Bottom Feeder (10 page)

After Mama goes to work, I drift into
a restless sleep until after seven.

So many questions come to mind while
driving to Hettie’s.

Is this a date? She probably considers
this a date. Does it matter if it’s a date?

Should I kiss her? No, probably not.
Kissing is nice. Maybe.

Do I report back to Cordell when the
assigned task is complete? Why am I thinking of a human being as an
assigned task?

The most important
question: why am I
nervous
?

Maddy

The movie Dixon
picked
justsohappened
to be about a mythical species that preys on unsuspecting
people by taking advantage of and sucking the lives from
them.

Not
a coincidence.

Jackson pulls into a parking space as
I am locking my bicycle at the rack. He is clad in the standard
attire for Hettie’s: linen khaki shorts, flip flops, and a white
long sleeve button-down with the sleeves rolled up to slightly
below his elbows, displaying the impressive cords of muscles in his
forearms.

“
God almighty Jesus in a
crumb cake,” I mumble under my breath.

Dixon scowls, cutting a sideways glare
at me.

“
Play nice,” I mutter
through clenched teeth.

Jackson smiles. “You look
pretty.”

Even though the line isn’t genuine,
darnnit if he doesn’t look good delivering it. He could recite the
alphabet and I would probably swoon. Pathetic.

“
She always looks
beautiful
,” Dixon snaps,
crossing his arms and widening his stance.

Oh, he
can
not
be
serious.

The look on Jackson’s face is a mix of
incredulous amusement with a hint of anger. Not a good start for my
first . . . wait . . . is this a date?

No. Maybe. No, probably not.
Definitely not.

“
Thank you.” I turn to
Dixon. “Thanks for the movie and dropping me off. I’ll get my
duffle tomorrow.”

Giving me one last scowl,
Dixon drops his arms and huffs away to his truck. He has decided
not to stay at the beach. He refuses to be, and I quote,
“
within a mile of the
incubus glamouring unsuspecting victims.”

“
Two dates in one day?”
Jackson asks, opening the door to Hettie’s.

I laugh at the thought of considering
Dixon my date.

“
What’s so
funny?”

We walk up a set of stairs to the
outdoor balcony that overlooks the beach. Jackson pulls out my
chair like a gentleman. I smile. I’m a sucker for good
manners.

“
I’ve never thought of
anyone looking at the time Dixon and I spend together as a
date.”

“
Is he gay?” His tone is
conversational, but my defenses go on alert.

CC, my usual server, takes our order
of the surf and turf special for Jackson and a steamed vegetable
plate and fried okra for me.

I absolutely love this place. The
wooden picnic tables with checkered tablecloths and tiny jukeboxes
on the tabletops give such a relaxed atmosphere to this little
piece of paradise on Tybee Island. Everyone comes here, locals and
tourist alike. If you want to see and be seen in this town, come to
Hettie’s.

“
Friendships between men
and women are difficult without some form of attraction,” Jackson
says. “Dixon seems very, ah,
territorial
. The only logical reason
you never dated is that he’s gay.”

CC places our drinks on
the table, shooting me a wink and a sideways smile that says
good job on the hot fellow
.

“
Dixon isn’t territorial,”
I reply. “Just concerned.”

Crap. I could kick myself for saying
that out loud. It’s going to be a long night.

“
Concerned?” Jackson
shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Libby?”

“
Libby,” I confirm. One
hard sigh lets me know just how much he remembers about Dixon’s
older sister. “I am not Libby,” I remind him. “No need to worry
about me climbing in Violet’s window.”

A smile of relief spreads across his
face.

“
I’m buying the
Barracuda,” he states after CC places our food on the table. He
frowns at my vegetable plate.

“
Really?” The Barracuda is
one of Daddy’s all-time favorites. Someone once leaned against it
and I thought he was going to have a stroke. Jackson escorting me
to New York City must be one of the stipulations to get the car.
There’s probably cash involved, too.

I close my eyes to remove the anger
that is trying to appear on my face. Daddy and his stupid business
deals.

“
I’ve been eyeing Myrtle
since the first time I saw it at the car show a few years
ago.”

“
Myrtle?” I laugh. Jackson
smiles as the slightest hint of crimson touches his cheeks. If
hearts could melt, mine just did. Man he’s good. “I like it.
Classic, yet different.”

“
Exactly!” Jackson
exclaims, a look of respect crossing his beautiful face.

An uneasy tension radiates from across
the table while I try to think of something to say. I want to tell
him to run as far away from Cordell Carrington as possible. But how
do I do that when it’s hard to formulate a sentence around
him?

I don’t date. I would not know how to
date if given a manual with pictures and step-by-step instructions.
This is definitely going to be a long night.

“
What was the worst part
of your day?” I ask, popping a piece of okra in my
mouth.

“
Huh?”

“
The worst part of your
day. What was it?”

“
Why?” He creases his brow
in confusion.

I shrug. “Conversation.”

Jackson leans back in the chair. “The
worst part would have to be Cordell allowing me to buy the
Barracuda.”

“
Isn’t that what you
wanted?”

“
Definitely,” he laughs
without humor. “But I’m not sure if I can afford the . . .” He
hesitates, “The payment plan.”

“
If I know my father, I’m
sure a small piece of your soul went into that payment
plan.”

Crap! I did
not
mean to say that out
loud. I really have to get this under control.

Jackson’s face sets into a
grimace, telling me I am not far off the mark. I quickly change the
subject. “What has been the
best
part of your day?”

