Pretty Hate (New Adult Novel) (7 page)

“I’m an only child. My parents are still together. My mother is a charity wife.”

“Poor?”

“No,” he said and chuckled, “she’s on a lot of charity committees. My father is in politics. He’s a lobbyist, unfortunately.”

“You don’t agree with his politics?”

“No, not at all. What about you?”

“My family is not very...political,” I said.

“Must be nice. You can form your own opinions rather than having them shove theirs down your throat.”

“Yeah. So, have you always travelled?”

“Yes, always. Do you want to hear about it?”

“Very much,” I said and leaned forward.

Nicolas Miles spoke for hours about his travels and as he did, I pictured I was right by his side on his journeys. I smelled every smell, heard every sound and felt everything that he touched. We walked through rain forests and deserts and frozen lands. We rappelled down mountains and slept in hammocks under stars and made out under waterfalls. We had sex in 5-star hotels and hostels and surf camps.

When he was done with his stories, at the end of it all, I looked him and said:

“I want that.”

“Then you will have it,” he said and ran his hand down my arm. “We should travel together some time.”

Eight hours and six beers later, I was in love with Nicolas Miles. And I felt he, with me. Though he didn’t know me.

“I sent you a Facebook request when I was in the bathroom,” he said as we walked out into the parking lot. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I said and smiled as he put his arm around me.

“Is that your car?” he said as he looked at Rebel Love’s Benz. “Very nice. That’s my cousin’s old beater over there. Wow, look at the moon.”

I looked up at the big, full moon surrounded by a billion stars and took a deep breath of the cool air. West Virginia never smelled so good.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I had fun tonight. Thank you for the beers.”

We stood beside Rebel Love’s car and stared at one another. I forced myself to hold his gaze and sent him subliminal invitations to kiss me. I begged the gods not to let this most perfect night of my life end with a high-five and the promise of a call that never comes.

“Do you have to work tomorrow?” he said.

“Nope,” I said. “I’m free.”

“Can we sit on your car and look at the moon for a bit?”

“I’d really like that,” I said.

We crawled up on the hood of Rebel’s car and leaned back against her windshield as we stretched out next to one another.

He turned his head and stared at me.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.

I moved closer to him and he pressed his full lips against mine. My lower back and tummy tingled as he wiggled his beautiful, red tongue into my mouth. His hand went under my hair and gripped the back of my neck as he pulled me in further. I pressed my fingertips into his shoulder and my whole body throbbed. He nibbled on my lip as his mouth separated from mine.

Nicolas sat up and looked down at me.

“That was better than I imagined it would be,” he said and brushed his finger against my bottom lip.

“Me too,” I said and giggled.

“I have to tell you something, Beth,” he said.

My mind raced in circles as I waited for his confession...he has a girlfriend who is a Victoria Secret’s model...a wife and four kids...terminal brain cancer....he’s a registered sex offender...he is a girl.

“Tell me,” I said and held my breath.

“Day after tomorrow I’m leaving to go to Bali to join a group of friends for six weeks.”

“Bali?” I said.

“Yes. I know I should have told you, but I was afraid if I told you before, you wouldn’t go out with me. Then I was afraid you wouldn’t kiss me. I’m sorry. It was selfish.”

“Six weeks? Will we be able to stay in contact?” I said as my stomach knotted.

“Absolutely! Hey, why don’t you fly out? Even for a couple of weeks. My friends are really cool and I have a feeling you’ll fall in love with Bali.”

“Oh, I don’t think...” I said as I thought of my four hundred dollar bank balance.

“Work won’t give you the time off?” he said.

“No,” I said and sighed. “The holidays, you know?”

“Shit, Christmas,” he said and rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t even think of it. I’ve spent so many holidays away from my family. I bet you do family stuff, huh?”

I nodded as I thought of the Christmas before. My mother, in a tradition she started after my father left her on Christmas Day before I was born, played her Kiss record, got into a bottle of Jack Daniels, was sobbing by noon and passed out by one. Merry-Bell had just been institutionalized after doing a striptease for the prisoners outside their windows at the jail and claiming she was the Virgin Mary as she swam naked in the public fountain. Mazie Goodnight was in jail in Boston after being arrested for setting the disposable razors on fire in the CVS. Rebel Love was in Las Vegas watching over ten of Ivory-Lou’s girls at a big insurance convention. And I was judge number 14 at the annual Real or Fake Titty contest at Knockers because one of the judges had a gout attack and Ivory-Lou couldn’t find anyone else.

“Yeah, lots of family stuff,” I said. “So, the day after tomorrow, huh?”

“Are you mad?”

I looked into his eyes and tried to act cool as I pictured his plane going down in some remote forest and never seeing him again.

“No, I’m not mad at all. I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll talk all the time. You’ll probably be sick of me.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I said.

“Do you want to do something with me tomorrow?” he said and rested his hand on my stomach.

“Yes, of course.”

“I want to go out to Glade Creek. I was reading about the mill and it sounds really cool. Have you been?”

“I’ve wanted to take pictures out there forever, but I’ve never been,” I said.

“Are you a photographer?”

“Me? Oh, no. I have an old camera...the film-kind. My dad left it. My dad left it to me.”

“Perfect. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. It’ll be our first adventure.”

As he kissed me goodnight, I wished I could crawl into his warm, wet mouth and go with him wherever he went.

