by R. R. Banks
“Oh.” She seems disappointed in the lack of juicy details, and then she flushes. “You won’t tell him I said he was a hot, sexy Hagrid, right?”
“I won’t. I promise.” I laugh. I bet he’d find it a little amusing, though.
“Especially the hot and sexy part?” Her face is bright pink. “I feel so stupid. I get crushes on guys I see like, once. Not that I have a crush on him. But I can’t not notice him.”
“Don’t feel stupid,” I say, standing up and brushing the hay off of my pants. I can’t tell her that I also agree on his hotness. There are some things she doesn’t need to know.
“I should feel stupid.” She leans against the fence and stares off into the distance. “This is super embarrassing, but I’ve never even kissed a guy. And the guy I kind of have a crush on never pays attention to me.”
“Maya, that’s not embarrassing. You’re eighteen. There’s no rush.” I let another alpaca, Joey, sniff around my pockets. I had some baby carrots in there earlier, but he’s too late. “Can I give you some advice I wish I’d had when I was your age?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t date anyone just because they look good on paper,” I explain, feeling super old and jaded. “Like if they’re a big-name designer or have a cool job, that doesn’t mean you should stay with them if they suck.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. I mean, I have to get to the guys noticing me part first, but I’ll try to remember that.”
“They’ll notice you, Maya. Just give it time.” I feel a deep tug of sadness in my gut, both for her and my past self. Maybe someone did give me this advice and I just ignored it. I hope she takes it to heart.
“C’mon, let’s go into town and get some ice cream or something. There are only so many alpacas I can pet,” she grins.
“That sounds good.” The sugar sounds perfect for my low mood. I can’t keep going back to my little house by myself. Maya’s a lot younger than me, but it’s nice to have someone to hang out with.
I drive us into town to the diner, which is the only place to get ice cream. Well, diner’s not the right term. It looks like the owners couldn’t decide between a fifties diner, a regular restaurant, and a bar. There’s a patio out front, so we sit there since the weather’s nice. She orders a sundae and I order a milkshake. We sit in comfortable silence for a bit, soaking up the sun.
“Do you think I could make it in the city? Like if I decide to go to fashion school?” Maya asks. Her pale cheeks go a little pink. “Assuming I get in. And if I get better at the actual designing part.”
“I think your sewing skills are really getting there. And I’m sure you could make it. It’s not as scary as people make it out to be for the most part.” I shrug and stretch my legs out.
“But what if I suck at it?” She plays with the end of her braid.
“You can’t think like that.” The sadness of her tone makes some big sister vibe inside of me suddenly appear. “Everyone, even the best designers, have had sucky designs.”
“Yeah. I guess.” She looks up when the waiter brings our desserts. “Ooh, extra cherry. You want it?”
“Nah, I’m good.” I poke my straw into my shake and start drinking. Damn, that’s delicious. That’s another thing about being up here — I feel less pressure to look a certain way. I can slam a milkshake if I want to without anyone commenting on it.
Maya digs into her sundae, hardly coming up for air, while I people watch. There are quite a few tourists, or at least they look like tourists. They’re outdoorsy types, but I see a hint of city folk in them from the newness of their gear and the sophistication of their haircuts. I grab snippets of their conversations as they walk past. Nothing’s particularly interesting — they’re all hikers or locals, just catching up with each other for the most part.
But then I hear something that piques my interest in a bad way.
“He’s going to have to pay,” a man says as he walks by slowly. “We can’t let him build this shitty resort, okay?”
He’s out of earshot before I can hear the rest, but the tone sticks with me. I watch his back get smaller and smaller as he walks away.
“Hey, do you know who that guy might have been?” I point toward the man. He looks local, based on his clothes. Nothing fancy — it’s all just functional.
“Hm? Yeah, I think his name is Harrison. He’s always around town. He’s a day worker on some of the farms but he sometimes picks up shifts at the hardware store, I think. The benefits of working around here all the time.” She raises her eyebrows, then rolls her eyes.
