“Oh man.”
“See?” Mark said. The sheer amount of food he could eat in one bite was astounding.
“These are amazing. But I think, uh, further data is needed.” She stuffed another one in her mouth, trying to place the cool kick they had. “What is that flavor?”
“Secret recipe.” He swallowed a mouthful. How something could carry that much hot, greasy cheese and still stay crispy underneath probably invoked some form of sorcery. She didn’t care. She devoured another. Her mouth anxiously watered and even her stomach made a noise of enthusiasm.
“No, you’re right. These are definitely the best nachos I’ve ever had, anywhere.”
He pounded the table with his fist. “I knew it!”
She drank desperately from her straw for a few seconds. He watched. “But I recognize the trick.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. Definitely magical.”
“Oh?”
“Dark magic,” she added in a faux-mysterious tone, licking the queso running down her finger.
He leaned forward. “Very dark magic,” he said deeply.
Oops. Had she flirted? Honestly, she was just trying to keep cheese out of her hair and slow down eating.
She gave a half-hearted smile, deciding she was done unless she wanted to vomit on the first date. She cast a glance around while he dug in, noticing something else in the corner near the foosball table.
“No way! Old pinball!” She took another drink, then hopped out of her chair and went over to it.
“Yeah, I used to play it non-stop when I was a kid,” Mark said, suddenly behind her. “Here.” He slid in a quarter before she could protest.
“Oh yeah.” A thrill of nervousness as the game began, lighting up and dinging. She pulled the handle back and let go. A few furious seconds later, with Mark coaching, her ball slipped behind and fell.
“Let me help,” Mark jumped in, putting his hand on hers as they pulled back the knob again, another ball released. He was pressed up close to her; each time they jerked their flipper to smack the ball, their bodies jolted against each other. They were actually racking up some points with teamwork, getting more excited.
“It’s coming your way! Get it!”
“I got it.”
“Aim left corner—no, straight up!”
“Oh nice, wormhole!”
“So close!”
She actually worked up a little sweat on the next round, and only when it ended did she notice their bodies were pressed tightly against each other, moving in sync. She laughed, letting go. He stepped back immediately, frustrated at losing. “Damn,” he exclaimed breathlessly.
He ran a hand across his face. She turned to face him and found herself trapped awkwardly between his huge body and the pinball machine.
“Well, this was not what I expected.”
“Ha.” He tossed his head back, hair swinging. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know, something fake, I guess. Something showy. This was just...different, I guess.”
“Different how?”
“Well, I’ve never had nachos this good, for one.”
“Uh huh.” He leaned forward, looking down at her.
“And I’ve never actually won at darts. Lucky shot.”
“I knew it.” He laughed deeply.
“And I’ve never been out with anyone who had potato arms.”
“Potato arms?” He blinked.
“Looks like there’s a potato in there. Those biceps. I kind of want to squeeze them,” she joked.
“You can squeeze them,” he offered as he placed both hands on either side of the pinball machine. He flexed.
“No, that’s okay.”
“Squeeze them.” He smiled cockily.
“No, really I was just kidding,” she insisted.
“Squeeze them,” he pretended to demand.
“No.”
“Squeeze.” He play-growled, leaning forward.
“Okay, okay.” She laughed nervously, giving one a squeeze. “There, I did it.” She hoped the lights didn’t show her blushing. The surface of that hard muscle was surprisingly soft. “And now I’ve officially made it the most awkward date ever.”
“You’re not awkward,” he corrected her. She noticed his voice was more hushed than usual; in fact, he was barely speaking. She felt his voice vibrating from his wide chest more easily than she heard it. He didn’t have to speak up. He was close. If he leaned down, he could kiss her. There would be practically no avoiding it. “We should get going,” he said instead.
So much for being pushy on a first date. Then again, it was possible Mazy had said that knowing he was just the opposite to psych Maggie out, conniving girls being what they were.
Or was this the suddenly changing Mark that Amanda had known? Was this what it was like? A friendly note, then something in him snapping. She pushed the thought out of her mind. Everything else about the date had been gloriously normal.
Mazy. It was probably Mazy’s trick. Had she done the same to her friend?
Regardless, Mark hurried them out of there. “Thanks, Uncle Jake. See you soon!”
Maggie waved and smiled.
“You like the nachos, Mags?” Jake called.
“Incredible,” Maggie shouted back as Mark pulled her out the door. She almost had to run to meet him at the car. “Well, uh, this was nice,” she said as he shut the car door. He was already starting it.
“It’s not over. We just have to make it there in time…”
“Where? In time for what?”
“You do know what a surprise is, don’t you?” he asked smartly. “Nachos aren’t the only thing I have to offer.” He seemed to be back to the usual Mark again. Maybe Maggie was just overreacting. She was a little more little jumpy and questioning than she typically was. She needed to relax, she told herself.
Maggie offered him a crooked smile, then watched the road. For the first few minutes, it was nice, a scenic drive to the edge of a neatly kept, little green town. But the lone black road wound farther and farther from town, houses spaced more sparsely. Small hills took the little sports car up and down, then curves drifted it side to side.
Mark was in a hurry, too.
