statement,
but nodded his head. “Of course we’re taking this seriously.”
“Great.” I now turned to Denver. The secret
to breaking up a fight between boys was never to appear to be
taking sides. “I appreciate all your help, but I do not want to
come between you two,” I pointed at the both of them. “Now I’m
going to grab my stuff, and I’m going to find somewhere else to
stay.”
“You really don’t need to,” Thorne
began.
“But I’m going to because I have no idea
what’s going on here, and I hate this motel anyway,” I answered
flatly.
For a time nobody said anything. Then Thorne
looked down at his shoes, up at me, and then slowly over to
Denver.
The two boys shot each other deadly
glances, and then Thorne turned his attention right back to me.
“Alright then, I guess I better get back to it. We still up for...”
he trailed off.
“Vietnamese? I guess so. I can’t promise you
I’ll eat much, but I’m going to need the company tonight.” It was a
very direct answer, and I can’t say I was flirting at all. It was
honest; I didn’t want to be alone, but I doubted I would be much
fun to be around. Thorne would likely do all the talking while I
sat alongside, ignored my food, and ate my fingernails instead.
“Okay, great, I guess,” Thorne answered
confusedly then shot me another smile, waved, and started to walk
off. “You’re going to be fine, Patti Smith. We aren’t going to let
anything happen to you.”
I nodded.
It took until Thorne was in his car and
driving away before Denver mumbled, “you’re only going to be fine
if you take steps to make yourself be fine.”
I slowly turned to face him.
Was it just me, or did he look slightly
crestfallen?
He couldn’t be that bothered by the fact I
was going out to have dinner with his brother, could he? Denver
didn’t look interested in me... or was he just playing hard to
get?
I couldn’t tell; the guy was decidedly
unreadable. He had one expression and one expression only: a kind
of hard, blank gaze that told you he didn’t like anyone
particularly much and that included you.
Yet right now he looked... I don’t know,
kind of awkward. A little like he had looked when Nancy had chucked
her arms around him and pushed her bust right up into his
chin.
“Do you think you can call that friend of
yours and ask if I can stay in her spare room?” I played with my
fingernails as I looked past him at my room.
He nodded.
Silence spread between us. I could hear the
cicadas beating their wings in the afternoon warmth. There were
birds twittering from above, and from behind the motel there was
the creak and crack of the forest.
He didn’t say a word, yet he didn’t walk off
either.
“Is this what I’m meant to be doing? Should
I stay here or just go home?” I asked him. I didn’t know why I did,
but I was feeling particularly tender and vulnerable. While the guy
was arrogant and blustery, he clearly knew what he was doing,
possibly quite a bit more than his brother. What Thorne made up for
in general friendliness, apparently he lacked in his ability to
deal with the threat of an impending murder.
Denver looked at me for a long moment. “Go
home.”
“But you said—” I began.
“I’ve changed my mind. Go home. Get out of
Wetlake.”
I was a little taken aback.
Before, he’d been unable to conclude which
would be the safer option; now, he was coming down hard on leaving
this place and leaving now. A little of me wondered whether that
had something to do with the fact I was going to meet his brother
for dinner in a little under two hours. The rest of me wondered
whether Denver had simply reassessed the situation, using his
superior knowledge and training, and had concluded that it really
was safer to leave.
I felt sick, really sick.
I pressed the back of my hand into my mouth
and tried to swallow.
“We have no idea who committed that murder,
and we have no idea what their plans are next. Now I am betting on
the
but nodded his head. “Of course we’re taking this seriously.”
“Great.” I now turned to Denver. The secret
to breaking up a fight between boys was never to appear to be
taking sides. “I appreciate all your help, but I do not want to
come between you two,” I pointed at the both of them. “Now I’m
going to grab my stuff, and I’m going to find somewhere else to
stay.”
“You really don’t need to,” Thorne
began.
“But I’m going to because I have no idea
what’s going on here, and I hate this motel anyway,” I answered
flatly.
For a time nobody said anything. Then Thorne
looked down at his shoes, up at me, and then slowly over to
Denver.
The two boys shot each other deadly
glances, and then Thorne turned his attention right back to me.
“Alright then, I guess I better get back to it. We still up for...”
he trailed off.
“Vietnamese? I guess so. I can’t promise you
I’ll eat much, but I’m going to need the company tonight.” It was a
very direct answer, and I can’t say I was flirting at all. It was
honest; I didn’t want to be alone, but I doubted I would be much
fun to be around. Thorne would likely do all the talking while I
sat alongside, ignored my food, and ate my fingernails instead.
“Okay, great, I guess,” Thorne answered
confusedly then shot me another smile, waved, and started to walk
off. “You’re going to be fine, Patti Smith. We aren’t going to let
anything happen to you.”
I nodded.
It took until Thorne was in his car and
driving away before Denver mumbled, “you’re only going to be fine
if you take steps to make yourself be fine.”
I slowly turned to face him.
Was it just me, or did he look slightly
crestfallen?
He couldn’t be that bothered by the fact I
was going out to have dinner with his brother, could he? Denver
didn’t look interested in me... or was he just playing hard to
get?
I couldn’t tell; the guy was decidedly
unreadable. He had one expression and one expression only: a kind
of hard, blank gaze that told you he didn’t like anyone
particularly much and that included you.
Yet right now he looked... I don’t know,
kind of awkward. A little like he had looked when Nancy had chucked
her arms around him and pushed her bust right up into his
chin.
“Do you think you can call that friend of
yours and ask if I can stay in her spare room?” I played with my
fingernails as I looked past him at my room.
He nodded.
Silence spread between us. I could hear the
cicadas beating their wings in the afternoon warmth. There were
birds twittering from above, and from behind the motel there was
the creak and crack of the forest.
He didn’t say a word, yet he didn’t walk off
either.
“Is this what I’m meant to be doing? Should
I stay here or just go home?” I asked him. I didn’t know why I did,
but I was feeling particularly tender and vulnerable. While the guy
was arrogant and blustery, he clearly knew what he was doing,
possibly quite a bit more than his brother. What Thorne made up for
in general friendliness, apparently he lacked in his ability to
deal with the threat of an impending murder.
Denver looked at me for a long moment. “Go
home.”
“But you said—” I began.
“I’ve changed my mind. Go home. Get out of
Wetlake.”
I was a little taken aback.
Before, he’d been unable to conclude which
would be the safer option; now, he was coming down hard on leaving
this place and leaving now. A little of me wondered whether that
had something to do with the fact I was going to meet his brother
for dinner in a little under two hours. The rest of me wondered
whether Denver had simply reassessed the situation, using his
superior knowledge and training, and had concluded that it really
was safer to leave.
I felt sick, really sick.
I pressed the back of my hand into my mouth
and tried to swallow.
“We have no idea who committed that murder,
and we have no idea what their plans are next. Now I am betting on
the
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