“Yeah…” I keep watching him, even as he disappears. The resort seems to be on everyone’s minds, but Harrison sticks out. I wonder if I should tell Jay or if I’m just being paranoid.
A couple walks past, arguing about something so intensely that I nearly forget about Harrison immediately. I guess I’m just worrying for no reason. I try to tuck the memory of Harrison’s harsh words in the back of my mind and focus on my milkshake again. Maya starts talking about boys again, and I nod along where appropriate. I can’t just shake her and tell her that she’s adorable and she’s going to meet a guy eventually — she has to figure all of that stuff out for herself. But Harrison’s sticking with me.
I think back to the fires, and to a news report I saw about some assaults in the area. They described the man as a guy with an average build and brown hair, which he has. It seems like an angry dude who isn’t hiding his anger would be behind that kind of crime.
I’m just being paranoid. Maybe he’s just fired up.
Maya and I finish up our ice cream and part ways — she has a shift at the store, and Jay promised to help me make some oversized hooks for something I’ve been playing around with. I head home, still feeling a little unsettled, but feel better the moment I see Jay in his workshop.
I love watching him work. His masculine brow furrowed in concentration, his hands nimbly working on whatever he had in front of him. I always remembered how he looked when he decorated covers of all the CDs he made for me, hunched over our corner table in the lunch room with his headphones on. He’d look up at me and smile…
…Just like he did now. He puts down what he’s working on and gives me a smile that makes me warm inside. The little TV he has set up in the corner is playing the local news, but besides that, it’s serene.
“Hey. Nice day out at the farm?” he asks.
“Yep. One of the alpacas is pregnant. Had some ice cream. All in all, a very solid day so far.” I step up next to him. “What are you working on?”
“A carving.” He holds it up to me. “It’s just the initials of a client. It’s going in as a piece of his desk.”
“Wow.” I take it and look it over. It’s meticulously made. “Can you teach me how to do this?”
“Yeah, sure. He takes the carving back and brushes it off. “And congrats on the alpaca.”
“Thanks. I mean, I didn’t have any hand in the situation, but I did pet her a bunch.”
“Doing the work of a hero.” He gives me a smirk that’s closer to a grin than anything else.
“Just your friendly, neighborhood Simone.” I push one of his tools back and forth, then pick it up. “Ooh, what’s this?”
“I thought you wanted to make those hooks?” He takes the tool away from me. “You’re like a little squirrel, jumping from thing to thing.”
“Hey, excuse me for being curious.” I drum my fingers on the table. “Carving, then hooks. Carving sounds more fun.”
“All of it is fun.” He shrugs his massive shoulders. “But whatever floats your boat. Hand me that piece of wood over there.”
I turn around and look for a chunk of wood. I find two good sized ones, one for me and one for him.
“Okay, wood.” I put the wood down.
“Great.” He picks up one chunk and his tool. “Here, let’s start with this.”
He shows me how to make indentations without stabbing myself, and I start stripping away little pieces of wood. Once I
get the hang of it, I make a circle, then a heart. They look childish and silly compared to his.
“Nice job.” He sounds genuine.
“Thanks. It’s not nearly as good as yours.” I hold up the hunk of wood in the light.
“Well, you literally just started doing this a half hour ago. Don’t beat yourself up for not being perfect.” The TV catches his eye over my shoulder. “Oh wow, look.”
He reaches around me, brushing my butt, and grabs the remote. He doesn’t seem to notice that he did. He turns up the TV so I can hear it.
“Breaking news — a man has been arrested in connection with the recent rash of muggings in Gray’s Point,” the news anchor says.
“That’s great.” Jay shakes his head and turns down the TV again now that we have the meat of the story. “I swear, this town didn’t used to be like this. Not that one guy mugging people is anything in comparison to what goes on in the city, but still.”