At first, the pastures and rolling hills were beautiful, the ride like a mini-roller coaster. But soon, she began to feel her nachos inching their way back up.
“I don’t feel so good.” She grabbed the door handle.
“Oh crap. This is the shortcut, but I forgot it can make newbies carsick.”
“Yeah, well, you need to pull over and let this newbie out,” she snapped.
“Hang on. There’s a spot up here. Please do not puke in my car.”
The grassy spot seemed to move farther away as they slowed. She moaned. “Mags, not in the car!”
She stepped out a little wobbly, but free. As the fresh, sweet air filled her lungs and the world stopped moving and winding and just stood still and solid for a moment, she recovered. Mark got out, but kept his distance. Some people liked privacy when they puked.
Her mind flashed back to her first thought when he asked her out. Was this the prank? Was she supposed to vomit out here and be humiliated, or was she just being paranoid? Did Mark really seem nervous, or was she just blowing it?
She swallowed hard, defiantly, telling her queasiness to suck it up. Gathering her stomach’s fortitude and giving it a moment of deep breathing to settle, she leaned her forearms on a fence and watched the cows graze slowly.
“Sorry,” Mark said from beside her, squinting into the sun over the tree line as it took on that fierce glow, beginning to sink. Her eyes were shielded, as she was a good foot shorter than him.
“Sorry I’m a lousy date.” She toed the grass.
He leaned, turning to her, elbows on the fence. “You’re not. So what do you think? Want to go home or give it a try?”
She wasn’t thrilled to be heading out of town, but he was giving her a chance to back out. Surely most killers
didn’t do that. And most killings, she reminded herself, are personal. Mark would only have a reason to hurt her if he suspected that she suspected him.
“Well, why not?” she shrugged.
“Okay.” He nodded with a bright smile. They climbed back in the car and soon it began to climb. There were fewer curves, but sharper winding. She was absolutely determined not to puke, but it was getting difficult again. She closed her eyes.
That was definitely a bad idea. She tried sitting up straight and cracking the window, like her mom had shown her. A little relief. Mostly she felt trapped, like she was on a ride she couldn’t get off.
Just when she had rounded the last bend she could handle and was about to insist that she get out and walk, they climbed an even sharper incline and found themselves in an isolated parking spot. Well, it was more of a gravel-filled clearing in a wooded area. She moved around, looking uncomfortably at the hidden spot.
“What it is this, make-out point?” she asked.
“Sort of. Up for a little walk?”
Great. Further away from civilization, they trekked through a decent hiking trail. It was mostly smooth, if rather steep, with few rocks and roots. They were going up very quickly, she could tell. The soft browns and greens protected them from the blazing orange then smearing across the sky.
“So,” he said from ahead of her. “Becca tells me you just moved in over the weekend? So this is your fourth day ever in Masonville, huh?”
“Yep,” she huffed, not exactly a marathon runner. She could tell her face was getting flushed but he kept urging them onward, glancing at the sky and time, so she tried to keep up. “Well technically, it’s my fifth day. We drove up last week to secure the place.”
“Oh. How many schools is this for you?”
“Lucky 13,” she huffed.
“Really? No way. And I noticed you ride with Tommy a lot. Your car not make it up with you yet?”
“Actually,” she answered truthfully. “I don’t have a car.”
He paused, looking back at her for a moment and extending his hand to help her up a particularly steep point. He jerked her arm, her shoulder protesting his strength, until their faces were inches apart. “It sort of becomes climbing from here, but not for long.”
She nodded. He was already a yard ahead again. Luckily, they didn’t talk much more after that.
Her side was stinging painfully. Her lungs felt raw, and her face was burning by the time they reached a tiny space surrounded by tall, skinny trees. She tried not to let on, a little embarrassed. The hike might have been nice if they hadn’t been so rushed. She hadn’t noticed a single sight or smell.
Mark walked a few feet ahead to the edge. From where she stood, Maggie could see miles in either direction. Amber and autumn-colored treetops, rolling along like massive waves, were turning to shadows now that the sun had almost entirely set.
“Damn. We missed the sunset.” He looked back. “Come here. I want you to see something.” He held out his hand.
She was about to apologize for ruining the surprise when something stopped her. Mark’s eyes were different again.
As she slowly walked towards him, peeking at the shimmer she thought was water over the stone balcony, his eyes became more unnerving. They were cold. She shook it off as maybe the weather. Just then, a cold wind whipped between the trees around them, shaking her jacket like a raised flag, and whistling quietly. But as she drew closer, she could see it wasn’t just the weather.
Her mom’s words were practically screaming at her in her head at that moment. She had no idea where she was. There wasn’t anyone around; she was far from town, and she likely had no service. No one was expecting her anytime soon. This was not being safe.
And despite the waist-high wall of stone fastened at the narrow ledge, her natural instincts were screaming at her to stay away from heights. Her legs stiffened, didn’t want to move.
Mark smiled again. “Don’t look so afraid, Maggie,” he repeated. But his eyes were still cold, even up close.
In a way that might have been romantic, he wrapped a hand around her waist and swung her around him so that she was pressed against the precipice, against the stone standing between her and the massive drop.
