by Lila Felix
I felt like a thousand pound anvil had been hefted off of my chest. I was myself again. Confessing everything to him was right. I’d never need convincing again.
“And number two,” he continued, his forehead against mine. “Never in my life could I ever hate you.”
Chapter 20
Mad
I love sand. I didn’t even know my adoration for sand until I got to California. It was warm and grainy. People complained about getting sand everywhere? Didn’t sound like a bad idea to me.
Why was this happening to me? On the beach in front of me was quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. And what had I done? Yeah, I’d wrestled that moron, Neanderthal style, into apologizing to her. Don’t get me wrong, she deserved the apology but I may have chosen to handle it better if I had gotten a good look at her beforehand. Now I felt like an oaf in front of her. This is what Owen must feel like all the time.
She had dark brown hair that brushed her shoulders and I wondered if it was as silky as it looked. Her eyes matched her hair. She was undeniably head to toe gorgeous. And her curves? God help me, those curves were calling my name.
Nixon flicked the top of my ear and cleared his throat. Shit, she asked me something and I was too busy gawking to notice.
“Yeah,” Nixon looked at me, “Seven would be great.”
She smiled up at me, ignoring the fact that I’d just acted like a first class idiot and started gathering her things. I elbowed Nixon in the gut and he got my drift. I couldn’t help her up and at this point I didn’t have the desire. Why? Because I wanted to get to know her. Every molecule in my body sang for her and I’d only met her seconds ago. And if I touched her and got that twitchy thing, I’d hate myself for it. Nixon extended his hand but moments too late; she’d already gotten up and was giving her beach towel a good shaking. I also now wished I’d given that guy a real piece of my mind and a bigger piece of my fist. How men thought they could get away with speaking to a woman like that was beyond me.
“It’s called Sashimi, in case you get lost.” She said as she waved at us and started to walk away.
“Wait!” I shouted at her, even though she was still in normal talking range.
She shot me a look that conveyed, “Is there something else?”
“I don’t know your name.” Nixon huffed out a laugh next to me but took the cue to go back and start gathering our stuff up.
“Oh, sorry, I’m Storey.” She did this little half curtsy thing when she said it and I may have been wrong but I swore I heard a little Coonass twang to her accent. And I knew that if I brought up the word ‘Coonass’ and she knew what it meant, she was a Cajun girl for sure. How in the Hell I managed to find probably the only person from Louisiana in this place was beyond me. But who knows, maybe my sperm donor was from Louisiana too. I would have to find that out tomorrow.
“Storey?” I smiled at her involuntarily. Even her name was incredibly beautiful.
“Yes, Storey Delilah Kane, nice to meet you Maddox…” she trailed off because I hadn’t shared my other names either. Not very gentlemanly of me.
“Oh, um, sorry, Maddox Black. Nice to meet you too.”
“Ok, see y’all at seven.”
“Ok,” I answered and then realized what she’d just said but Nixon beat me to the punch.
“She said ‘y’all’. That ain’t no California girl.”
“I need a Southern girl.” I said more to myself than him.
“What?” he said as he threw towels over his shoulder.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
We left the beach with her still on my mind. Nixon and I had packed up our stuff from the last hotel and had intentions of finding a new one and pronto. We found one that was somewhere between great and nice and settled in. I threw on some jeans and a black t shirt. I had never been so anxious and afraid at the same time. Yes, she was gorgeous. But there was so much more than that and I analyzed every snippet of it as Nixon got ready, taking the bathroom after me. She picked up four empty bottles of water and stuffed them in her bag. She wiggled some book into the side pocket of the same bag but on the front wasn’t some smutty picture, it was a picture of two teenagers kissing. Her sunglasses matched her bikini. And that was an issue in itself. Her bikini covered more skin than some girls wore to the movies. But she didn’t care. She was classy. And that made her infinitely more beautiful than any other girl on that beach. And as she walked away, I spotted a pink heart patch on her rear end.
And then there was my fear. She had me hooked already. Her demeanor, the way she spoke, even those few words and I was beside myself. What if she reached over the table and touched my hand? What if we got our water glasses confused and she touched my fingers reaching for hers? If her feet brushed against mine, even in accident, under the table? I could take the other girls giving me the heeby jeeby feeling but somehow I knew it would be world smashing if she did. If I couldn’t ever touch her—it was unimaginable.
After a good deal of pacing and waiting for Nixon to get dressed, we finally headed out towards the restaurant. My hands were sweating, and I was fidgeting.
“Mad, you must chill. We’ll look for your dad tomorrow. Seriously man, calm the ‘f’ down.”
I blew a breath out and came clean. He would probably have front row seats to the ‘Mad the Idiot’ show in a few minutes anyway. I might as well tell him the synopsis.
“No, it’s not that. But this girl. Man, she’s…”
He started laughing and if we weren’t driving on this God forsaken highway where the left side of the road was outlined with a cliff and my side was three feet from the beach, I would’ve knocked him out and took my chances. I rolled my eyes and turned the radio up loud to drown out his cackling. He turned it back down after a few songs and cleared his throat.
