Chapter 5 #2
Rick shouldn’t have been surprised by Paxton’s reaction, but somehow still was. “You’re a gutter rat.”
“Get off it, Hicks. You’re not seeing the big picture here.” Paxton jogged backward so Rick wouldn’t miss the curl to his lip or the nasty gleam in his eyes. “We could do an exclusive interview and photo shoot. What do you think? If we sell them after your arrest, we’ll make bank.”
Rick gritted his teeth, trying to pick up his pace even though sweat was already dripping into his eyes.
“Come on,” Paxton wheedled. “We could even do some spicy ones. I bet we could sell those for more. Maybe even set you up with an OnlyFans. People love that shit. Do you know how many murderers get fan mail? Marriage proposals?” Paxton’s grin sharpened.
“Probably the only way you’ll land someone, Hicks.
Martina, well, she’s got more prospects. I bet if we get her tits out—”
“Shut. Up.” He clenched his fists and jogged faster, reminding himself repeatedly that Teeny didn’t want him fighting. She’d given him good reasons for not fighting. Good, sensible reasons. He just couldn’t seem to think of any of them right now.
Paxton held his hands up defensively, but his expression was smarmy as he winked. “I can’t help it if I know what the people want, and what the people want is Martina’s—”
“If you value your fucking life, Paxton, you’ll shut the hell up right now.” He swiped rain angrily away from his forehead with his arm.
“Is that a threat, Hicks?” Paxton said cheerfully. “Am I next on your little list?”
Rick glanced around, hoping someone might be nearby to step in.
The PE teacher, Ms. Elm, was pretty okay as teachers went, but she was deep in discussion with one of the girls from the volleyball team.
All of the other students were spread out along the track running or jogging at whatever speed they’d decided, except for the stretch where Rick and Paxton were. He was on his own.
He closed his eyes for a brief second, breathing in slowly, trying to get a grip.
He was playing right into Paxton’s hands.
For whatever reason, this was what the jackass wanted, and he knew the smart thing was to not give it to him.
Teeny didn’t give two shits what Paxton thought or said about her. He just needed to let it go—
“We could work out a percentage deal,” Paxton said, interrupting his thoughts. “If we sell the story, I mean. Martina’s family doesn’t need the money, but we both know you do.”
Rick picked up his speed again, basically running now, taking a little petty joy in the fact that Paxton had to turn around. He couldn’t run backward at the clip they were going at. Unfortunately, he didn’t go away, either.
Paxton dropped his voice even quieter as footsteps sounded behind them.
“You have a little sister, don’t you, Hicks?
With your dad gone and you in jail, who’s going to take care of her, huh?
Your mom?” He pursed his lips, squinting up at the sky.
“She might be hot, if you’re into that, but she couldn’t keep your dad around, so she must be—”
Anything else Paxton had to say was lost as Rick tackled him.
They hit the ground, the breath whooshing out of Paxton’s gut at the impact.
He elbowed Rick in the mouth while they rolled into the grass, but he didn’t really feel it.
He managed to knee Paxton in the rib cage.
Hands pulled them apart, and by the time Ms. Elm came over, both of them were breathing hard, but they were separated, their locked gazes not unlike two wary junkyard dogs.
“What happened?” Ms. Elm had her hands on her hips, a scowl on her face.
Paxton held his side, wheezing. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose, and his formerly immaculate joggers had a grass stain on one knee.
Martina’s warning flashed in his memory. “We tripped,” Rick said, though he didn’t quite manage to unclench his teeth.
Ms. Elm’s brows shot up. She turned to Paxton. “Is that the story we’re going with?”
“Yeah.” Paxton sneered, swiping at his nose with his wrist, smearing the blood. “Hicks tripped over those giant feet of his. Clumsy of him.”
Ms. Elm wasn’t entirely buying it, Rick could tell, but no one was offering her a report of anything else. She sighed. “I don’t want anyone else tripping in this class anytime soon, you got it?”
“Got it,” Rick said, Paxton echoing his words.
She puffed out an irritated breath. “Paxton, have Erin take you to the first aid kit to get a tampon for your nose—”
“Absolutely not,” Paxton snapped, even as he swiped at another trickle of blood.
Ms. Elm gave him a flat look. “They’re the little ones we use for the wrestling team when they get a nosebleed. Would you prefer a wad of toilet paper?”
The school used single ply so thin you could see through it. Paxton scowled. “No.”
“That’s what I thought.” She crossed her arms. “Then off you go, unless you have other injuries I’m not aware of?”
Paxton shook his head.
She shooed him off, fixing her eagle-eyed attention on Rick.
“You’re going to need an ice pack at the very least, and I’m out, so grab the hall pass and head to the office.
Maybe get a Band-Aid for that lip.” She checked her watch.
“Don’t bother coming back out to the track. Hit the showers and get dressed.”
“Thanks, Ms. Elm.”
“You’re welcome, Rick.” She turned to go but kept talking as she walked away. “And I meant it, Rick, about the tripping. I don’t want to see it.”
“Got it.” He trotted off to the office, the hem of his T-shirt pressed to his face to stop the bleeding.