Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

The words brought forth another gush of tears. She wiped them away and sniffled. “I guess I was suppressing this. God, I’m such an idiot. I’d hate to lose my best friend over one freaky night.”

Emily smiled. “Honey, you’re not about to lose me.”

“Well…good.”

Emily, as always, looked amazing. Stunning. Everything toned but shapely. Legs so long and lean. Hair so perfect. The face of an angel crossed with a 1940s femme fatale. She looked like a movie star, like a woman born for a life of glitz and glamor. Hell, she was young yet. Zoe suspected those things lurked somewhere in her friend’s future.

Emily let go of her hand and reached into the tote bag she’d carried to the beach with her. She pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, and punched in a number.

“Who are you calling?”

Emily smirked. “Remember Clayton Wilson?”

“That pitiful geek who had a crush on you last fall?”

“Yep.”

“Why are you calling him?”

Emily’s smile was evil. “To play with him a little.”

Zoe laughed. “You’re such a bad girl.”

“You know it.” Emily’s face brightened, and when she spoke her tone was one of bubbly enthusiasm. “Hey, Clay!”

A tinny voice came from the cell phone’s speaker.

Emily winked at Zoe. “Yeah, baby, I’ve missed you, too. Sooo much.”

Zoe covered a giggle with a hand.

Emily touched her knee and mouthed the word Stop! She grinned and again spoke in that obnoxious bubbly tone. “I wish I could see you right now. I’ve been thinking about you every day for weeks.“

That tinny voice emanated from the phone again.

Emily shook her head. “No, no, no. I was gonna go to Myrtle Beach, but I had a huge fight with stupid Joe right before we left and stayed behind.” Her voice had turned pensive, and she nodded along as the voice from the other end spoke painfully earnest words of comfort and reassurance. “I know, I know. It’s not fair at all. But I know what would make me feel better, baby. Do you think you could meet me up at the Villager Tavern tonight? Say around seven?”

Loud squeaking sounds emerged from the cell phone’s speaker.

Sounds of joy.

Zoe covered another giggle, and Emily slapped her knee and waved an admonishing finger.

“Yeah, good. So glad to hear that, Clay. We’ll just hang out and have fun. Maybe stroll around campus hand in hand.” Now she sounded wistful, as if this would be the fulfillment of a fond wish. “Awesome. Excellent. Love you, too, sweetie. See ya at seven. We’re gonna have so much fun. Ciao, baby.”

She flipped the phone shut and giggled.

Zoe uncovered her mouth and laughed out loud. “That was fucking sick, Emily. That poor boy.”

Emily smiled. “It was awesome. And you know it.”

Zoe smiled back. “Yeah.”

Emily laughed. “Can you just picture it? That little loser waiting and waiting, walking around, looking all over for me, staring at his cheap watch? Too bad all my friends are off campus this week, or I’d have somebody go over there and get some video footage, maybe put it up on YouTube.”

Zoe thought of something and her smile withered. “Huh…don’t you feel sort of hypocritical now?”

“Why would I?”

Zoe frowned. “Well…you were so hard on Chuck about how he treated that little goth girl. I was mad at him, too. I feel sort of bad now.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. You know I just like to fuck with Chuck. I don’t really give a damn about that stupid girl. Speaking of Chuck…are you two really back on? I thought the split was a done deal.”

Zoe picked up her Corona bottle again and took a sip. “It’s complicated. I guess we’re back on. For now.” Her mood shifted again, her eyes twinkling and her smile curving in a way that suggested naughty thoughts. “We’ve been having some wicked-hot sex.”

Emily snorted. “Maybe he should get the shit beat out of him more often.”

Zoe grinned. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Emily stood up and stretched, purposely displaying the full glory of her gorgeous figure. “I think it’s time I got wet.”

Zoe stared at her. “Yeah.”

Emily started walking toward the ocean. She turned and walked backward a few steps as she said, “Come on, Zoe. Come get wet with me.”

Then she turned away again and sprinted toward the ocean. She waded out until the water was up over her hips, then she sucked in a breath and dove beneath the surface. She surfaced again some twenty yards farther out, bobbing above the water like the top half of the hottest mermaid ever.

She spotted Zoe and waved.

Zoe waved back.

She finished off her beer and stood up, began to walk toward the ocean. She smiled, her gaze alternating between the still-recumbent form of Chuck Kirby and the sleek, dazzling water acrobatics of the best friend she’d ever had.

She shivered with delight at the first sensation of water sliding over her feet.

Time to get wet.

March 24

The motel parking lot was jammed with the cars of spring breakers. The Tercel was wedged between a powder blue Mustang and a black BMW in a row of cars facing a long, two-story wing of the motel. Rob sat in the Tercel’s driver’s seat, drumming his thumbs along the upper curve of the steering wheel. Roxie sat scrunched down in the passenger seat, her feet propped on the dash. Rob kept glancing at her. Her new outfit was bugging him. She wore tan khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt with a picture of a surfboard on the front, both purchased from a nearby souvenir shop. The clothes looked good on her. That wasn’t the problem. The girl would look good in anything. They just didn’t look…right. If you ignored the several visible tattoos, she could pass for any preppie college kid out for a hot time in the sun and sand.

She looked at him. “For fuck’s sake…what?“

“Those clothes don’t look right on you.”

She smiled. “I should be wearing something cool, right? Something tight and black, with a skull on it, maybe?”

“Well…yeah.”

“This is a costume. We need to blend in. You, too.”

Rob wore black jeans and a shiny button up black shirt with a bright red flame pattern across the front. The same duds he’d been wearing since she’d taken him.

“No. I…can’t.”

She smirked. “You’ll do it if I say so, bitch.”

Rob pulled a pained expression. “Please…don’t. I couldn’t bear it. I’m begging you. I’m allergic to khaki.”

Roxie laughed. “I do like to hear a man beg, so whatever.”

Rob gripped the steering wheel and started the thumb-drumming thing again. “Look. We’ve got money. Why don’t we just check in?”

Roxie shook her head. “No. I don’t want any motel clerk remembering us.”

“You didn’t seem worried about that before.”

“Things were different then.”

“How?”

“I wasn’t in love with you yet.”

Rob shifted in his seat, fidgeting a little as he became uncomfortable.

Okay, this is fucking crazy.

It was the third time she’d invoked the L-word today. He couldn’t fathom it. He liked her. Liked her a lot when she wasn’t killing somebody or doing something else completely insane. This was their third day together. Even leaving out all the craziness, wasn’t it a little soon to be bandying that word around? He didn’t know how he felt about her profession of love, assuming it was how she really felt. She could just be fucking with him again. But some deep-down instinct told him she wasn’t playing with his head this time. She liked him. Loved him. Or at least thought she did. And if she truly believed it, for her there would be no difference between delusion and true love. Rob’s feelings for her were complicated by so many things. The repugnant acts he’d seen her commit. His lingering feelings for both Charlene and Lindsey. But what truly troubled him was the sense this thing with Roxie was likely to be painfully brief. Her lifestyle was going to catch up to her sooner or later. One day she’d slip up and be caught or killed by the cops. There was no “happily ever after” waiting somewhere down the road for them. Just a steep and rapid drop deep into the heart of darkness.