I pulled over after he passed me on the road and grabbed my phone and logged into Facebook. I accepted his friend request and scrolled through his posts and friends and pictures. When I was convinced I saw nothing cringe-worthy, I called Stephanie on the way home and told her all about my date.

“Wow,” she said, “he sounds incredible.”

“He really, really is. The whole time I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, Steph. I mean, the slutty waitress was full-on flirting with him and I waited for him to flirt back. I
expected
him to ask for her number. You know what? He never did.”

“A guy would never ask for another chick’s number in front of the girl he was on a first date with! Come on, Beth.”

“Oh, no? Believe me, it happens.”

CHAPTER FIVE

When I got into the house, Ivory-Lou was dozing off on the couch watching a movie.

“Time is it?” he said and stretched on the couch.

“Almost four,” I said and walked into the kitchen. “You just get home?”

“Nah, gave the girls the night off since we’re leaving so early tomorrow. So?”

“So?” I said as I rummaged around in the refrigerator.

“So, get me a beer and tell me about your date.”

“Jesus Christ, Archie Bunker, I’m not one of your girls.”

“Damn straight, if you was, you’d be paying me for that food you shove down your throat all the time. Get me a beer.”

I grabbed two bottles of beer and sat down on the couch next to him.

Ivory-Lou took a sip of his beer and stared at me.

“Aw, shit,” he said.

“What?” I said and smiled.

“You did the deed, didn’t you?”

“You’re such a dork. No, I didn’t do the deed.”

“Uh huh. I’ll be checking Rebel Love’s backseat with one of them ultraviolet lights for sperm stains tomorrow.”

“So gross,” I said and shook my head. “We talked and kissed.”

“Kissed
? Now who’s gross?” he said and yawned.

“We’re going out tomorrow too. He’s picking me up at ten o’clock. You and the ladies of the evening will be gone by then, I hope?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving at eight. Course, I could postpone it. Maybe I should meet this dude.”

“No! I like this guy. He’s different.”

Ivory-Lou took a drink and smacked his lips.

“Different,” he said and shook his head. “He’s got a pecker, don’t he? What makes him so different?”

“Well, he’s not from here, for one.”

“Geography. Irrelevant. Next!”

“He travels a lot. All the time.”

“Doesn’t like commitment. Next!”

“Um, he reads, like a lot. All the time and any book you can think of.”

“So do I. I think I proved my point. Where’s this different man taking you?”

“Glade Creek,” I said.

“Oh, smart move, Beth. Let a guy you don’t know take you out into the middle of the woods.”

“I know him,” I said and sipped my beer.

“Shit. The only thing you know is...shit. What does the serial killer do for work?”

“He’s a writer,” I said and giggled.

“Broke ass!” Ivory-Lou said and drank his beer. “We’re not gonna be home tomorrow so I’ll have to wait ‘til Monday morning to send the cadaver dogs to find your body.”

“Shut up! We connected, he and I. He doesn’t want to kill me. I think he wants to love me.”

“Love you
? Fuck you, maybe. Look,” he said and pointed at me, “I know you’re gonna have this asshole back to the house tomorrow night. Do not let him walk around by himself! I am telling you, Beth, if your broke-ass writer friend steals so much as a plastic fork from my house, it’s coming out of your ass. Understand?”

“Whatever,” I said and drank my beer as I glanced at the television. “Oh my God, are you watching
Uncle Buck
?”

“I don’t know. I just ran across it,” he said and finished his beer.

“Like hell! It’s
paused
and the DVD player is on. It’s the DVD! You’re actually watching
Uncle Buck
.”

“Listen, you best save your CSI skills to help you crawl out of the woods after your serial killer tries to cut your kidneys out of your back. Now, get your sassing ass to bed.”

The next morning I waited for Nicolas at the end of Ivory Lou’s driveway because three of the girls were late and they were all still in the house. I looked up at the house and Ivory Lou, Rebel Love and sixteen hookers were lined up with their faces pressed against the window.

The drive out to Glade Creek was amazing. Nicolas pointed out rock formations and trees and showed me things in the landscape that I never saw before, despite living there all my life.

Nicolas and I talked about music and art and politics. For the first time in my life I felt like I didn’t have to dumb myself down to be accepted during a conversation. I felt like I could be myself. Almost.

We stopped at a small grocery store outside the entrance to Babcock State Park and bought some food. When Nicolas said he didn’t eat meat, I flung the sliced turkey out of the cart while he looked at the beer.

“Looks like we have a choice between cans or cans,” he said.

“Cans are fine,” I said and smiled.

We pushed the little cart up the little aisles and made jokes about the large jars of pickled eggs suspended in blood broth and the moose jerky. He put his arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head in the checkout line.

When we got to the entrance to the grist mill, he threw everything into a cooler, grabbed a big blanket and we set out through the woods on our first adventure. We watched the mill churn as he told me about different rocks and fish we saw in the streambed. I walked around taking pictures for the first time in almost six months and I felt alive.

He found a secluded spot to have a beer and he spread the blanket out on a bed of fall leaves.

“That’s such a cool camera,” he said as I knelt on the ground and loaded my second roll of film. “Must be pretty special to you.”

“It is. I’ve had it all my life.”

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he said and walked toward me.

“I don’t have any work. I just fool around with it.”

“Don’t discount anything you do. Come here.”

Nicolas pulled me off the ground and kissed me. I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my body against his.

“You’re so beautiful, Beth,” he said as he brushed his lips against my ear. “I’m going to miss you.”