by Gen Griffin
“Take him up on it, Trish.” Addison grabbed the four foot long alligator by its tail and began to drag it back towards the front door. “You do live in Possum Creek now. It wouldn't hurt you to learn to shoot.”
“Addy, I don't need to-.” Trish took a deep breath and then hesitated. She looked down at the gun in David's hand. The fingers of her right arm unwittingly went to the thick, raised scar that she'd gotten when Curtis had pushed her overboard. Her mind unexpectedly went to the moment when Curtis had said he was sorry right before snatching her car into a pine tree. “Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea if I learned to shoot. Seeing as I'm now living in a town where its semi-normal for loose alligators to wander through the streets of town.”
“That's my girl.” Addison grinned at her as he towed the alligator out the front door. “Now y'all come on. We've got some hunting to do.”
“You heard the man.” Trish took the gun from David. The weapon felt unnatural and heavy in her hand.
“Ladies first.” David gestured to the front door with a cocky half-bow.
“You kids behave,” Ida said with a cheery wave. “You sure you don't want a pitcher of tea to take along with you?”
“I'd rather have whiskey,” David informed her.
“Top shelf of the china cabinet. It's behind the gravy bowl.”
“Thank you.” David gave a genuine smile for the first time since Trish had met him. He popped open the glass door of the huge ornamental china cabinet, stuck his hand into its dusty contents and pulled out a mostly full fifth of whiskey. He twisted the lid off the bottle and took several healthy swallows. “You're a saint,” he told the elderly woman.
“And you're a lush,” she replied with a smirk. “Though you might want to watch how much drinking you do in public. Jerry Walker told me he's thinking about nominating you for mayor come the next election.”
David choked on the whiskey. “Dad- I mean Jerry said what?”
Ida laughed. “He said he was tired of being the mayor and didn't want to run for a fourth term. I asked him if Calvin would be taking his place. He said he didn't think Cal had the time and so he was planning on nominating you. I'm quite sure you'll win, seeing as you'll be running with the full endorsement of the Walker family behind you.”
“Oh hell no,” David said. He was noticeably paler than he had been a minute ago. “Cal is the future Mayor of Possum Creek. Not me.”
Ida winked at him. “You might want to tell Jerry that.”
“He already knows.”
“Hey David!” Addison stuck his head back in the doorway. “Get your ass out here before I get eaten alive.”
“Bye Miss Young,” David said. “And please don't vote for me for mayor.”
He turned and walked out the front door with the bottle of whiskey still in his hand. Trish hesitated for a brief second and then followed after him. She could hear Ida Young laughing as she shut the door and locked it behind them.
David walked over to Addison's truck. “I am not having a good night.”
“Didn't figure you were,” Addison replied. “But even half-drunk and crispy-friend, you're a decent shot. I'm thinking you should ride in the bed of the truck and I'll drive. I'll stop whenever I see a gator. You shoot it.”
“I've heard worse plans.” David tilted back the whiskey bottle again. This time he drank until bubbles came up through the liquid in the bottle.
Addison walked over to the driver's side of his truck and got in. “Trish, I want you to sit up front with me and help me spot the gators.”
“No, I get the girl.” David grabbed the side of the truck and vaulted into the bed. “I can't teach her to shoot if she's riding in the cab.”
Addison frowned and then shrugged. He looked over at Trish. “You cool with that?”
“I guess.” Trish was more than slightly taken aback but she had agreed to learn to shoot. Maybe she could even talk Addison into letting her borrow the gun for a while. At least until her divorce went through. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not if you want me to teach you how to shoot,” David replied.
“What if I wanted Addison to teach me?” Trish asked. “I mean, I don't even know you. How do I know you're even any good?”
David blinked at her. “You don't think I can shoot?”
“I've never even met you before tonight. I don't know what you can do.” Trish tried to hide her discomfort about being alone with a guy she barely knew.
“You want a show?” David hesitated and the shook his too-long hair back out of his eyes. He pointed to the left of where they were standing. “I'll give you a show you won't forget. See that alligator over there?”
Trish looked to where he was pointing. A large dark log-like figure was sitting in the middle of someone's nearly mowed grass. It appeared to be chomping down on the remains of a box of fried chicken that had fallen out of the trash can. “I see it,” Trish confirmed.
David slipped the rifle down off his shoulder, turned just slightly to the left and lined the shot up. He pulled the trigger and the alligator's head exploded. The body twitched three times, rolled and came to a stop next to a bird bath.
“One,” David said as he held up his finger.
“I don't-.”
“Hush.” David looked straight ahead, focusing his gaze over Trish's head and into the street. He lifted the gun and pulled the trigger a second time. The gator that had been sitting on the yellow line of the road almost 500 feet away hissed once and then died where it sat. “Two.”
Trish stared at him, unsure of what to say.
He narrowed his eyes and kept the gun pointed straight ahead. “You think that gator up there by the park bench is at a thousand yards?”
“I don't know.” Trish had to squint to see the alligator in question. She regretted not wearing her contacts.
“David, we're in the middle of town.” Addison's voice had a warning tone to it.
“She doesn't think I can shoot,” David said as he pulled the trigger.