She gasped.
“I was hoping you could see it in the fall light; it’s really beautiful.”
It might have been. It probably was. She could imagine the hundreds of shades of leaves rustling together in the expanse of trees like a moving canvas, the golden October light pouring in, reflecting off the blue-green lake below, the sky pink as the sun sank out of view.
But it wasn’t. The sky was grey, dark but not yet the elegant dark that hints at black and blue. The woods looked like a wilderness from fairytales. Everything was silent except for the wind, which moaned.
It grew colder, so that even with him pressed against her, her teeth threatened to chatter. The water below was even murkier than the sky. She stared directly down over grey, jagged rocks that lined where she would fall if she toppled over and found black water breaking at its base, rubbing a tree’s skeleton, colorless and bare itself. It could have been thrown in during the recent storm, she figured. It gave her chills.
“Kind of gloomy, isn’t it?” Mark asked.
She nodded, wanting to move away.
“You know, it’s funny; this spot sees a lot of romantic couples, proposals, first kisses, first dates.” His mouth moved closer to her ear. “I bet more than a couple Masonville citizens were conceived up here.” He laughed, his chest rumbling up against her through his coat. “But we’ve also had four suicides just in my lifetime. Funny how the same place can inspire so much life and death.”
No, she was not imagining it. Mark the golden boy just got super creepy. She opened her mouth to tell him that she didn’t think it was funny at all and she didn’t think it was romantic either for that matter, but he had her forearms in his strong hands resting on the stone edge. His thumb traced along the inside of her arm.
He went on. “People get up here for the view, and I guess everything just looks bleak, and they jump.” Who the hell takes a girl to a suicide spot on a first date? She wondered.
She tried to move then, but Mark was so big, it was like being stuck between two walls.
“Or at least, we think they jumped. I guess out here, no one would ever know. Kind of like on an old country road, you know? If no one is around to see, how can we ever really know what happened, right?”
Was he talking about killing Amanda?
Maggie tried wrenching herself away, but Mark’s grip on her forearms tightened. She made a sound of struggle as she twisted around and shoved his chest, but her strength did nothing to him. The force only pushed her backwards so that the stone hit the back of her knees. She fell on it.
Forced to look down clearly onto the dark water pushing the dead tree against the base of the solitary cliff, she was surprised she felt outrage.
She absolutely refused to die anywhere so miserable. Of all the places in the world she had seen—the extravagant architecture of opera houses where her mom worked an extortion case, the pristine untouched nature of Alaska when her mom investigated a disappearance. There were too many beautiful places so beautiful she wouldn’t mind dying in for her to die here. Masonville’s melancholy make-out point or jumping-off place or whatever.
Mark looked more surprised than she felt as he caught her around the middle again. To an outsider, it might have looked like they had been dancing, like he was dipping her.
She took the opportunity to maneuver from his grasp and away from the edge. She backed up, staring at him.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded.
Mark glared at her, but it wavered. He seemed confused. She did not know what to make of it and she was tired of trying to figure him out. Normal, simple, happy Mark seemed like a boring, judgmental date. But crazy, possibly murderous Mark was much worse.
She turned her back on him, disappearing into the trees
before he could even manage to get out a coherent word. She stumbled blindly and angrily through the woods, knowing only she should move downwards. Crashing sounds behind her indicated Mark was slowly making his way down as well.
Only when she got back down to Mark’s car did she realize that she was practically stranded without him. When he emerged, looking upset, she was leaning on the hood of his sports car, everything she had crossed.
“Maggie,” he began. “I’m...I’m sorry.”
“Save it,” she told him, then worriedly added, “I won’t say anything if you don’t.” She pushed off, rounding the car. He got her door. The car was dark and silent along the snaking route back into town, her stomach in knots going up and down, up and down with the road.
She never thought she’d feel so relieved to see the outskirts of Masonville. The moment she guessed she had service, she opened her phone to text Becca. She deleted it.
This moment called for Nice Guy. SOS. Can you pick me up?
He responded: Where? . She exhaled aloud.
“Can you drop me off at the school? My mom thinks I’m P,” she lied. This time, she didn’t even feel bad.
Mark blew out a long breath. His only response was to flick on his blinker. When they pulled in, however, Tommy’s truck was noticeably parked under an elm. Mark still said nothing. She got out, grabbed her backpack, and made a beeline for the truck. A window rolled down behind her.
“I know it sucked, making you sick and nearly tumbling off the ledge. But did I ever really have a chance, with that guy who saved you from a twister hanging around?”
Maggie didn’t turn around, just looked back and answered honestly. “No. Not really.”
The door opened ahead of her and she ran to it.
Chapter Seven
Everything Belongs to the Dead Girl
“That bad?” Tommy asked as she climbed inside the truck cab. The cab felt safe. It was warm and dry, unlike the air outside. It smelled familiar, like Tommy, like his home—somehow whiffs of home cooked meals, fresh laundry, maybe even a little dog hair swirled about the truck.
She looked into those unchanged, gorgeous eyes. She needed them for a minute. He waited politely. Each second she felt herself warming.
Keep Your Friends Close Page 8