6. Riot #2
I whipped my head in her direction, and she narrowed her eyes, hesitating as if trying to figure out how to answer that.
Let the lies begin.
She opened her little pink, heart-shaped lips but snapped them shut. She looked nervous. Caught. I clucked my tongue and shook my head, surprised by my disappointment.
“Right.”I moved my focus back to the road.“Just like all the others…”I muttered.
“You don’t even know me—”
“And I don’t care to!”I interrupted whatever she was going to follow up with. The quick, wounded look on her face sent a pang of shame through my chest.
She’s a reporter, don’t get soft now .
Her expression fell to something resolute, and our eyes met, tangling for a minute like two tigers circling, each waiting for the other to attack. She nodded once and frowned, acceptingthe fact that I didn’t want to know her.
I expected her to push. To defend herself. To try to get a rise out of me so I’d say something newsworthy. That’s what all the others did when the soft approach hadn’t worked.
But not Nicolette .
She sat back in her seat and turned her whole body away from me, looking out the window, not saying a word for the rest of the ride.
Guilt snaked up my throat. I found my hand drifting halfway across the cab, eager to apologize for the shitty words my mouth had spoken.
But before I reached the warm heat of her skin, I pulled my hand back.
When I pulled into the ball field, I spotted Cherry’s bright red hair next to her Chevy Tahoe.
I hopped down from my truck, ignoring Cherry’s abhorred gaze but it was impossible to ignore her reaction. Her audible gasp wasn’t subtle. She turned away, pulling her phone out, angrily tapping the screen with those venomous fake nails.
My eyes wandered to the passenger mirror to see if Nicolette was watching Cherry’s reaction. Not only was she watching, but she had rolled the window down to better examine the exchange. My chest tightened when I met her eyes, squinted in my direction, and my face burned.
Great , the one woman in the entire town who, not only hadn’t been afraid of me but hadn’t been afraid to pissme off, would now start ostracizing me like the convict I was too.
“Why… him … here… Rodger,”I caught only a few angry words Cherry Mitchell was hissing into the phone.
“.... kids here.“I rolled my eyes. It’s not like I’d killed a child…
A shiver went down my back, remembering the look in my first cellmate’s eyes.
He had murdered a child. And there I was, sharing a room with him, no better or worse.
Equals.
Suddenly being outside in the open air made me feel incredibly vulnerable.
Cherry hung up and stalked toward me.“That’s fine, please stop. My husband is on his way,”she said, almost like a warning.“I don’t need y—”
“Oh, my God, Cherry Mitchell!”Nicolette’s voice sounded different. It was so high, almost patronizing. Leaping down from the passenger side, her long legs hit the pavement and fuck, she looked good jumping down from my truck . My dick twitched, and I cursed it under my breath.
Nicolette intercepted Cherry Mitchell’s charge toward me and gave her a big hug.
Cherry looked confused.“Nicolette Parker.”She touched a hand to her chest to remind Cherry who she was.
“I went to school with your daughter, Lanie? Wasn’t she the captain of the cheer squad?
Oh, my goodness, you look so good! Is one of these handsome boys yours? Oh, you have to show me!”
Something foreign bloomed in my chest at Nicolette’s save. I made quick work out of jumping the massive Tahoe, but I couldn’t help myself from stealing glances at Nicolette. She nodded like a looney bird and the dumb toothy smile fixed on her face was so phony I stifled a chuckle.
I coughed to signal Nicolette I was done. She wrapped her arms around Cherry. When she moved to walk away, Cherry pulled her back in, whispering in her ear while giving me a death stare, undoubtedly warning her about me. Nicolette’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes went wide.
Fuck, what did she say to her? A thin hand went to cover her mouth, her horrified eyes going wide in my direction.
I couldn’t watch this. Leaping back into my truck, I gassed up the engine.
Cherry still had Nicolette in her vice grip with a serious face.
A disparaging groan rumbled in my gut. We were back in town.
Nicolette could walk to wherever she was staying.
The image of her peeling out of the library came back to me.
Where was she staying?
Nicolette waved backward to Cherry and turned to follow me. Her phony expression dropped like a boat anchor. She stuck her tongue out like she had eaten something rotten. I suppressed a chuckle at the 180.
I watched her climbed into my truck. Because I couldn’t help myself. And why did that turn me on so much?
When I hesitated after she settled in, she looked over at me with a wry expression.
“Old friend of yours?”I asked dryly, my eyebrows tinged with mild amusement. She rolled her eyes. I put the truck in drive but hesitated another second.“Thanks,”I muttered quietly, not looking directly at her.
“Just drive,”she said, casually ignoring me.
But I didn’t fail to catch a suppressed smile on her lips as I drove us back to the garage.
As we made our way down Main Street, I spied her scrolling her phone, narrowing her eyes. Was she looking up the things Cherry told her? I could only imagine what she had said about me.
“I knew it!”she exclaimed, and my face felt colder, devoid of color.
She spun toward me and shoved her phone in my face. I winced in anticipation of my mug shot or maybe that awful picture they’d taken of me, my house burning in the background.
But I was taken aback when I realized that it was a picture of an art gallery. I squinted, unable to focus on the photo while keeping my eyes on the road. She zoomed in and shoved it closer. My heart stopped.
“You’re the goddamn mysterious Motion Mechanic. I knew I recognized those wind chimes!”
She held up a photo from an art show I had been featured at on Hanniqua Island.
Right after I’d been released, I was allowed to bring several of the whirligigs I had left from prison to sell at an art show.
My lawyer argued that I had a right to make a living, and the art show was crucial for my ability to make said living.
I hadn’t used my real name. I didn’t need people searching for my work only to find that goddamn photo of me on my knees in front of the fire, hands already above my head.