“
Hmm. . .” He opens his
mouth and closes it, quickly changing his original answer. Trust
me, I know these things.

“
The best part is being
with you, of course.” He smiles triumphantly at his weak
attempt.

“
Liar,” I chuckle and
shake my head. “I sure hope you don’t use that line to win over the
ladies.” I laugh again and toss a piece of broccoli in my mouth. He
laughs with me and leans forward to take a handful of okra. I smack
his hand. “Nobody touches the okra, Hoss.”

“
Okay, okay,” he laughs
with a mouthful of deliciously fried goodness. “I guess the best
part of my day would have to be Cordell allowing me to buy the
Barracuda.”

I am officially confused.

“
Catch Twenty-Two,” he
shrugs. “I’ve been eyeing that car since I was fifteen, Maddy.
Something as insignificant as a small piece of my soul isn’t going
to keep me from having what I want.”

I look down to focus on my plate of
food, reigning in my temper. Jackson has no idea how far in over
his head he is. From what I’ve learned over the past few months, no
one goes into a deal with Cordell Carrington and comes out
intact.

For the remainder of dinner, the only
sounds are forks scraping against plates and the low murmur from
surrounding tables. A few people approach to greet Jackson,
slapping him on the back and thanking him for serving our
country.

In between those times, Jackson eats
through another plate of food and dessert like someone is about to
steal his food. Suddenly, as if on cue, his utensils clang against
the plate and he stands to leave.

Like I am not even there.

His shift with me must be over. I
quickly dab the napkin to my mouth and stand.

“
Oh.” He stares at my
half-eaten plate. “Sorry.”

“
That’s okay. I’m pretty
full.”

Jackson digs into his pocket and
throws down money for the bill and a tip. The twenty percent is
generous enough, but when his back is turned I slip a fifty on the
table for CC.

“
Thanks for dinner,” I
say.

“
Sure. No problem.
Anytime.”

I wave goodbye and proceed
reluctantly to my beach cruiser. I am not in the mood to make the
five-mile bike ride home. Okay, the problem is not the five miles.
A snowball has more of a chance in hell than I do with Jackson. A
girl can pretend, right? Looking at his beautiful face a little
while longer would undoubtedly be the best part of
my
day.

“
Hey, where are you
going?” Jackson calls out.

“
Um, home?”

“
How about we take a
walk?”

My mouth pops open and quickly snaps
shut. Maybe his shift is over at midnight or something.

“
I’ve got some packing to
do,” I lie. The bulk of my stuff was sent to New York days
ago.

I usually prefer to be
around people who
want
to be around me. You know, those who are not
responding to threats
fulfilling favors for my father.

Jackson shifts uncomfortably. Yep,
threats were absolutely involved.

I sigh. “You don’t have to do this. I
assume Daddy thinks I will not trust you. I may not know you very
well—at all, really—but I know Violet and that’s enough.” I smile
to hide my shame. Years of fake enthusiasm and hiding what I really
feel pay off during moments like this. “I’ll tell him we spent
plenty of time together.”

His face locks in a
grimace.

“
Have fun while you’re
home,” I say and mean it. “I’m sure you had plans before he made
them for you.”

“
I only planned on
sleeping.” Jackson looks at the ground and kicks absently at
nothing. “I was hoping you
want
to spend more time with me. But if you don’t want
to . . .” He pauses, peeking at me from underneath his lashes, his
malachite eyes sullen. “Please?”

Crap. Dixon was right.
Jackson really
is
an incubus. “Well I guess you found my Kryptonite.” I hop off
my bike and push it to the beach entrance.

“
What do you mean?” he
asks innocently.

Tonight the beach is
mostly ours, aside from a small group at the far end and a few
couples spread out here and there. Since it is nesting season for
turtles, the beach is relatively dark. The
law prevents any disturbance to the turtles and hatchlings,
so an
y use of light after nine o’clock is
prohibited on parts of the beach where there may be
nests.

The lack of light is an advantage.
Maybe I will not say stupid things if I can’t see his
face.

I prop my cruiser against a wooden
post and kick off my sandals.

“
So tell me,” Jackson
grins, “What has been the worst part of your day?”

“
It hasn’t happened yet,”
I answer, walking closer to the water. The moon glitters on
white-capped waves. I curl my toes into the fine grains of sand,
still warm from the day’s hot sun.

“
Oh really? Are you
anticipating something bad?”

“
No,” I lie. I always
anticipate something bad. Does that make me an optimistic
pessimist? Or a pessimistic optimist?

He smiles and inches
closer. My heart thrums against my chest when his fingers brush my
hand. “The
best
part of your day?”

You have been the best
part of my day
.

“
You have been the best
part of my day,” I say aloud.

What. The. Hell? Did that
really just roll off my tongue? Did my mouth really commit the
highest form of
stupid stuff to say in
front of a really hot guy
treason?

I turn away from him and pray the
ground will open up and swallow me.

“
I’m sorry,” I say
quickly. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Jackson

“
You didn’t mean it?” I am
oddly disappointed by this.

Maddy stares absently at the champagne
waves moving around our feet. “My mouth seems to be conspiring
against me.”

I take a few steps back to give her
space. The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable. The
night has been awkward because of me. Hettie’s was crowded as
always. The walls seemed like they were closing in. I tried to
finish eating as quickly as possible in order to get outside. In
the process, I made myself look like an ass.