems to realize this and slows his pace to get back there.

  I know I’m going to have to say something. I’m just not sure what.

  He steps out of the way to let me open the door, crossing his arms across his chest and looking away.

  “Justin,” I start, drawing his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  He frowns. “It’s fine.”

  No. It’s not. But I can’t explain it. Everything feels so twisted up right now.

  “I’m going to send Tom my list and then I have to meet my contact in town in an hour or so.”

  He nods. “Okay. Where are we...”

  “I need to meet him alone,” I lie, wondering how many lies it’s going to take me to get out of this town alive and without entangling myself in something with someone.

  Damn. I don’t even know who that entanglement might be with at this point. Kind of why I need to speak to Marina alone. If anyone can help me get through this, it’s her.

  “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” Justin asks, his frown back and deepening.

  “No. I know him. He won’t talk if I bring a stranger.” This is true of Ty. He doesn’t need to know I already met him last night while he was sleeping.

  “Well, then...” He shrugs and heads for his bag. He picks a book out of it.

  “Sorry, Just. I know this probably isn’t that much fun for you.”

  “It’s fine.” He sits down on his bed.

  It’s not, but I have work to do. So I do it, and then I leave.

  Seventeen

  Justin

  Misty leaves about an hour after we get back to the motel. I give up trying to read once I realize I’ve gotten through one five page chapter without absorbing a word of it. My thoughts kept distracting me, pulling me back to crazy morning we had together at her Mom’s house. She feels something for Sam, the guy walked right in to the place as if it was his.

  The effect he had on her was obvious. The whole atmosphere in the room changed when he came into the room. Then she broke out the pretend boyfriend play, and any hope I had of kindling something with her on this trip was well and truly torn apart.

  She’s interested in him. She can’t be interested in me.

  My cell vibrates in my pocket for the fifth time in an hour and I pull it out with a sigh. Five texts from my brother. I don’t need to read them to know what they’re about.

  He thinks I should be in Misty’s pants by now. He’ll take a shot at her if I’m not. And so on.

  I groan, dragging myself to my feet. Shouldn’t have let myself hope this trip might bring us closer. She’s out of my league, always has been. So what if sometimes she spares a glance my way? It doesn’t mean anything. Not now that I’ve seen what it looks like when she’s really into someone.

  The six-five smart-ass football-player owns at least a piece of her heart.

  I look at James’ texts as I pick up the TV remote. I was on the money. Sighing, I start typing to reply.

  Everything I want to say to get him off my back sounds false. She’s been flirting. She’s been looking at me like she might be interested. Feels kind of pathetic now.

  He wants to know if I’ve made my move yet. I haven’t.

  Seems like she might be into another guy, is what I end up typing. Feeling sorry for myself, I put on the TV and lay back down on my bed. My phone starts vibrating and I see my brother’s calling me.

  Holding back a groan, I lower the volume on the reality show and answer the call.

  “Hey,” I mutter.

  “So, what’s happening?” he asks.

  “Nothing much,” I tell him. “Just stuck in a motel room watching dumb TV shows.”

  “Misty with you?”

  “She’s out,” I say, not bothering to explain.

  “So you’re sharing a room?”

  Ugh. I shouldn’t have let that slip. Too late to take it back though. He always knows when I’m making stuff up. It doesn’t help that I’m not a very convincing liar.

  “There are two beds,” I tell him, as if he doesn’t know that.

  “So push them together, dipshit.”

  Great. He’s already breaking out the insults.

  “I’m kind of busy so...”

  “So shut up and listen.” He sounds exasperated. “You’re sharing a room with the hottest woman you’ve ever known. There’s zero excuse for not making a move.”

  “She’s into someone else.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “How can it not matter? She’s not interested...”

  “She’d have to be an idiot not to be interested, Just. The only thing that’s stopped you so far is yourself. Take her out to dinner tonight. Do all the romantic holding the door open for her kind of shit you waste on random people every day. Compliment her on her dress or whatever, and hold her gaze before you look her over in an obvious way. She’ll know, and you’ll be in.”

  His words sink in slowly. I’m sticking on the part where he tells me I’m getting in my own way here. He’s probably right. I haven’t asked her out because I’m never sure enough to put myself out there like that. I’m too afraid to get knocked back. Because then I’ll know. Any hope I’ve been holding onto will be gone, and I’ll have to move on from the idea of us.

  “You still there, Just?”

