Runaway Girl

by Bailey, Tessa

  Especially since everything else in my life is suddenly up in the air.

  After Birdie’s meltdown in the department store dressing room yesterday, I’m not sure where we stand as contestant and coach. Competing might be too hard for her in light of her revelations about Natalie. If that’s the case, I will gladly bow out, wish her well and be on my way. The last thing I want is for her to continue training if it could affect her health and well-being negatively. I’ll miss her. I’ll be sad she never got the chance to compete, since I think she’s better than she realizes, but I won’t push.

  Not too hard, anyway.

  Every coach-contestant partnership hits a wall at some point. When I was seventeen, I pretended to have the chickenpox for a week so I wouldn’t have to practice. It took a very specific combination of mixed together pink and brown paint to make those spots convincing and they were the very devil to get off. In the end, I was found out. My parents confiscated my car keys for two weeks, leaving me to walk to and from pageant practice. To this day, I still think the punishment was worth lying in bed for a week and watching that Glee marathon.

  While I won’t pressure Birdie, I’m certainly not going to let her think I’ve given up on her after one bad afternoon. No, ma’am. Somewhere around midnight last night, it hit me. We’ve been approaching this pageant all wrong from the beginning. We have more than enough time to do it right, if Birdie is game. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  Walking out my front door and proceeding down the steps would be a good first move.

  Laptop cradled in my arms, I sway side to side in my sandals. Any time now, Naomi.

  I’ve always been nervous to run into Jason. The difference now is…I know why.

  Those feelings I admitted—silently to myself—did not dissipate overnight and I have no idea what to do about them. Every time I sit down to make a mental pro/con list on the merits of having romantic feelings for Jason, I keep getting lost in that moment in the dressing room. What a magnificent hero and brother he was. In so many ways, Jason is the same man who answered the front door with a scowl. In others, he’s changing for the better.

  Listen to yourself. I’ve been making a pro/con list about merely having feelings for the man. If I decide it’s okay to have feelings for Jason…what then? Nothing, that’s what. Yes, we shared a kiss, which was somehow more intimate than hoisting my booty into the air in his bedroom and pleasuring myself. It was…well, if I was more fanciful, I might even call it magical. However. Even if he was planning on staying in St. Augustine—which he’s not—I am bound for Charleston as soon as the pageant is over.

  That’s if Birdie even plans on competing anymore.

  I could be going back to Charleston a lot sooner than expected.

  Finally, I open the front door purely to distract myself from the growing knot in my chest. Laptop in one hand, the bottom of my skirt in the other so I won’t trip, I make my way down the stairs and across the driveway, which smells of lingering cigar smoke. Pungent and sweet. When I walk into the kitchen, I’m surprised to find Jason and Birdie sitting at the kitchen table staring into their mugs of coffee. Birdie is in a long nightshirt and Jason is wearing only board shorts as usual, his network of tattoos looking sharp and blue in the morning light. How anyone is supposed to have a relaxing cup of coffee with his nipples staring back at them is beyond me. Thankfully I already had mine. Coffee. Not nipples. And while I’ve been thinking about nipples and coffee a full fifteen seconds has passed, the three of us looking at each other.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  “No.” Birdie starts to stand up but sits back down. “I was worried I scared you off with my meltdown yesterday.”

  Jason leans back in his chair like a lazy lion, bringing his coffee mug to his lips. Lips I have now kissed. “I told her you wouldn’t scare off so easily.”

  Relax. He can’t hear your pulse racing. This is just like every other day. Nothing has changed. “Jason is right. I—”

  His coffee mug hits the table and he slowly sits forward. “What did you just call me?”

  Oh Lord. Everything has changed, hasn’t it? My mouth won’t cooperate now that I’ve admitted to…having complicated feelings for this man. “Yes, well…once you go dress shopping with a person, it’s only right to be on a first-name basis. I’m not sure how you do things here in Florida, but…that’s the system. And if it’s not broke don’t fix it.” Ignoring Jason’s open scrutiny, I slide into a kitchen chair. “Now then, Birdie. You’re not getting rid of me that easy. I spent the night thinking you’d send me on my way. I was checking traffic on my route to Charleston just in case.”