Trish watched as the alligator sprung into the air and then died.
“Three,” David said.
“Jesus,” Addison muttered. “Trish, he's one of the best shots in town. He's got trophies. Or he had trophies, I guess. Before the house went, you know, up in flames.”
“Point proven,” Trish said. She she walked over to the tailgate of the truck. She frowned as she realized she had no where to put the gun while she climbed into the bed of the truck. David solved the problem by reaching down and grabbing her by the arms. He lifted her into the bed of the truck as if she weighed nothing. He was clearly a good bit stronger than he looked.
Trish took a step towards the toolbox of the truck and nearly fell. David caught her arm automatically. His hand was incredibly rough and incredibly warm against her bare skin. She looked down at her feet and realized that high heels were not a good choice in footwear. “Sorry. I need to take off my heels.”
“I never understand why girls insist on wearing such impractical shoes,” David grumbled.
“Girls shoes are meant to make our feet and legs look more attractive. Comfort is irrelevant. I have short, stumpy legs. I wear four inch heels to make my legs look less troll-like.” Trish frowned as she tried to figure out how she was going to undo the straps on her heels without showing him her underwear. She experimented with propping her leg on the side of the truck bed, but no sooner had she bent at the waist then she felt a brush of air on her upper thighs. The dress was sexy but it just wasn't meant for moving around in.
“You have nice legs.” David said as he knelt down in front of her and patted his thigh. “Give me your foot. I'll undo the stupid strap.”
“I...um.” Trish hesitated and then realized she didn't have a better option. She propped her right foot on his leg. He undid the strap and slipped her shoe off of her foot, setting the shoe down before gesturing for her to give him her other leg. “You've done this before,” she commented awkwardly. “Those clasps are tricky. It no
rmally takes me about 10 minutes to get them off.”
David snorted back a laugh as he removed her left shoe. “I have more practice than I like to admit. Gracie isn't capable of dressing and undressing herself.”
“Is that your girlfriend?” Trish asked.
“Gracie?” David blinked at her, clearly surprised by the question. “You haven't met Gracie?”
“I don't think so,” Trish said.
“Gracie is Addison's kid sister,” David explained.
“You have to dress Addison's kid sister?” Trish was totally confused now. “How old is she?”
“Nineteen,” David replied.
“You have to dress a 19 year old girl?” Trish knew her skepticism was showing pretty clearly now.
David started laughing as he stood back up. He set Trish's shoes inside the toolbox of Addison's truck and then waved into the cab. Trish supposed that Addison had been waiting for David's signal because the truck began moving almost the same second as she sat down on top of the diamond plate box.
“You make that sound so much more fun than it is,” David told her. “Gracie lived with me for awhile after she dropped out of college. She's the queen of shoes she can't buckle, jewelry she can't clasp and church dresses with zippers that she can't reach.”
“Oh, well, I have those problems too,” Trish admitted. “I had to get Addison's Granny Pearl to zip me into this dress before I left the house tonight. I couldn't get the zipper all the way up my back all by myself.”
“Girls wear the dumbest clothing,” David said. “And for the record, I like your legs better without the heels.”
“You’re the only one who does.” Trish stuck her legs out for examination. “Curtis insisted I learn how to walk in heels. He said my legs looked fat without them.”
“Who the fuck is Curtis?” David asked.
“My soon-to-be ex-husband,” Trish replied. She watched his face to see if he flinched or lost interest. She'd been surprised by how many guys her own age seemed to lose interest in her immediately after she told them that she'd been married before. It was almost like she was damaged goods.
“Your ex-husband didn't like your legs?” David seemed baffled but he didn't flinch. He sat down on the tool box next to her and took another swig from the whiskey bottle.
“Not really,” Trish admitted with some embarrassment. “He liked my shoes though.”
“Your shoes?”
“He has a thing for shoes.”
“What kind of a thing?” He was watching Trish with an interest that made her cheeks turn red despite the darkness of the night. There was an intensity to his dark green eyes that both unsettled her and stirred something deep and primal inside her gut. She found herself searching for a distraction. Anything to distract her from the way her heart had just plunged down into the pit of her stomach.
Her eyes settled on his tattoos. Trish had never really liked body ink and David was covered in it. The more she looked at him, the more tattoos she saw. The artwork started midway down his neck and ran underneath the neckline of his well-worn black t-shirt. It reappeared beneath his sleeves, wrapping all the way down to his strong hands in a flurry of cannons, pistols and skeleton soldiers fighting a war that had been over for more than 150 years.
“I used to call it a foot fetish, but its not really my feet he seems to like. He enjoys licking expensive designer high heels. Sucking on them. Kissing them. The shoes. Not my feet.”
“And you married this guy?” David asked with obvious disbelief.
“It’s a fetish. My mother says that sexual fetishes are a normal and healthy way of expressing unique personal sexual desires.”
“Your mother said that?” David held the bottle of whiskey out to her.
“You haven’t met my mother.” Trish took the bottle from him, closed her eyes and took a burning gulp of the amber liquid. It was all she could do to keep from coughing and choking as she forced it down her throat.
“No, but she sounds kind of interesting.”