“She’s cute. She’s short and,” I cut him a look that warned him to word himself carefully, “she’s shapelier than those twigs you usually go after.” I knew what he was saying and he was completely right. I did usually go for the runway model types. She could be a model but not the anorexic type. She had hips that curved out just enough and my hands yearned to be there.
“Shaplier, huh? Nice word.” And short—she was maybe five foot four on stilts. Again, this was something I had never sought out in a girl but now I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why. Her height alone made me want to be her personal bouncer, pummeling and clotheslining anyone who crossed her path.
We finally got to the restaurant and she sat on the bench, the epitomy of allure. My intrigue grew tenfold as I exited the truck—I needed to know her.
Chapter 21
Storey
Why is it that when you are home, doing nothing your hair cooperates and looks like you actually tried? But when you have a date or need to impress, it throws a tantrum like a three year old overdue for a nap in the middle of a candy store.
I saw them pull up in the parking lot. I knew that both of them had a hand in defending my honor against the beach creeper, but I hoped against hope that Maddox had come alone. Nixon wore a ball cap with a silly saying on it with a brown t shirt and jeans. But Maddox—I knew he looked good without most of his clothes but even in clothes he was just as tantalizing. I checked the corners of my mouth for excess drool.
They approached me and he looked anxious. I said ‘hello’ and we all exchanged niceties. We went in and sat at a table made for four. Nixon sat down next to me and wasted no time in propping his feet up in the chair in front of him. It left Maddox no choice but to sit across from me. He pulled out his chair and after settling in, took off his sunglasses. He studied his menu like his life depended on it until Nixon said something that resembled a conversation starter. Maddox lifted his eyes to acknowledge him and I inhaled, loud. He sat up straighter and slid his gaze to me. He had no idea what caused my shock.
“I’m sorry,” I sputtered out. “Your eyes. I just–sorry.”
One eye was green, the green of a
marble. And the other was an inviting velvet brown color. And the colors together—they were the human version of mint chocolate chip ice cream. It was frustrating, not knowing which one to look into while I spoke to him. He shrugged only one shoulder in response. I had to get him to talk. I needed to hear his voice again just to make sure I hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
“So, y’all have to be from the South, right?”
Their heads both popped out at the term ‘South’ and Nixon smiled.
Nixon spoke up first and I couldn’t help the disappointment that coursed through me. “Yeah, we are.” But he didn’t offer any more information than that.
When Maddox spoke next I gripped the table in front of me, hoping it would steady me as I listened to whatever he had to say.
“What about you? People in California don’t usually say ‘y’all’.” And his voice? It wasn’t my imagination after all. His voice was flowing, crisp and clean, like he’d swallowed a waterfall.
“I’m originally from Slidell, Louisiana but I haven’t lived there since I was eighteen.” He put his menu down and leaned across the table a little.
“So how old are you now? Eighteen and three months?”
They chuckled and I looked at my nonexistent watch, “Oh, seven whole minutes. That’s a record for the short jokes.”
Nixon got up mumbling something about using the restroom but I was caught up in the company across from me.
“No short jokes. But you just look young. It’s not a dig in any way. I mean, you’re really pretty. Not that I have some young girl freak fetish. Jesus, I’m a blithering idiot.”
“No you’re not.” I tried to keep the pace of the conversation so he wouldn’t have time to be embarrassed—though frazzled Maddox was kinda cute. “So how old are you? Are you a full time beach bum or what?”
He chuckled and just as he was about to answer Nixon returned to the table and simultaneously the waitress arrived to take our order. I ordered beef teriyaki and both boys ordered platters of sushi named after jungle cats and flying reptiles.
“So…beach bum?” I tried to pick up where we left off.
He laughed a little and so did Nixon but he was occupied with his phone mostly.
“No, we are on a road trip for the summer. What about you? Professional sun bather?”
I rolled my eyes and answered, “No way. I’m a model. Mostly vintage cars and retro type things. I’m saving up to pay for college.”
“That makes sense.” Nixon rejoined the conversation. “You’ve got that retro, hourglass, pin-up girl thing going.”
“Thank you.” I giggled but as I turned back to Maddox he was glaring at Nixon, far from pleased. I didn’t know what was going on.
“Are you guys best friends or did you pick this one up on the side of the road?” I nodded towards Nixon but directed my question towards Maddox.
The waitress brought our food before he could answer but I wanted to know how these two met. I needed something almost concrete to know about him, to keep for my own.
They had platters placed before them of their raw, icky, slimy sushi. And then the waitress placed four, yes four plates in front of me—beef, rice, soup, salad. Apparently, I’d ordered beef teriyaki for a family. Good thing I was a girl who could eat.
But I couldn’t eat yet. I was too busy watching him.
“Cousins,” he said as he lifted his chopsticks filled with something else rolled in green.
“Cousins?” I had forgotten all about my earlier question and prayed to God he wasn’t saying we were cousins. I’d get on that ancestry website from my phone and prove him wrong right here at this very table if that’s what he was getting at.