I went by The Motion Mechanic. I insisted on no photography and most of the upper crust from Hanniqua Island had thought it was some mysterious, quirky, artist thing.
But someone had caught a candid of me from the side, my chin scar laid plain for all to see.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s not me,”I tried lying. She gave me a sarcastic, knowing smile.
“I’ve seen them around town, and I saw you install one at the library this morning,”she snipped .
“Where you were sleeping in your car again?”I bit back, trying to throw her off but her smile just became more satisfied.“That was just some leftover piece the landscape company had. It’s cheap shit from China.”
“Nope. No cheap shit from China is that well-balanced.”
How did she know that’s how I tell the difference between real parts and fake“art”parts?
I gave her a discerning once over. Her satisfied expression made my stomach tighten. Not only was she brighter than I thought. But she was far more curious than I gave her credit for. I had assumed she was a washed-up influencer trying to relive her former glory days as a news anchor.
No, she thoroughly enjoyed putting these two pieces together, and, goddamn, had she done it fast. Nervous energy coursed through me.
“You can’t tell anyone,”I said.
“Oh. My. God. It is you!”Her eyes went wide, and I cursed myself again when I realized I had confirmed her suspicions.
“Why are you doing oil changes and jumping washed-up soccer moms’ overly jacked-up SUVs?
”I suppressed a chortle.“Your work is huge in the northeast. Why aren’t you selling it here? ”
I gave her a flat look.“Godot isn’t exactly the mecca for modern art appreciation.”
“So, what? You just sneak around, sticking them in random places like some dirty, artistic Santa Claus?”
The chuckle caught in my throat. When I worked for the landscaping company, we integrated them into our quotes. The library was a leftover wind spinner that had been shaped like an owl and I found it fitting.
“Seriously, why aren’t you selling this stuff?”
Heat crept up my neck. There were lots of reasons I wasn’t using it as active income, although the demand was there. After the art exhibit on Hanniqua Island, my email inbox was flooded with custom requests. I entertained the big ones but didn’t have the means and time to get back to them all.
Then there were my parole restrictions. I couldn’t leave the goddamn county without a request and signed permission slip from Jeremy Blackwell, and I didn’t very well fancy writing down“arts and crafts”as my reason for wanting to leave.
“Not really any of your business, is it?”I bit off with a knowing glare. She narrowed her eyes at me before sitting back with a harumph .
We pulled into the parking lot of the auto shop. When I killed the engine, I heard her mutter,“I saw the eagle in Jacob’s yard. It looked nice.”
Was that her attempt at complimenting me? She unbuckled her seat belt and hopped down.
“Not an eagle,”I muttered before she slammed the door.
“What?”Our eyes tangled. This time, like two tigers working together to take down prey.
“It wasn’t an eagle,” I said.She looked at me curiously. “It was a vulture.”
Inside the shop, Rodger wrote up Nicolette’s ticket as I gathered my stuff to head home.
“Do you have a card you want to put on file when we get the diagnosis?”he asked, not looking up.
I looked at her in the reflection of the window when she hesitated.
“My cards are frozen at the moment,”she said, pushing her chin in the air.
Rodger lifted his head, giving her a flat look before letting his eyes roam over her chest and hips, which turned a sour taste in my mouth.
She threw her hands up and her voice rose.“I’m sorry, but apparently not even a national bank thinks Godot, West Virginia is a real place!”she said.
Rodger leaned back, putting his palms up.“It’s alright, just asking…”Another slow gaze landed on her rib cage.“You’re staying with that uncle of yours, right, sweetheart?”
She narrowed her eyes.“How did you know that?”
“Aw, come on, you’re all Jake’s been talking about since he knew you were coming back. ”
Nicolette shuddered.
What was that about ?
“Alright...”Rodger stood up.“Well, sweetheart, it looks like you’re going to need a ride home then.”
“I’ll take her,”I said, immediate regret slapping me in the face.
Fuck, why had I offered that? I needed to limit my time with her. Rodger looked at me like I had taken the last slice of cake.
That’s why I offered that. Sit down, old man, something carnal in me growled .
“Jake’s place is on my way,”I shrugged, trying to make it seem like that’s all it was. She did me a favor by distracting Cherry Mitchell. Offering her a ride home was simply returning the favor. That was all.
“It’s fine,”Nicolette cut the tension that thickened between me and Rodger.“I have a few places to stop. I can walk. Thank you, gentlemen. Call me when the car is ready!”She flew out the door before either of us could protest, which I found bizarre.
If she was trying to get some kind of quote from me or dig around my past at all, she would’ve jumped at the chance to accept my ride.
But there she went, running out of the garage like she couldn’t get away fast enough.
Maybe I’d misunderstood her. The knot in my stomach loosened, and I started to feel guilty for the way I’d spoken to her.
The image of that quick flash of hurt that had crossed her face ate at me.
As I left the town center, I took the road that would lead me home.
Lost in thought, I almost missed the small blonde head bobbing down one of the side roads that led toward the valley.
She hitched her backpack up and cracked her neck.
One of her long, slender arms swiped across her forehead.
Something squeezed my heart, watching Nicolette walk alone down the valley road. I warned myself that this could all be a ploy to earn my trust. But as I tried to convince myself that she and her kind were still the devil, I had to resist every urge in my body that called me to go pick her up.
She waltzed into your place of work yesterday specifically asking for you, I reminded myself .
Raking a hand over my face, I kept driving straight.
Despite my best efforts, later that night, Nicolette plagued my thoughts and dreams like a melodic jingle that got stuck in my head.
I replayed each of our interactions, trying to piece together why she was back.
Why she seemed to cross my path so often.
I tried convincing myself she was a threat but the memory of faint lilacs wafting off her skin and hair pushed my thoughts into a very different direction.