“She’s not.” Trish scowled. “Okay, well maybe she is interesting. It’s just not a good interesting. It’s more of a science project gone wrong kind of interesting.”
“The kind of interesting that thinks it’s a good idea for your husband to make passionate love to your shoes, but not to you.”
“Precisely.” Trish was more than slightly stunned that he’d grasped the problem so quickly. “How did you figure out the second part?”
“You really want to know how I knew the sex was lame?” David asked.
“It took me a couple of years to come to that same conclusion. You got it after knowing me for less than 2 hours.” Trish sounded more bitterly than she had intended to. “I'm a little curious how you figured it out.”
David grinned at her and brushed his too long hair back out of his eyes. “Any guy who pays more attention a girl’s fucking shoes than he does to the girl obviously doesn’t know the value of good sex.”
Trish considered his statement thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s just me,” she said after a moment. “Maybe I’m just lousy in bed.”
“I very seriously doubt that.” David's eyes flashed intently as the truck passed under some street lights and came to a grinding stop in front of a storefront. Trish looked to the side to see three alligators were sitting on the sidewalk, basking in the glow of the old fashioned orange carriage light.
David stood up and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He dispatched the alligators in three shots. His shooting was fairly impressive, seeing as the second and third gators had tried to take off running in opposite directions after he'd shot the first one.
He winked at her and held up the rifle. “You get to shoot the next one.”
“Oh no.” Trish frowned at him and held up Addison's revolver. “I thought you were going to teach me how to use this one.”
“A .38 caliber revolver isn't exactly an ideal alligator hunting gun,” David replied.
“Then why did you give it to me?”
“Because I thought you needed to be carrying a weapon just in case tonight took a turn for the worst. I didn't think you'd really want to borrow Ida's candlestick.” He grinned at her.
Trish couldn't help laughing. “You're insane.”
“Maybe you need some insanity in your life,” David replied.
“I have plenty of insanity in my life,” Trish said with a small smile. She tried her best not to think about what Curtis had done to her car less than two hours ago. She was trying to ignore how good it felt just to talk freely to someone. There was something about David that made her feel comfortable with him despite only knowing him for a couple of hours. “Have you met my grandfather?”
“Does he live in Possum Creek?” David asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I'm sure I have. What's his name?”
“Grover Shallowman,” Trish said. “Most folks around here seem to refer to him as-.”
“Crazy Grover.” David filled in the blank. “I've known Crazy Grover my whole life. He and my dad used to be friends. Business associates, actually. I'm pretty sure they pulled off armed robberies together.”
“Oh sweet Jesus.” Trish put her hands over her mouth. “Don't tell me that. I've been trying really hard to pretend that he's a nice grandfather like all my friends used to have when I was growing up.”
“He's a career felon who has developed a bad habit of shooting at people who knock on his front door,” David said. “I'd heard someone in his family had been forced to move down here and take care of him because none of the local nursing homes would accept him. Tell me you aren't the one who drew that short straw?”
“Oh, I drew that straw all right. And for the record, it would have been nice if someone had warned me that the entire county knew him as 'Crazy Grover' before my mother suckered me into moving in with him.” Trish let out an irritated huff as she began mimicking her mother's syrupy sweet tone. “Possum Creek is such a sweet, quiet southern town, you'll just love
it. Your grandfather is a real character. Everyone in town knows him.”
“Because he's shot at all of us at least once.” David finished the sentence for her.
“Mom told me he collected valuable antique weapons,” Trish said. “She never mentioned that he liked to use those valuable antique weapons on the mailman.”
David burst out laughing. “I know it's not funny, but...”
“Oh, I'm sure its hilarious. Just as long as you're not the person he's shooting at or the person who has to go try to disarm him.”
“You ever need Grover disarmed, call me.” David lifted his rifle again and peered through the scope for a moment before lowering it back down. The animal that was moving in the distance appeared to be a large house cat.
“I normally call Addy,” Trish said. “Of course, I wouldn't have to keep calling Addy if we could figure out where Grover is hiding the damned guns. We keep disarming him and removing weapons from the house. He keeps bringing out new ones. He's got to have a stash of them hidden somewhere in that house but I can't find it.”
“Have you checked the crawl space under the house?” David asked.
“What?”
“Just a suggestion,” David said. They were approaching the center of town at a snail's pace and Trish could see several alligators in the road straight ahead of them.
“I'll crawl under the house in the morning,” Trish said. “I'm sure it'll be absolutely disgusting.”
“I was going to suggest you have Addison do it,” David said.
“You're not offering?”
“I don't like spiders,” David replied. “Besides, you're not sleeping with me.”
“I'm not sleeping with Addy either,” Trish pointed out.
She didn't miss the look of surprise on David's face. “You're not?”
“You couldn't pay me to sleep with Addison,” Trish said flatly. “Do you have any idea where he's been?”
“You mean do I have any idea how many different women he's been in?” David countered.
“Yes. That. Exactly.” Trish wrinkled her nose. “I've been living next door to Addison for two months. I've seen how many girls make the walk of shame out of his place as the sun is coming up. I'm pretty sure he's slept with three different girls in the last week alone.”