“Nixon and I,” He motioned between him and his phone obsessed friend, “we’re cousins.”
“Oh, that’s neat. I don’t have any cousins. My parents don’t have brothers or sisters. But that’s cool y’all are friends. You said road trip—so you’ll be moving on soon?”
I cannot believe you just said that Storey. Why don’t you just get on your knees right here and ask him to stay a while?
He smiled and finished chewing and as he swallowed I watched the bob of his Adam’s apple—even that little motion caused my stomach to flutter.
Mad
Chapter 22
I’ve never wanted to hold and protect someone as much as I wanted to hold and protect her.
We ping ponged questions back and forth across the table for hours. Something was going on with Nixon but I chose to ignore it in favor of her laugh and her voice. It matched her stature and beauty to a T. I was listening to a pixie talk. And the pixie was asking me how long I would be here.
“No, um, I’m looking for someone and we think he might be here. We have an address so we will see tomorrow. But even if we don’t find him, I think we’ll just stay here for the rest of the summer. I’m not really ready to go back yet.” Nixon quick-glanced at me over his texting confirming he’d heard me and approved.
She took a stab at a piece of beef and asked who we were looking for before she put it in her mouth. I nearly forgot what she said. Even the way she chewed was sexy.
“Family member,” I answered. I didn’t want to lay that dead dog at her doorstep yet. In fact, I didn’t want to talk about myself at all anymore. “What do you do when you’re not modeling?”
She smiled but this was different from the smile I’d seen on her earlier today. There was a wicked way only one corner of her mouth rose and a naughty spark glinted in her eyes.
“I skate a lot in between jobs and I am taking online classes to get a jump start on school. I used to be on a derby team but I got too busy.”
Well I’ll be a son of a bitch—not only had I managed to find a Coonass girl in Venice Beach, but she’s a Derby girl. What are the odds?
Nixon laughed around his bite of sushi and I joined with him. Her eyebrows rose and then bunched together in confusion, like she had been excluded from the joke.
“What’d I miss?” She tried to sluff it off but I could tell it irked her.
“We know some girls who play derby, that’s all.” Nixon excused himself. I watched her reaction change but only slightly.
“Both of my sister-in-laws, they play.” I thought maybe that would impress her or at least score a few points but she continued with the onslaught of inquiries.
“So how many brothers do you have?” She asked and pushed her plate away. She asked in a completely innocent manner. And I’m sure it was a perfectly acceptable question in most general conversations but it threw me. What did I say? Do I say two or none? Suddenly my appetite was lost.
“Um, I have two, Owen and Falcon.” I answered as clearly as my throat would let me.
“So you know your Derby stuff?” she asked. I saw her try to signal the waitress for the ticket on the sly but that wasn’t happening on my watch.
“Yeah, we go to every home derby match the girls have. The whole family goes. And Nixon here, well, Nellie and Reed have been training him to be a zebra.”
“Really,” she turned to face Nixon and my feet jerked under the table wanting to put an end to it—immediately. “Well, I can help you while you’re here. Are you a pretty solid skater?”
His face reddened a little and I wanted to stab him in the hand with my fork just for a distraction from my jealousy.
“No, that’s why they’re helping me. I suck. Every five seconds they yell at me ‘Relax, bend your knees’.” With his statement she began a song of laughter which sounded more like a windchime’s response to a breeze rather than a girl’s response to my cohort’s attempt at comedy. It filled my lungs with its melody and strummed my ribs one by one. And though no mirror was anywhere around me, I knew the look on my face. It was the same expression Falcon got when I made Reed laugh. And it wasn’t happy, not by a long shot.
They continued to talk about roller skates and the stigma of being a zebra while I calmed my nerves down one by one in a game much like whack a mole. I watched he
r as she talked to him. My head cocked in interest, an interest I’d never taken in anyone before. I wanted to put her in a glass case and study her until I knew her better than I knew myself. No, that doesn’t sound like a stalker at all Mad.
The waitress slid the bill next to her on the table. She was so enthralled with Nixon, she didn’t even see me slip some cash in the slot and hand it back to the waitress. Their conversation finally dwindled down and I felt cheated. It was petty. Didn’t stop me from feeling it though.
We walked together to the parking lot after she huffed and puffed with her hands propped on her hips after finding out I’d paid the ticket anyway. Nixon excused himself to answer another text message. I didn’t know if he was telling the truth or just letting me have a shot at Storey by myself. Either way, I was grateful.
She unlocked the door of her car, a little red Mazda, and then looked back at me. I took it as my cue, “Can I see you again? Maybe next time without the stooge?” She smiled.
“Well,” she started. I braced myself for the let down. “That would be nice. I didn’t get to talk to you very much at all. I was too busy running my mouth about derby. Let me give you my number.” She took out a pen and reached for my hand and I jerked it back. No, no, no, I couldn’t let her touch me. I pulled out my wallet and dug for something, anything for her to write on. It was Nellie’s bookstore’s business card—of course.