“That’s the plan, Gov,” Preppy agrees. “Sans penicillin, of course.”
The governor nods. “Of course.”
“When do you think you’ll be ready to harvest?” The governor asks, moving to stand between me and Preppy. The three of us gaze out over the vast field and years of backbreaking hard work.
Preppy looks to me to answer.
“In the next couple of months. We have processors coming in to get it all wrapped up and ready for distribution,” I say.
“Excellent. If this all works, you better start looking for land for more fields.” The governor shakes both of our hands. “Nice doing business with you boys. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Denny, the field manager, drives up in his golf cart. “Denny, would you mind giving the governor a ride to his car?” I ask.
“Sure thing, boss,” Denny says.
“Thank God. It’s hot as balls out today, fellas,” the governor says. He gets in Denny’s cart, and with a wave, they’re off to the other side of the field.
“I need to ask you something,” I say to Preppy, the governor’s words on my mind.
“No, I’m not going to tell you where I stash my good coke,” Preppy deadpans without looking up from the book he’s reading. “Besides, it’s under lock and key, so you won’t be able to get to it even if you know where it is. Good parenting and all that.”
“No, it’s something else.”
“I’m all ears and huge cock,” Preppy says with a wink, waving me onto continue.
“So, where would you take a girl around here?” I avert my eyes from Preppy.
Preppy shrugs and scratches his beard. “I’m glad you came to me with this. Let me think. I mean, male or female really has nothing to do with the location. It’s more like weight and height and how many parts we’re talking about. Disposal is an art form, but if the body fits in a boat, you can ride out to all sorts of places—”
“No, not to dump a body,” I interrupt. “That you’ve already taught me. I mean to take her out. You know, for fun.”
“Trick question, because wherever I go becomes fun.”
I roll my eyes. “Nevermind, I’ll go ask Dre.”
“No, wait! I’ve got you, brother. But, dude, you’ve lived here for years. You know what’s around here just as well as I do by now.”
“No, I know that the trailer with the meth-heads who don’t blow themselves up weekly is three banyan trees past the stop light on the left in the woods. I know which farm stand doesn’t buy their produce at the big box store before trying to sell it off as farm fresh. I know which liquor store doesn’t water down their booze—”
“Which one?” Preppy asks, perking up.
I grin. “None of them. They all do it. I was just seeing if you were paying attention.”
“Touché, my bro. Continue.”
“I know what strip clubs to find the bikers in. I know which roads to take to avoid the cops. The point is that all of the places I know aren’t places to take a girl. They aren’t date places.”
Preppy raises an eyebrow. “They aren’t? ‘Cause I’m not gonna lie. They all sound like a pretty fuckin’ good time.”
I harden my gaze.
“Okay. Okay. But you’re missing the big picture here. It’s not what bar has cleaner bathrooms or about taking her to a billion-course dinner. If we’re talking about Lenny here, then she had all that, and did it make her happy?”
I sigh and shake my head because happy is something that Lenny is not, and from the way she talks about her anxiety, it started way before Jared, uh, disappeared.
“Okay, so if you really want to impress this girl, don’t just take her somewhere you think she’ll like. SHARE something with her. Something that has to do with you. Something you dig.”
I’m waiting for the usual punchline, but it never comes. As his words sink in, an idea comes to mind. “Thanks, Prep.”
I turn around to leave. I’ve got one foot onto the path leading to my RV when Preppy calls out to me, “You know, if the date thingy doesn’t work out, text me her height and weight, and I’ll meet you at the boat!”
I turn around to flip him a middle finger. I expect him to be laughing, but his face his completely serious.
“Tell me something, brother. Are you all shook up over this girl because she’s the girl from the bridge? Or because she’s from the rich side of town? Or because Ricci’s men are after her? Or because you killed her boyfriend? Or because you want to hit it like—”
“Yes.”
“Eh, it could be worse.”
“It could be worse?” I throw my hands in the air. “How the fuck could it be any worse?”
Bo appears from within the office holding a large Ziploc bag with something white in it.
I point to the bag and try to get Preppy’s attention. “Uh, Preppy? Is that…”
Preppy spins around and snatches the bag from Bo’s hand. “Bo, where did you get this?”
“From the safe, behind your desk. Under the floorboards. I heard you talking to Uncle Nine about your good coke, so I broke into it and got it for you.” Bo smiles proudly.
Preppy crouches down so he’s eye to eye with his son. “What did I tell you about things like this?”
His little smile flattens. “No hard drugs until I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. But I didn’t try it. It would stunt my growth. I was just trying to help, Daddy. I swear.”
Preppy stands. “Go inside, and wait for me. We’ve got to have a little talk.”
“Another one?” Bo whines.
“Yeah, buddy, another one.”
Bo goes inside the office, and Preppy blows out a long breath. He looks torn.
“You gonna be okay, Prep?” I ask.
He runs his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I am. I uhh…I’m just a little mixed up right now.”
I wait for him to elaborate.
“Like, on one hand, I’m pissed because my kid broke into my safe and brought me a bag of my good coke, but on the other hand…” His eyes gloss over, but he doesn’t look upset. He looks…proud? “He knows what good coke is.”
