Chapter 6
CRUTCH
She’s rich.
How do I know?
You can just tell.
Her leather knee-high boots for one. The soles are flat. The girls around here wear stripper heels, even on their boots. Her leggings look like cream-colored pants and not ripped jeans. Even her hair looks expensive. Like maple syrup, golden brown mixed with shiny light colors.
She didn’t see me when she came outside. I’m sitting in the shadows of the back porch with only the light from my laptop screen shining on my face. Standing at the deck railing, she looks out at what should be a patch of trees and forest. But it’s nothing but stumps. Trash had the trees cut down a few months ago for more drug money. Apparently, his habit has now surpassed his legal—and illegal—income.
Sighing deeply, her shoulders relax, and she slumps forward. Leaning far over the railing, she pours the liquid from her beer bottle, emptying it on the ground.
And… now I know she has a great ass.
“Not a fan of beer?”
My words startle her, and she yelps, quickly spinning around. It takes her a moment to regain her composure. I’m sure it does seem odd to see someone on a computer, in the dark, outside, when a party is raging just inside the trailer doors.
And… now I know she’s fucking gorgeous.
She stiffens her spine and lifts her pouty little nose in the air. “Not a fan of lowered inhibitions.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with such good posture.
“What about you?” She dips her chin at me. “Not a fan of parties?”
I take a swig of my own beer. “Not a fan of escaping reality.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it, thinking about and accepting my answer, without prying more.
“I’ve not seen you here before.”
“That’s because I’ve not been here before.” She doesn’t elaborate.
And… now I know she’s kind of a bitch.
“Invited or crashing?”
“Trash invited me.”
Disappointment courses through my body, deflating it like a popped balloon. So, she’s one of those . Pill-popping, little rich girl, ready to piss off Daddy by banging a junkie from the wrong side of the tracks. “I see.” Turning back to my laptop screen, I do my best to ignore her.
Which is very hard to do. I mean, she’s really fucking gorgeous.
My silence aggravates her and she takes some tentative steps in my direction. “So, you come to parties here often?”
“I’m not the person to see for pills.”
She pins me with her eyes, forcing me to look away from my homework. “I’m not here for pills.”
Her hair hangs straight like a curtain, falling around her ample breasts. Not that I can see her ample breasts; her shirt doesn’t show any cleavage.
I’ve offended her. She didn’t like me insinuating that she was here to score drugs. I quickly save my document and flip the lid of my laptop closed, gently laying it on the railing beside me. “What’s your name?”
“Everyone calls me Ella.”
“Why does everyone call you that? Is that not your name?”
She breathes deeply.
It must suck, standing like a statue all the time.
“My name is Luella. But no one calls me that. It’s just Ella.”
“Luella.” I work the word over my tongue. It stirs a weird feeling in my stomach. “Alright, Lulu, it is.”
She snorts, not realizing that I will never call her Ella now.
“What about you? What’s your name?”
I smirk, taking another pull of my beer. “Everyone calls me Crutch.”
Her eyes flare, immediately ready to give me a dose of my own medicine. “Why does everyone call you that? Is that not your name?”
“My name is Ryland. But no one calls me that. It’s just Crutch.”
“Ryland.” The second she says my name, my dick jumps in my jeans, and I quickly shove my bottle down in front of my crotch. “Alright, Ry, it is.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. I twist the chair beside me in her direction. “Have a seat, Lulu, and you can tell me why you’re really here.”
She tries not to smile. Really, she does. And then, she tries to hide it behind her glossy hair. But I see it nonetheless.
She sits down in the cheap lawn chair, folding the wrist wallet against her hand and picking at the label on her empty beer bottle.
“Here,” I reach down beside me to the bottle of water I haven’t opened yet. “Seal’s not open. Want it?”
Nodding, she takes the bottle from me and her fingers brush against mine. Her touch burns my skin. She’s even more beautiful up close. If her hair is maple syrup, then her eyes are honey. Light brown, circled with a dark brown, almost black color. Her skin is olive toned and she has a small freckle above the right side of her upper lip.
A lip that would look great around my—
“So, do you know a lot of people here?”