  Birdie deflates with relief. Jason turns a pale shade of green and slides his coffee away.

  “Birdie, do you still want to be in this pageant?”

  She takes a swallow of coffee. From the way she’s moving, I know her leg is jiggling beneath the table. “I think so.”

  “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “Yeah.”

  I reach across the table and take her coffee-warmed hand. “I think we’ve been so focused on winning this pageant for Natalie, we forgot to remember she’s not the one competing. You’re the one putting the work in. We can find a way to honor your sister and you at the same time.” I squeeze. “You both deserve the win.”

  Birdie doesn’t respond for so long, I’m not sure she ever will. “What’s with the laptop?” she asks finally.

  “I’m glad you asked.” I splay my hands on the lid and lift. “You’re an original. There was nothing in that store yesterday good enough. So I did a little searching. Fell down quite a few rabbit holes. Did you know there’s a whole duct tape prom dress trend? Anyway, I ended up digging through alternative gowns, handmade designs. Things like that.” The tab I saved last night opens and I turn the screen to face her. “How about something like this?”

  She sits forward, gaping at the retro, red and black checkered dress I found at the bottom of the internet last night. “Whoa.”

  Pleasure sifts around inside me. “You like it.”

  “If I pretend it’s not called Punk Rockin’ Pretty, I can definitely get behind it.” She seems afraid to smile. “Will they even let me compete in something like this?”

  I shrug. “If they tell us no, we’ll send your brother after them.”

  “Happy to help,” he says in that rusted morning voice. “The dress gets my vote, too. Looks like more your style, Birdie.”

  “Yeah.” She releases a long exhale. “Thanks, Naomi.”

  “Just doing my job.” I click the laptop shut and fold my hands on top of it. Trying not to show how relieved I am. It’s more than that, though. I’m pleased with myself. There was a problem and I found a unique solution. Maybe Birdie doesn’t have to be the first and last girl I coach. Would I be crazy to think I could do this as a full-time job with some success?

  Setting aside that thought for later, I return to the here and now. “Would you like to choose something different for the talent portion?”

  “No, let’s stick with the dance. We’re having a hard enough time getting it down without changing this late in the game.” A line forms between her brows. “I like the new dresses and making it a little about me. But I still want it mostly about Natalie, okay?”

  “Of course. We’ll balance it however we want.” I pat her arm. “I left open all the websites I found, so why don’t you hold on to my laptop for today. Let me know which ones you decide on and we’ll order them.”

  “Awesome.” Birdie gathers her hair and shoves it to the opposite side of her head. “Can we please change the subject now?”

  Jason taps a fist on the table. “I’m taking the boat out today. Who’s coming?”

  Birdie brightens. “Yeah? You going to let me dive?”

  “Once we get through a full lesson and you understand the safety precau—”

  “Yes or no, bro.”

  “Yeah.” He looks over at me, that brow raised almost in challen
ge. “You coming?”

  I want to say yes. There are so many reasons to say yes. I’ve seen Jason cleaning his boat and walking around most indecently in his half-zipped wet suit, but this could be my only chance to watch a Special Forces diver move expertly in the water. He’s staying true to his word and making an effort with his sister and without him saying a word, I know he’s hoping I’ll come along to help. I want to help. I want to watch them grow closer. To top it all off, scuba diving in Florida would be an adventure. Something completely outside my comfort zone—and I wouldn’t even have to get naked for it.

  “Smoke is going to come out of her ears pretty soon,” Jason drawls, winking at me.

  It’s the wink, followed by the burn that climbs my inner thighs, that reminds me why I can’t say yes. I need time away from the gravity of this man. To regain my objectivity and common sense, so I can attempt to keep the limits on our relationship. I definitely won’t reclaim those limits watching ocean water roll down his big hairy chest.

