Series: Lee Savino
Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
She was such a good, loyal friend in high school, even though I felt like a side character in her glamorous life.
Her mom shouts her name, and she winces. “I have to go. But I’m counting down the hours until I can call you again. I want to hear all about your date.” She wishes me luck, and we say goodbye.
My date. I shove down the fluttering butterflies in my stomach.
Guess I’m on my own. But…I have my own back. That’s what the last few weeks have taught me. And Matthias said yes to a date when I was wearing minimal make-up. We’re going on a hike, it’s not like I need to go full glam.
I pick up my favorite peachy blush with new determination.
What kind of father buys his daughter makeup?
A MAC daddy.
Our doorbell rings, and I drop the blush with a clatter. Is Matthias here? No, we said we’d meet at the trailhead. In two hours.
There’s a big, shadowy figure beyond the door. I hesitate, but I know everyone on Bad Bear Mountain.
But when I open it, I don’t recognize the guy at all. He’s a huge white guy with a beer gut, middle-aged with a ruddy complexion. His clothes reek of cigarette smoke.
“Maisy Bennett?” He looks me up and down.
“Who are you?”
“Your dad’s been trying to reach you,” he says.
A cold wind blows through me. My dad…is troubled. He’s an addict, which means he’s been a shitty father. I’ve had therapy, so I know it’s not my fault, but it’s still hard not to want something from him–love, attention, caring–whatever, and then still be disappointed when he never gives it.
I’m glad Matthias helped me block his calls. I should’ve cut him out years ago.
“He wants to talk to you,” the man says.
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Not an option.”
That’s when I notice that there’s a big white creeper van with Nevada plates parked out by our mailbox. I’ve noticed it around a few times and thought it was a paint van.
I don’t have a good feeling about this. Something tells me to slam the door in the guy’s face, so I do, but he has his boot propping it open.
He grabs my arm, and shock makes me freeze. I open my mouth to scream, but he pulls close and covers my mouth. His hand smells like tobacco, and I gag.
I hear the footfalls of a second pair of boots. There’s another guy here, tall and thin with stringy hair around his pale and narrow face. He’s holding a syringe in his hand. Terror grips me, and the world wavers as the second guy comes close to stick me with the needle.
“You’re coming with us,” he says.
“No,” I whimper through the hand clamped over my mouth. For a wild second, I see Matthias’s face in front of mine. He’ll be at the trailhead waiting for me. We’re supposed to go on a date.
Today was supposed to be the best day of my life.
There’s a prick on my arm, and the world swirls away.
Matthias
I’m ten minutes early to our meeting point at the trailhead. My bear is antsy even though I took a dose of Moon Cure before I came. Dullness radiates through my limbs and torso, muting my hunger, blunting my fangs. I convinced my bear that taking a dose was for the best to protect Maisy, but neither of us like how it numbs us.
My bear grows more agitated five minutes past the hour, so I text her. Fifteen minutes in, my bear is so riled I have to start pacing to let some energy out.
She wouldn’t be late. Or maybe she would be. I know everything there is to know about Maisy on paper–from a distance. But I purposely haven’t engaged with her much socially.
Is she the type to show up late? Somehow, it doesn’t seem like her. She’s responsible. Organized. Shy.
Thirty minutes in, I call Maisy, and when it goes to voicemail, I pocket my phone and jog toward her house.
Something’s wrong.
Now I’m sure. Maisy wouldn’t be late. She’s a very organized person. Most people don’t realize how much she does. She manages a coffee shop that’s more than a place to get a drink–it’s the social hub and true third space that creates community in our small town. I suspect she’s the reason Daisy is so successful as mayor, too. She’s the quiet competence executing Daisy’s wild hare-brained schemes.
Did she change her mind about the date? Was she too intimidated to text me? I know how much I fluster her.
But no, she’s too kind, and she respects me too much. She wouldn’t leave me hanging.
Which means my bear is right to be upset. Fuck! I should have called her immediately.
I have a bad feeling about this.
I smell something foul as I step onto her street. Cigarettes, strange human, my bear reports.