I leave Preppy to have a chat with his son and head back to the RV. I think about the list of reasons Preppy gave me as to why I’m so pissed off and annoyed at the situation with Lenny, and they don’t seem right. They don’t seem right because they aren’t right. I already know the real reason why I’m so bothered, but I can’t admit it yet, even to myself.
Because you can’t lose her again.
* * *
When I step inside my RV, I find Lenny sitting on the kitchen counter still in my t-shirt with the bottle of vodka between her legs. I can see her navy-blue panties behind the clear glass and do my best to seem indifferent although my cock jumps at the sight, remembering how she tasted on my tongue, how she came undone screaming my name.
“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity,” she says, softly, adding, “Edgar Allan Poe.” As if I don’t know where the quote came from. As if I haven’t read or reread everything the man ever wrote after the night on the bridge.
“So, what’s the plan, Stan?” she asks, her voice raspy and sad.
“Plan?”
“Yes. The plan. What are you waiting for? What am I waiting for?” She rests both hands on the neck of the bottle. “Are you waiting to find Jared or waiting to figure out if I’m a liar before you let me go? And if I am a liar, are you just going to off me and dump me in the swamp like the severed head?” She hiccups, and I notice a slight slur in her speech. “Or, are you just waiting for Ricci’s men to magically lose interest in me? Or are you planning on keeping me here forever and evers?” Hiccup. “I’m a bird in a cage. Again.” She takes another gulp of vodka and rests it on her thigh, leaning the neck of the bottle toward me as she talks. “I’ve been that bird before. Been there. Done that. And you know what? It was totally my fault. I trapped myself. Me, me, me, and only me. But, I can for sure tell you, I didn’t like it all that muc
h.” She scrunches her nose. “Nope, didn’t like it at alls.”
I take the bottle from her and set it to the side. “No cages. I don’t know the long-term plan yet. I’m still trying to figure all this out.”
She picks the bottle right back up. “But you’re still looking for him, right? Because when you find him, I’ve got some things I need to get off my chest.”
“Yeah, I’m still looking.”
For the money, anyway.
“How, how are you looking?” she demands to know.
“I’ve been hacking into his work server. Bank records. Paper trails. Anything I can think of.” That part is true.
“Hacking? You good with computers or something? Because, and I’m only being honest here, I don’t really see you as the computer nerd type.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I tell her.
“Ditto,” she says tipping the bottle to her mouth.
“I’m still trying to figure all this out, Lenny.”
“Is that why you left before? Because you are just trying to figure it all out?” Her eyes are glassy and rimmed in red.
“You can say that.” I push the hair from her eyes. She yanks away and I ball my fist before dropping it to my side.
“I just did say that,” she argues. Hiccup. “I just don’t like being left alls alone is all. At least, not without a goodbye. Jared lefted me. You lefted me.” Her unfocused eyes meet mine. “Bridge boy lefted me.”
My mouth goes dry. “Bridge boy?” I ask, making sure I heard her correctly.
Hiccup. “Yup, bridge boy lefted me.” She picks up the bottle once again and take a healthy swig. “Well, technically I left him. I slipped and went down, down, down. All my fault. Never even got his name. He probably thinks I’m dead. I should be dead. But nope.” She holds out her arms. “Surprise! Totally not a dead. Nope. Not dead at all. I crawled to the shore and barfed up half the bay and walked home barefoot. Watched them dragging the river from the other side, but they never found me.” She giggles then whispers, “Because I wasn’t in there.” She sighs. “Good times.” Her words are slurred, but it does nothing to dull their impact. “I thinks about hims every day. Bridge Boy. Where he is? What he’s doing? If he has a goldfish named Bam-Bam?” She giggle-snorts.
My heart lurches just as Lenny sways and starts to fall sideways off the counter. I catch both her and the vodka, setting them both upright. “I definitely don’t think he has a fish named Bam-Bam,” I say, lifting her into my arms. She’s so tiny and weighs practically nothing. I easily carry her to my bed and lay her down, covering her with the blanket.
Her eyes are closed, and I think she’s asleep, but after a few seconds she whispers. “Do you think bridge boy thinks of me?”
The second the question leaves her lips, she begins to lightly snore.
I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Only every fucking day.”
Chapter Nineteen
LENNY
It’s been a few days since my drunken melt down and I’m still a bird in a cage, only my cage is a future meth lab that is Nine’s RV.
Nine and I have barely spoken. During the day he works in the office next to the field. I spend my time drinking while watching mindless TV or drinking while reading one of the books from the stack underneath the TV. Surprisingly, I found a collection of Edgar Allen Poe Poetry that I’ve read twice since I’ve been here, but hundreds of times before.
Some days, I switch it up and just drink.
At night I make a big show over sleeping on the couch by myself only to wake up in bed circled up next to Nine unsure of how exactly I got there. I’m alone. Well, I’m sort of alone. Either Pike or one of the Lawless MC brothers are standing guard outside the door at all times, taking turns bringing me food and thankfully, vodka.