  “I’m still here.” He’s actually making sense. Not just spouting sexual innuendo and calling me a pussy because I haven’t slept with
her.

  “Make your move tonight. Don’t waste another fucking second. It’s crazy that she’s been single for this long, Just, and you know it. If some other guy is sniffing around, you need to seal the deal before he makes his move.”

  Damn. He’s right. I wish he wasn’t.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I mumble back, feeling kind of panicky at the thought of it.

  “Good. Call me back when you’ve grown a pair. I want details.”

  He hangs up and I groan as I put the phone down on the bed. I know nothing good ever comes easy, but now I’m anxious waiting for her to get back. And it’s hours before we can actually go get dinner. I sit down and try to watch the TV. My mind keeps wandering.

  What if Misty isn’t with her informer? What if she’s with that guy? The blond football coach. I seriously hope not. He has zero confidence issues. He’d probably fuck her in the back of his car or on her mother’s kitchen table without a second thought.

  James is right. I need to ask her out before that guy gets a chance to.

  I try to calm my thoughts. There’s nothing I can do now but wait. I just wish it didn’t feel like that’s the one thing that’ll kill me.

  Eighteen

  Misty

  Marina has dark wavy hair that falls all the way down to her waist. She favors brick-red lipstick that she somehow manages to keep on her lips regardless of how much she bites them, or how much she nervously eats when she’s freaking out, and her sea-blue eyes always appear to be wide, alert.

  She’s already sitting in a booth in the cafe when I arrive, and waves me over when she glances up and spots me. “Mist, it’s been so long!” She gets up to hug me briefly before I sit down.

  “Too long,” I tell her, slinging my handbag into the seat opposite hers.

  She nods, taking a sip of the suspiciously alcoholic looking drink in front of her.

  “Is that a Pina Colada?”

  She laughs. “Yes, and no. It’s virgin.”

  Still kinda weird since she’s always been a hot chocolate kind of girl. I guess at least the cocktail, alcohol or no, still has cream in it. Maybe that’s the appeal.

  I get comfy and resign myself to the fact that brunch just became coffee.

  The waitress comes to take our order and Marina frowns at me when I tell her I’m not ordering food.

  “Misty...” she starts, a warning in her tone, before I cut her off.

  “Oh, fine. I’ll have a chicken salad. No dressing and go easy on the cheese.” It’s probably still going straight to my ass. I’ll have to just fill up on the lettuce to make it look like I’m eating more.

  The waitress leaves and Marina shakes her head.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been on some kind of crazy diet,” Marina starts.

  I laugh. “Do I seriously look like I’m on a diet?”

  “Well, then...”

  “My mom practically force-fed me pancakes an hour ago. With bacon, no less.”

  “Oh,” she says, taking another sip of her drink. “Well that explains it.”

  “So, you wanted to talk to me about something?”

  She nods, but her gaze drifts from mine. “We should wait until the food comes. This place is great and all, but the waitresses are like ping-pong balls until they’ve asked how everything is, like two minutes after you pick up your fork.”

  “Sure,” I say, pressing my lips together. “So how are things in town?”

  “Ugh,” she groans. “This place.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I shouldn’t complain. I have a decent job that I actually like and my boss is fine with me working from home half of the time, but some days I feel like I’m going stir-crazy. Like I’m going to explode if I don’t get the hell out of here.” She fluffs up her hair with one hand, sighing deeply. “Take me with you when you leave?”

  She’s only halfway joking. There’s real longing in her eyes even if she might never act on it. We’re friends for a lot of reasons, but the mutual desire to escape this place was what turned us into BFF’s in high school.

  “You need a vacation,” I tell her, offering a solution that won’t force her to uproot her life.

  Her blue eyes light up instantly. “Oh. Yes. That sounds like heaven. When can I visit?”

  I laugh at her enthusiasm, shaking my head. “Let me get through this week, and we’ll talk.”

  “Sorry,” she says, pulling a face. “Any chance I get to leave makes me so freaking excited. It’s kind of pathetic.”

  “It’s understandable.”

  The waitress plonks down my coffee, sloshing some over the cup into the saucer. Marina asks her for another virgin cocktail, swirling her straw through what remains of the first one.

  “I just feel like there’s got to be more out there,” Marina says, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth. “I’ve been saving for a trip to Europe, but it’s going to take me forever. I think my boss would give me a few months’ hiatus to do it and come back though. So that’s a plus.”

  “Who’s your boss? I think we need to switch.”