  “I’m so sorry, I would have loved to come diving,” I say in my most cheerful Miss Manners voice. “But I stopped by early for a reason. I’m heading to Daytona Beach for an…art festival this afternoon. Art.” Wincing on the inside over my awkwardness, I stand, using my hip to nudge in the chair. “Birdie, we’ll meet Monday night after school, as usual. In the meantime, I’ll order the dress.”

  “Yes, coach.”

  “Well, now. Have a great time,” I say, sailing toward the back door. “Bye!”

  A scrape of the chair says Jason is following me out of the house and I walk faster, hopping off the porch instead of taking the stairs.

  “Naomi.”

  I pretend not to hear the warning in his voice, turning with a neutral expression. “Yes?”

  “You driving alone?”

  “Yes. And before you warn me of the dangers of a woman driving alone, please remember that’s how I arrived here.”

  “Noted.” A muscle pops in his jaw. “Where are you staying?”

  “Mr. Bristow.”

  “Oh, no. You’re not going back to that shit.” He saunters closer and I catch a waft of no-nonsense body wash and the faint hint of cigar. “Say Jason and we’ll continue.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to remember which one of us is the coach.”

  He waits.

  I grind the back of my teeth. “It was a slip-up.”

  He crosses his arms.

  “Oh, fine. Jason.”

  One corner of his mouth goes up. “With your accent, it sounds like Jyson.”

  His comment, delivered in a low, satisfied pitch, throws me. “That’s how it sounds in my head.”

  “You say my name a lot in your head, baby?”

  If the insides of my thighs heat up any more, they’re going to catch on fire. “This conversation is getting away from me.” I back up and immediately feel the bite of cool morning air, such a contrast to his body heat. “I’ll text Birdie the name of the hotel in case of an emergency.”

  The farther I get from him, the more his amusement fades into something that looks more like panic. “I know it’s not…normal to be so worried.” He rubs the back of his neck. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

  Sympathy rocks me. My instinct is to cancel, but I can’t do that. I wouldn’t be doing Jason a favor by giving in to fear on his behalf. And I would be doing myself a disservice by setting aside what I want for someone else. I came to Florida to do the exact opposite. “Everything is going to be fine,” I say. “I’ll check in later, okay?”

  His anxious expression stays with me on the whole drive to Daytona Beach.

  *

  Jason

  Something is on my sister’s mind.

  A more pressing something than usual.

  We’re driving to the marina and she’s chewing on her lip, fidgeting in the passenger seat. Granted, we haven’t really hung out like this since I came home, a fact that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But she shouldn’t be nervous about going somewhere with me, right?

  “What’s up?” I nod at her bouncing knee. “You’re going to wear a hole in the foot well.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She tucks her hair behind an ear. “I’ve just never been scuba diving before.”

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry about that. All my dives have been business related lately, but that’s no excuse. I should have taken you out.”

  “It’s no big deal.” After a moment of silence, she turns to me with a half-smile. “Natalie would have nagged the shit out of you. Given you the silent treatment until you took us. Then she would have sent Google calendar alerts to everyone’s phones and had T-shirts made. Bristow Diving Day 2018.”

  My mouth turns down at the corners, even though I’m trying to smile. “She did tend to make an event out of everything. From what I remember.”

  Birdie nods. “What do you remember about her?”

  This is the second time today Birdie has brought up Natalie, and I think she needs to talk about our sister. That’s what she’s trying to tell me, in her own way. “I remember she hated getting her hair cut. She would scream bloody murder if they brought the scissors anywhere near her. Was it long…at the end?”

  “Yeah. She was watching these braiding tutorials on YouTube obsessively. A new type of braid every day. There would be ribbons threaded through and…” She trails off. “She made us all watch them and I complained, but I kind of liked it. The way we’d all smoosh together on the couch and zone out, listening to her chatter and critique everything.”