“I do. Unfortunately. Why are you here? You’re definitely not the normal kind of girl who comes to these parties.”
She twists open the lid, making sure the cap breaks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She takes a long drink, watching me though squinted eyes.
“You’re not gonna make me say it, are you, Lulu? I think you’re too smart to pretend you don’t see the differences between you and the other girls you met inside.”
I’m rewarded with that pointy little nose lifting back up in the air. “I’m looking for my sister.”
“Who’s your sister?”
“Caroline Hill. Carrie Hill.”
The breath rushes from my lungs. “No shit? You’re Carrie’s sister?”
She eagerly pushes her body forward. Her eyelids sparkle with color. She probably spends more money each month on makeup than I spend on food and gas.
“You know her? You’ve met my sister?”
I nod. “I only met her once at a party here. I don’t come all the time, though, like some people. Most of the time I saw her going into the gas station. I work at the body shop across the parking lot.”
She collapses back against the chair, trying to hide the shock from her face. She doesn’t hide it very well, though, because she still looks like she stuck her tongue in an electric socket. Reaching up, she rubs the back of her neck. “You’re the guy from the gar—”
A shrill cry interrupts our conversation. “Crutch! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
It’s not like my brother owns a seven-bedroom mansion; this is a seven-hundred-square-foot mobile home. How hard did she really have to search?
“Hi, Amber.” I look past Amber, her jet-black hair, and visible red lace bra and nod to the friend trailing behind her, stumbling in high bliss. “Mandy.”
Lulu immediately hides the emotion on her face, squaring her shoulders.
Amber leans against the deck railing, jutting her leg out in front of her like a model posing for a photo shoot. Well, attempting to pose like a model for a photo shoot. It’s hard to do when you’re three sheets to the wind. She raises her cigarette to her lip right as a small gust of wind blows ash on her chest. Flicking it away, she stomps on it, kicking it across the wooden porch.
“What have you been up to? We missed you last weekend.” Her purr sounds more like a growl.
Mandy nods, enjoying the feel of the movement against her drugged-out brain.
I take a pull of my beer. “I’m sure you did.” I make it a point to never sleep with anyone from my side of town. I never have sex with someone who knows me, my family, or where I come from. So, she may have missed me. But she didn’t miss me.
She fake pouts. “Of course, I did. It’s not a party unless you’re here. Don’t you know you make everything better,” she says, lowering her voice a decibel.
Lulu rolls her eyes.
She may try to hide her smile, but she makes no attempt to hide this. It’s a blatant, over-exaggerated movement, complete with a head roll.
I can’t help it. For the second time, Lulu has me laughing out loud.
Her eyes flicker to me and she purses her lips in a straight line.
Finally, Amber pays attention to the girl sitting beside me. She snorts, “Who are you?”
“I’m Ella.”
Amber quickly dismisses her, sizing her up as no competition.
She’s wrong. Lulu should be the competition for every girl.
“Put away your homework, Crutch, and come inside. We can grab a drink and talk.”
“I have a few things to finish up. I’ll be in soon.”
Amber rubs her thumb over her lip. “Promise?”
I just shrug.
Accepting that as an affirmative answer, Amber and Mandy snake past us into the trailer.
I don’t say anything, waiting on Lulu to make the first move. I have no idea how she is going to react, and I’m sitting on damn pins and needles, eager to see.
“Well, your friends seem… eager to please.”
I chuckle. “I guess so.” I finish the last of my beer. “And I never said they were my friends.”
Her eyes flicker over to my closed laptop. “Homework?” she questions, picking up on Amber’s comment.
I just shrug again. “It’s nothing.”
Staring at me, Lulu narrows her eyes, considering my words. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips before she switches topics. “So, you know my sister?”
“Not well. Like I said, I only met her once at a party here. I’m sorry she’s missing. I actually joined some of the search parties when they were looking for her in the woods by the restaurant where her car was found. We didn’t find anything.”
She slowly nods. “Thank you for your help.” She takes another small sip of her water. “So, you saw her at the gas station? Did she go there a lot?”