A picture of the man goes up on the screen. It’s not Harrison, though they do look pretty similar. He’s got the same brown hair and brown eyes and wears the same flannel and work pants that Harrison was wearing. But at least it’s not him.
I’m not sure why that’s a relief, but it is. It’s nice to know when I’m wrong about someone, or when I’m just being paranoid. I can cross him off my list of people to worry about.
Chapter Twelve
Jay
When I was in prison, there was this one small and scrawny guy who everyone was terrified of, including me. He just had an aura of chaos about him, and he was always scribbling in a notebook. Harrison’s hunched form over a notebook sitting in the window seat brings me right back there. It makes me uneasy, even from where I’m standing outside of the coffee shop. What’s his problem? Maybe he’s just like this all the time, regardless of whether he’s dealing with the resort issue or not. But that energy isn’t just a day to day thing.
Not much has changed on the resort front. Edgar hasn’t held any more meetings, and from what I know, no one else has sold their land. Maybe he’s laying low on purpose.
Harrison looks slightly better than the last time I saw him, at least on the outside. He’s grown a beard, which looks well-groomed, and he’s gotten a haircut. His shirt looks new, also. He notices me almost right away and closes his notebook, like I’m a teacher and I’ve just caught him writing notes.
“Hey, what’s up?” Harrison asks. He looks healthier, too.
“Not much. Just grabbing some coffee and some beans.” I gesture toward the bags of grounds and beans set up on the counter. They’re nothing fancy, but I can make a good cup from it. “What’s up with you?”
He shrugs, looking shifty-eyed again. “Just gettin’ some caffeine.”
“And writing?” I nod toward his notebook, my curiosity taking over.
“Not really.”
I narrow my eyes a little bit. He sucks at lying. “Not from what I saw outside.”
“I’m just making some notes.” His annoyance is clear, but I don’t give a shit. “What do you want?”
“I’ve just been curious about you. It’s been a while since we’ve heard from Edgar, so I was wondering how you’re holding up.” I lean against the window table an inch or two into his personal bubble. It’s an intimidation tactic, sure, but his edginess has bugged me for a while.
“What do you mean?” He looks up at me.
“I get why you’re not down to sell your land, but it seems like you really hate Edgar,” I explain, trying to sound light.
“Why wouldn’t I? He’s an asshole.” Harrison doesn’t meet my eye.
I nod and stay silent on purpose. I’ve found it works when I want someone to give me information. Whether they realize it or not, I make a lot of people nervous just because of how I look and my size. Nervous people can’t handle silences.
“He’s just…” Harrison runs his hands through his hair, thankfully taking the bait. “He fucked over my cousin, who lives a couple counties over. He put one of those shitty hotels up, then hired a bunch of folks to finish up some construction. He did some legal bullshit, so he ended up not paying him and a bunch of other guys. On top of that, my cousin ended up getting hurt and didn’t have the money to get treatment. He lost his house and everything.”
“Shit.” I blink, truly surprised. I didn’t know Edgar had fucked over people so close by. “That’s awful.”
“I know.” He takes a long drink of his coffee. “I can’t let that happen to me. There are so few jobs for farm hands and other physical jobs, even for people like me with some experience. If he builds that bullshit, I’m probably going to have to take a job there whether I want to or not. I need the money, but I can’t give up my land to a guy like that. It’s been in my family since the late 1800s.”
He looks away from me again, out the window. Something else seems to be on his mind for a moment, like he’s seeing something or someone in the distance, but brings his attention back to me.
“So the only thing I can do is fight it. I’m trying to go back to school and shit, even though I hate it and I suck at it,” he continues, looking a little embarrassed. “My girl suggested it, since she wants to get married and wants me to make more money for both of us. She does hair, but it doesn’t pay a lot. Maybe we can hold him off until I can pull my shit together. If I get a job that pays decently on a consistent basis, then that pressure’ll be off of us.”