  We’ve reached the marina now and I pull into my usual space, leaving the engine running so the air conditioner stays on. “She used to make color-coded lists on Christmas morning,” I say, pulling memories out of the basket like strings of yarn. “Columns and all. Just to keep track of which presents came from who.”

  Birdie’s smile spreads and ebbs. “How can someone like that just…not wake up one day? How is that possible?”

  I swallow hard and stare out at the water, remembering how confused I was to get the news. And how that confusion gave way to frustration over how a healthy, seventeen-year-old girl can go to bed feeling fine, then experience cardiac failure overnight. No pain, no warning signs. An irregular electrical impulse upset the rhythm of her heart. Her heart stopped. Sudden Death Syndrome. I didn’t even know it was a thing. So easy, yet impossible to come to terms with. “There’s no good answer for why it happened, kid. I just know it isn’t fair.” I’m not sure where it comes from, but suddenly there’s this expansion inside of me. It’s like a bubble with tough outer skin, pushing at the inner corners of my chest and venturing toward my throat. My mouth is the only release valve for the pressure and it escapes in the form of a hoarse gasp. My little sister is gone. “I’d have taken her place. In a heartbeat.”

  “I know.” Birdie rubs at her knees. “I know, Jason.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  I hear the click of Birdie’s seatbelt and then she’s scooting across the seat, laying her head on my shoulder. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell me it’s okay or try to make me feel better. And I’m glad. I’m being hit hard for the first time since I got the phone call that Natalie was gone. I’m finally processing the reality of never seeing her again and acknowledging the gap she left in the atmosphere. The lack of her has been obvious every waking hour of the day, but I’ve kept my head down and plowed through. She deserves better than that, though.

  In the front seat of my truck, with the air conditioning rumbling and Birdie’s shoulder, I close my eyes and give Natalie what I’ve been resisting. I grieve.

  I’m not sure how much time passes while we sit there, but I open my eyes to find Birdie’s feet crossed on the dashboard, her expression thoughtful. “Let’s save the dive for another day.”

  “Yeah,” I say, my voice rusty. “You pick the date and we’ll get it scheduled.”

  “I should probably practice my walk, anyway. I’m finally beginning to loo
k less like a T-Rex in heels and more like one of those green, blow-up car dealership guys.”

  Chuckling silently, I put the truck into reverse and pull out of the parking spot. “I’m sure you look like neither of those things.”

  She snorts her disagreement. “Also, I have some online dress shopping to do.” Just like on the drive to the marina, she’s back to chewing her lip. “Already had a little peek at the tabs Naomi left open on her laptop, matter of fact.”

  Hearing the name of my tormentor makes my hands flex on the steering wheel. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Definitely a good idea to move diving to another day, because I’ve been meaning to tell you…” That knee starts bouncing. “Some of those tabs Naomi left open are…curious. Yeah. Curious is the right word.”

  “Out with it, kid.”

  “I think Naomi might be at a nude body art parade.”

  I slam on the brakes and the truck skids to a rough stop, a roar climbing my throat. “What?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ConspiracyCrowd.org

  Username: UrdadsMyFave69

  I volunteer to search the nation’s nudist colonies for Runaway Girl.

  I promise to leave no stones unturned.

  Naomi

  I opt to leave my underwear on. That decision is validated in spades when I see how up close and personal the artist gets to my lady region. He’s on his knees now with an airbrush, spraying a swarm of butterflies onto my skin, starting at my ankles and ending at my neck. From my vantage point, it looks like splatters of color, but the man assures me it will all come together in the end. Not for the first time, I glance surreptitiously at the clock. When is the end? I’m a brutal shade of pink, and if it weren’t for the two college girls getting the same treatment across the room, I would be hiding under the covers in my hotel bed.

  Oh Lord. He’s moving around to the back side now. I chose a very brief pair of briefs, trying to be considerate in giving the artist more canvas. I must have been in denial of the fact that more canvas meant more butt cheek. Now he’s right on level with them. I don’t think anyone has ever been this close to my bottom before, save my pageant coach with her measuring tape.