75. Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Five
Kai Moreno
Kiss Me. Sniff Me. Whatever You’re Into.
Idrive with one hand on the wheel and the other drumming to the beat against my thigh.
We drop Genie off for another few days at the doggy daycare spa.
He doesn’t complain and neither does Beau’s wallet.
The afternoon light cuts across the windshield in long strips.
Dust hangs in the air inside the car, turning in slow circles every time we hit a bump.
Imani sits in the passenger seat with her knees tucked up, shoes off, toes pressing against the edge of the seat like she owns my vehicle.
Her curls are pulled high into what she calls a satin hair scrunchie, but a few dark coils have fallen to frame her face.
She’s singing along to a song I don’t know, voice soft but certain.
“Animus,” she says between lines. “The lead singer, you have to admit, he has such a range.”
“I will admit nothing until the chorus,” I say.
“Then I will consider applauding.” She rolls her eyes without looking away from the road ahead.
The corners of her mouth lift anyways. It’s funny watching her be so relaxed with me.
The time at Elowen’s with her changed the dynamic of our relationship somehow, even platonically.
The chorus hits and so does her voice with it.
The sound does something good to my ribs, like the tight places in there loosen just to listen.
Traffic thins as we leave the main strip.
Trees crowd the sides of the road, leaves whispering against one another in a lazy wind.
I glance over at her again. She isn't just singing, she’s glowing.
Talking about what she loves does that to her.
I realize I’m smiling like an idiot and force my eyes back on the road like a responsible adult. “Kiss me,” I say, looking back at her.
Imani stops singing and turns to look at me, “What’d you say?” She speaks over the loud speakers.
“Oh…nothing. I just said, "sniff these.” I gesture at the air fresheners hanging between us on the rear view mirror. She furrows her eyebrow at me and glances at the little trees, but inevitably goes back to tapping the beat against her knee.
“You can say it,” she says. “You like them! I have fantastic taste in music.”
“I will say the drummer is on point,” I answer. “And the singer does, in fact, have range.”
She gives a satisfied nod as if she has won something.
“I knew it.” We hit a patch of rain again and the car cools a few degrees.
The song then shifts to a quieter bridge and the world softens around it.
I pull over into the parking lot of the restaurant she had chosen.
The last thing I want is a burger right now, but I’ll stomach it, if that’s what she wants.
“You do have great taste in music.” I pull the gearshift into park as I press down on the brake. She giggles at my admission and bites the inside of her lip.
“I have great taste in lots of things.” Imani smirks.
“Oh yeah, what else?”
“Men, starting now, apparently.” My cheeks turn red with embarrassment.
Holy shit, it’s happening again. I take my hand and brush her loose curl behind her ear.
She leans into my hand as I graze her face.
“I think I have great taste in women. Starting now, apparently.” I shoot back at her.
Her phone buzzes on the console. She glances down, then up at me.
The screen lights her face in a pale blue wash. You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Elowen,” she says like a question. The music drops as she turns the volume down. Her fingers find the small Bluetooth earpiece in her bag and click it into place.
“Hey,” she answers, voice gentler than it had been a second before.
“What’s up?” Silence from the other end.
Her eyes narrow. “Beau is gone,” she repeats, the words flat with disbelief.
“What do you mean?” I look at her, then back at the steering wheel as I tighten my hands around it.
“No shot he would just leave you in the middle of this,” she says, louder now.
“That’s not like him at all.” She gestures wildly at me with her free hand, the universal sign for what the hell?
I lift my eyebrows and try not to interrupt their conversation.
She listens again. Her face changes as I watch fear take hold.
“He went to answer the door,” she says slowly, repeating Elowen’s words for me.
“And the front door is now wide open. No Beau in sight.” My mouth goes dry.
The parking lot seems to shrink around us.
“Okay,” she says into the earpiece. “Stay where you are. Lock your bedroom door, if you can. Just don’t go anywhere.
I’m on my way.” She ends the call and rips the earpiece out, tossing it onto the console.
It skids and knocks into the dancing hula girl on my dash.
I don’t wait for her to speak. “We’re going back,” I say.
“Now,” she replies. I shift back into gear. The engine answers with a low growl. Before the conversation starts again, we are back on the road. The trees blur. The roads unspool in a tight gray ribbon. The rain continues to beat down on us.
“Do you think someone took him?” I ask. The question feels stupid the second it leaves my mouth. Beau can’t just be taken like that.
Her jaw clenches. “He wouldn’t leave on his own, someone made him.” We are quiet for a stretch of cracked pavement that sounds like bones under the tires.
“Is she doing okay?” I ask. “She has to be scared out of her fucking mind right now.”
“She’s trying to be brave,” Imani answers.
“She does that when she’s scared. Covers up her fears with a solemn face.
” I nod. I know that look. I have seen it on both of them.
The chorus of the next song returns, too much for the moment.
I reach out and turn the volume down another notch.
Imani stares straight ahead, hands twisted together in her lap.
“We’ll get there,” I soften my voice. “And we’ll figure it out.” She lets out a breath that was almost a laugh but not close enough.
“I hate not knowing what happened to him. Or worse what could happen with her alone in her current state.”
“Same,” I say. “But we know a few things for now at least. If the door is open and Beau is missing, then something is seriously wrong.” She turns her head then and looks at me fully. There’s fear in her eyes, and something else, something like trust she wasn’t ready to hand over yet.
“Thank you for driving,” she says. “I would climb out of my own skin if I had to sit still and focus.”
“Anytime,” I say. “You can sing the whole way if it helps.”
She snorts. “You’ll regret that.” The road curves.
I take it faster than I should have, tires protesting, heart kicking at my ribs.
I picture Elowen alone in that house with the door wide open, trying to process her transition.
I picture Beau being nabbed at the door by god knows who.
None of it fits. None of it makes any sense.
Imani presses her palm against the dashboard like she can push the car forward by sheer will. “Faster? Please,” she asks, as if I’m a pro F1 driver. I lean into the next stretch and give the car some more gas. The engine climbs as the miles start to fall away.
Whatever waits at that house, we will face it together. And if someone has taken Beau, they are in for a rude awakening.