I nod again, but this time it’s because I don’t know what to say. I feel like an asshole for trying to drill him. He’s not crazy — he’s just desperate. Even though I live pretty modestly considering my fortune, I forget about how touch and go finances can be for everyone else. I need to relate to people more, for fuck’s sake. I nearly jumped down this dude’s throat over something reasonable. Of course he’d hate a guy who ruined a family member’s life and might ruin his own. I’d do the same.
“Ah, is the notebook a school thing, then?” I ask, the pieces falling together.
“Yep.” He nods, still looking sheepish.
“Well, we’ll stop him. He can’t build all of what he wants to build with just a couple plots of land.” I step back a little and clap him on the shoulder, trying to make things friendly again.
“Yeah. We will.” He finally looks a tiny bit hopeful.
“It was nice running into you,” I say, heading toward the counter. “I’ll see you around.”
He nods, looking serious again. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”
I buy a bag of beans and get the free cup of coffee that comes with the purchase, then head to the grocery store. I pick up some food for dinner, since Simone and I have gotten into the habit of cooking dinner for each other. I cook one day, then she cooks the next, and so on. She’s taught me a few recipes and how to not poison myself when I cook meat from the grocery store. It’s pretty fun, surprisingly. We’ve finally managed to hang out as friends, like she wanted. I’ve finally managed to tuck her into my mental friend zone, at least most of the time. It helps that she’s been wearing baggy clothes around me.
I’m in the produce section picking up some apples when my phone rings. It’s Simone.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say, confused. Simone usually texts me if she needs something, like groceries or coffee. Maybe it’s a butt dial, or maybe she’s decided to come into town for a bite to eat. She’s been a little shut in recently. I have to prod her to take a break or she’d work all night and day.
“Can you come home?” Simone whispers after a few moments, her voice wobbling. She’s clearly crying and has been for a while based on the hoarseness of her voice.
“What happened?” I go through my pockets, trying to find my car keys. My heart is already racing a thousand miles an hour. “I’m coming. Are you in immediate danger right now?”
“I’m not sure.” She sniffs, and I hear shuffling on her side of the line.
“Stay on the line with me.” I yank my truck’s door open and hop in, putting my phone on speaker. I peel out of the
parking lot. “What happened?”
“All my shit is… It’s like someone just came in and flipped over all my stuff and…” She takes a heavy breath. “I don’t know.”
I frown. I’ve never had a break-in on my property, ever, unless you count deer or lost animals. The house has a security system just in case, but I didn’t think to put one in the guest house. Goddamn it.
“You still there?” I ask, coming to a rolling stop at a sign and zooming through when it’s clear.
“Uh-huh.” I hear her close a drawer. “God, all of my good pens are gone. The asshole.”
“So they stole — they didn’t just rummage around?” Once I’m out of town, I slam the accelerator.
“No, he — they — stole some of my other stuff, too.” She sounds like she’s on the verge of a panic attack.
“I’ll be right there. I’m driving over now.” I hope I sound reassuring, instead of worried as fuck. “What kinds of things are gone? Besides the pens.”
Instead of answering, she just starts crying again. The roads are winding. I can’t go any faster without sending the car careening off the side of a mountain.
“I’m still here, Simone. I’m going to turn on some music, so you know I’m here. Keep talking to me. I’ll be there in five.” I turn up my radio, some generic rock.
She starts babbling about her day so far — she went out to Maya’s family’s alpaca farm and hand dyed some yarn, then came back and found her cabin ransacked. By the time I pull up to the house, she’s pacing out in front in a loose dress, looking almost green with anxiety. I’m not sure who goes for the hug first — her or me — but we wrap our arms around each other and squeeze. She’s trembling all over.
“Come on — let’s look inside and see if we can figure anything out.” I let her go, but she grabs my T-shirt. I take her hand instead and lead her in. “Did you call the police?”
She shakes her head. “I figured you’d come faster.”
I let out a slow breath. She’s not wrong, which is the messed-up thing. Since we don’t even have a proper force out here, they’d have to drive from the next town over. They’re trying their best, but they’re overextended.