“More than a girl like her should’ve.” If I stare hard enough, I’m sure I can see the wheels of Lulu’s brain turning, twisting, spitting out ideas. “What do you know about the gas station?”
She takes a deep breath. “I know it’s where people go to buy drugs. I know that my sister went there to buy drugs.” She clears her throat. “And she apparently sold drugs too.”
“Holy shit.” I lift the ballcap from my head and drag my fingers through my hair. “Carrie started pushing?”
“Huh?”
“Pushing drugs for the dealer.”
“Oh. I guess. Who’s the dealer? Trash? He was selling drugs at the gas station yesterday and today.”
I narrow my eyes. “You were at the gas station yesterday and today?” I sigh, dawning with realization. “The Infiniti SUV. That was you?”
She nods.
I glanced up from my work when the expensive SUV pulled across the street. The second I saw one long leg climb from the front seat, I went back to my work, underneath the hood of an old station wagon. As the drug business grew, more and more clientele came searching for their next high. Clientele with a lot of money to spend.
“So, you didn’t know about Carrie using or selling until now?” I ask.
“No.” Her shoulders stay square, her spine stays firmly straight, but her eyes fall to the floor. Her heart is breaking, and for some strange reason, it fucking breaks mine too.
“I’m sorry you had to find that out. Some secrets are best left buried.”
She doesn’t like that answer. “How can you say that? These drugs? This gas station? I’m sure it has something to do with why she went missing. It’s the puzzle piece we’ve all been looking for. Someone here has to know what happened to my sister.”
“Lulu, the police already came out here. Questioned Trash and the owner of the station. Something about ATM charges.”
“Yes, but that was before they knew about the drugs.”
I fling forward in my seat. Reaching across the distance between us, I squeeze her leg. Her own hand flies to her mouth, and she stares at my hand, splayed across her lower thigh, just above the knee. My mouth grows dry and my brain fogs.
I toss those feelings away like yesterday’s dirt. “What do you mean that was before they knew about the drugs. Did you tell the police that drugs are being dealt at the gas station?”
She doesn’t answer.
Begrudgingly, I remove my hand.
She lowers her fingertips from her mouth and answers. “No. Not yet.”
Finally, I can breathe again. “Good.” I sit back in my seat. “You can’t.”
“I can’t ? What do you mean, I can’t ? That’s illegal activity. You know the police kind of frown against that.”
If the situation weren’t so serious, I would find her sarcasm cute.
“What are you doing, Lulu? Playing some kind of amateur detective? This isn’t a TV show. This is dangerous shit. My brother isn’t the dealer. He’s a pusher, just like Carrie. The dealer is a bad guy. I mean, really bad. And if he’s that bad, who knows what the hell the supplier is like. You go around ratting to the police, that shit will get you into trouble. The dead kind of trouble.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Trash is your brother?”
And, there it is.
The look.
The look that always happens when someone finds out who my brother is. Who my parents are. The kind of look that says, ‘Oh, I thought you might have been different. I guess I was wrong’.
I don’t know what to say. So, I don’t say anything.
She stands from the chair. “Well, I’m sorry that your brother is involved with this, but I plan on finding my sister. And if that means telling the police about this drug business, then so be it.”
She starts walking toward the sliding glass door that leads to the raging party inside. I jump from my seat, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. I don’t mean to grab her so hard. I don’t mean to spin her around so hard. It just happens. And regardless of my intent, I get to reap the unexpected reward. Her body stumbles into mine, knocking me sideways. I wrap my hands around her waist, steadying us.
I didn’t realize she was so tall. The top of her head comes to my chin. And I’m six-foot-four.
My fingers squeeze her hips as she slowly raises her head to look into my eyes. Her breasts rub against my chest, and I pray she can’t feel the rock-hard erection that has suddenly sprung to life in my jeans.
Or maybe, I do hope she feels it.
The words get stuck. I have too much to say and not enough brain power to say it. I clear my throat. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna question your friends.”
“They’re not my friends.”
She pulls from my grasp and heads inside to join the party. “Then, it shouldn’t matter to you what happens to them.”
It doesn’t.
But for some strange reason, it matters what happens to her.