  She shakes her head at me. “You can’t have Damien.” She leans forward and whispers, “He’s all mine.”

  I raise an eyebrow, and lean forward, lowering my voice, “You’re banging your boss?”

  She snorts. “I wish! You should see him. He’s like a sculpture of the perfect man brought to life by the smartest witch ever. I don’t know why she got tired of him, but he’s apparently single now so...”

  “You can’t bang your boss.”

  “Duh,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I know how good I’ve got it. I wouldn’t ruin it like that. But a girl can fantasize.”

  “Of course.” My thoughts drift to my own situation. One epic dry spell and three hot men showing some sort of interest. Why does that sound like bragging? She’ll only tell me to take it where I can get it. I should keep my mouth shut.

  The waitress brings Marina her drink and takes the empty glass away.

  “So, how ‘bout you?” Marina asks, clearing her throat. “Any tasty fish on the line?”

  “Um...” I start, wondering if she’s psychic for a second. She always seems to know what I’m thinking about, but we do know each other pretty well.

  “Oh wow. Someone caught Misty’s eye. Who’s the lucky guy?” She sips on her drink, raising her eyebrows at me at the same time.

  “Guy?” I ask.

  “It’s a girl?”

  “It’s an impossible decision.”

  “Oh. Oh!” She nods. “Okay, so then who are the lucky guys?”

  Should I really tell her? She is my best friend, but once it’s out there, there’s no taking it back and I’m not totally sure I’m ready to admit some of what I’m thinking here. So I clear my throat and start with the easy part.

  “The camera guy I dragged out here has a thing for me. Justin,” I tell her.

  “Well, it’s been a while so maybe you should grab Justin’s thing before he gives it to someone else,” she suggests.

  I hold back a snort. “I don’t know if I should even really be thinking about his thing. Seems like a bad idea to sleep with someone I work with.”

  “Well, maybe. But it’s not like he’s your boss, right?” She raises her eyebrows and I wonder just how bad she has it for that apparently dreamy boss of hers. If she’s bitten as deeply as I think she is, she’s close to letting her libido do her thinking with that guy.

  Kind of a shame my own is a little more stand-offish I guess. I hold back a sigh. She’s right. Working with Justin is only an excuse. “He’s just such a sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “So don’t.” She pushes her drink to the side and leans in again. “I don’t know why you seem to think men exist solely to scratch an itch, but if you find a good one it doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “I know,” I say, wishing that knowledge would properly sink in. I do know, in theory. I’m just too chicken-shit terrified to find out if i
t’s true in practice.

  “You’re scared to get hurt,” Marina says, departing from her jovial tone suddenly. “I get it. It sucks that there are so many assholes out there, but there are at least a few diamonds hidden among them. If he’s a sweetheart, you should give him a chance.”

  Am I just scared to get hurt? Is that really what’s wrong?

  “So who’s the other guy?” Marina asks looking up as the waitress brings our food.

  I look disdainfully at my salad. I suppose it doesn’t matter if it tastes as unappetizing as it looks. I mostly got it to poke around with my fork while my friend eats her lunch.

  “Everything good here?” The waitress asks.

  “Yes, thanks,” Marina says, sending her away and breathing out a sigh. “Well, now we can really talk. Where were we?”

  “Yeah,” I agree, eager to steer the conversation away from my love life or lack of it. “So why did you need to speak to me so badly when I got here? It sounded serious.”

  She sighs. “Okay, so, I know why you’re here.”

  “You do.” I’m not that surprised. She’s almost as nosy as I am, after all. The only real shock is knowing it’s only Tyler who could have told her I was coming back to town.

  “The murders,” she says, picking up her fork and poking at her food before looking at me.

  “Well, yeah,” I confirm it, waiting for her to go on.

  She nods. “Animal attacks, the papers are calling them. Everyone’s freaked out. Thing is, most of the victims were found indoors. Kind of weird if you ask me. Porch doors have been found open, but it’s still pretty bizarre.”

  It is, but it’s less strange when you consider the fact that the murder was a shifter. He, or she, could have gotten inside, shifted and attacked, and then changed back to human to leave.

  “So you figured out it’s a gator thing.”

  “Well, yeah, but I’m sure Tyler already told you that.” She bites down on her lip for a second before she releases it and continues. “He can’t be trusted, Misty. I know you had a thing with him for five seconds in college. I know he’s handsome, and he’s got a seriously sexy brooding PI thing going on, but he’s bad news.”