I’ve just showered and wrapped myself in a towel. I’m searching my bag for a hair tie. I cheer when I find one at the bottom of my bag. The RV door opens and I jump up, wrapping the towel tighter around my naked body.
Pike’s head appears as he leans in through the open door. “Hey, pretty girl. Get ready. I’m going to take you to meet him in ten minutes.”
The door shuts before I can tell him that I don’t have any clothes to put on. I stomp my foot in frustration and spin around to face the kitchen.
I spot two pairs of stretchy athletic shorts and a couple of racer-back white tank tops that have somehow magically appeared on the counter while I was in the shower.
I get dressed quickly. The shorts are shorter than I like to wear, and if I bend over, I’m pretty sure my ass is going to hang out. The tank tops fits perfectly. Snug, but made of thick enough cotton that won’t tell the world that I’m not wearing a bra. It’s a nice change to put on real clothes instead of wearing only panties and one of Nine’s shirts.
Pike is waiting me for me outside in a black van.
I get in with Baby Vodka on my lap and fasten the seatbelt over the two of us. “So how about that job?” I ask Pike with a bright smile that says I know my question is ridiculous, but I’m going to ask it anyway.
He glances down at Baby Vodka and cocks his head, probably confused at to why I’m treating it like a small child. What he doesn’t know is that it’s all I have and I’m a grown woman and I’ll treat this bottle of vodka like a baby if I damn want to. Surprisingly, all he says is, “You do know that children shouldn’t ride on laps. Didn’t you learn anything from Britney?” He pulls out of the field.
I pet the bottle. “We don’t like to be separated.”
Pike leans over me with one hand on the wheel and searches through his glove compartment. He finds what he’s looking for and clicks it shut, handing me a black leather flask with silver initials on the front that read PLV. “Here, you can keep it.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying to keep a steady hand while pouring vodka from the bottle into the tiny hole in the flask while Pike drives.
Pike sighs. “I want you to know that giving you the job isn’t my call, but if it was, no lie? I’d hire you in a heartbeat. You’d be great at it. Better than Trina, but then again, anyone would be better than Trina.”
“Then why does she work there?” I ask, screwing the top on the flask.
“She’s my cousin. Parents died a while back and I didn’t want her to be in the system so when I got out I got her out gave her a place to stay and a job. She’s…a unique individual. Only seventeen even though she’s been through more shit than most people twice her age.”
I think about my call with Lori when I asked her for a temporary place to stay. I wish she’d been half as generous as Pike is being with his cousin.
We pull up to a three-story house on stilts hidden behind a wall of brush lining the street. We pass a large garage to the left and keep rolling on the shell driveway until we stop next to the open parking area on the bottom level of the house.
“He’s back there,” Pike says, pointing straight ahead. I spot Nine sitting on the seawall behind the house overlooking the bay.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say sarcastically.
I take my flask and hop from the van. I eye Baby Vodka on the floor and contemplate bringing it with me.
Pike chuckles. “It’ll be in the RV when you get back.”
I nod and head toward Nine.
“Whose house is this?” I ask.
He turns around and shoves his hands in his pockets. “King and Ray’s,” he says, looking up at the house and shielding his eyes from the sun.
I join him on the seawall and look out over the bay. It’s surrounded on all sides by mangroves. In the very center is a small overgrown island. The sun is setting. It’s eerily quiet. The only sound is the occasional burping frog or squawking bird. Unlike me, it’s so calm. Peaceful even.
“What exactly are we doing out here?” I ask Nine. “Won’t King and Ray mind that we’re trespassing on their property?”
“Trust me. King won’t mind. They aren’t home anyway.”
He
glances at the flask in my hand. “Nice flask.”
“It’s Pikes. He gave it to me,” I tell him, tucking it into the elastic waistband of my shorts.
“Did he now…” His eyes linger on my exposed skin for a beat too long before he looks away. “What you said the other day, about Jared. I’ve been thinking about it.”
“What did I say exactly?” I ask raising my shoulders to my chin. “I remember hanging out with my friend Vodka, and she has a tendency to make things a wee bit fuzzy.”
Nine tilts his head to the side. The fading sun shining the day’s last light on his smooth, yet sharp jaw. “You were talking about how he left you alone. How you hated being left, and you were upset that he didn’t tell you that he was leaving.”
I remain silent. How he’s managed to come to know me so well confuses me but makes my heart swell. “I don’t care about Jared. I never did.”
“I didn’t say you did care. I said you were upset about being left alone, and it made me think that your buddy Vodka brought up some shit that you’re otherwise pushing down, but you should be able to feel however you need to feel to come out on the other side without visible scars. I don’t want the thought of Jared and what he did to stand between you and the rest of the fucking world.”
“He’s not between anything,” I insist. “The only things standing between me and the rest of the world is you. And not being able to leave the RV….” I think for a second. “Oh, and Ricci’s men.”
“Look, I read this book on anxiety,” he begins to say.
“When?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“Last night, when you were snoring away,” he smiles.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t snore.”
“Okay, we’ll call it an adorable purr, then. If it makes you feel better about it.”
I stick out my tongue like a child.
Nine, the Tale of Kevin Clearwater Page 16
