Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

Her face was little more than an inch from his own. He trembled. He was in awe of her. It was like being within grabbing distance of the twitching, exposed end of a live electrical wire. He was afraid to touch her. He cleared his throat. “You promise?”

She smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I fucking promise.” Then she squeezed harder, digging her fingers painfully into his flesh. “And if you ever accuse me of planning to ditch you again, I’ll fuck your shit up but good. That’s a promise, too. Understand?”

Rob nodded. “Jesus. Yeah. I understand.”

Roxie relaxed the pressure on his shoulder and looked at Julie. “How do you think my man would look as a blond?”

Julie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Could work, maybe. Do that really bright blond thing and cut his hair, make it spiky.”

Rob shook his head. “No. No way.”

Roxie laughed. “Sorry, Rob. What I say goes, remember?”

Julie clapped her hands and hopped up and down in her chair. “It’s fugitive make over time!”

An emotional numbness came over him as he listened to them talk excitedly about look possibilities, and he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Once he was inside, he closed the door and locked it. Then he sat on the toilet seat and covered his face with his hands.

How do I get out of this?

He sighed.

He didn’t share Roxie’s confidence in her abilities to keep him beyond the reach of the law indefinitely. That would be a far easier thing for one person traveling alone to manage.

Face it, he thought. You’re fucked.

He was. He was sure of it.

And he had a sinking feeling they were just about at the end of the line.

March 26

The rhythms of the tide were even more soothing at night. The ocean was a mass of shifting darkness out there beyond the pale slice of beach. There was something more suggestive of the primordial about the dark waters at night, a feeling that instilled her with a level of peace that was elusive in her regular life.

The door behind her opened and Annalisa stepped out on the balcony with a drink in hand. She wore shorts and a purple halter. Her mop of strawberry blonde curls was still wet from the ocean and hung almost straight, the lustrous tips brushing her shoulders. “Mind if I join you?”

Zoe forced a smile. “Of course not.”

She did mind. A little. The time alone had been nice. There had been precious little of it since their arrival in Myrtle Beach. And she felt a little weird around Annalisa in light of what Emily had told her about Sean. Still, Annalisa was her friend. She wasn’t to blame for Sean’s boorishness.

Annalisa sat in the rocking chair next to the one occupied by Zoe. “Nice out here.”

Zoe’s smile became genuine. “Mmm…yeah.”

Annalisa cleared her throat. “I sort of had sex with Emily.”

Zoe’s eyes became perfectly round for a moment and she twisted around in the chair to look fully at her friend. “What? Are you fucking serious?”

Annalisa winced. “Yeah.”

Zoe gaped at her. “How do you ‘sort of’ have sex with somebody? Either you did or you didn’t.”

Annalisa raised the glass to her mouth and took a sip. She licked her lips and stared out at the ocean. “Right. Okay. I did. I had sex with her.”

“I can’t believe this. Jesus.”

“Sorry. I know I’ve kind of blindsided you with this.”

“What about Sean?”

Annalisa grunted. “What about him? This doesn’t change anything. It was just a fun experiment.”

“I thought you hated her.”

“Still don’t like her. I’m not dumb. I know she’s just using me somehow, the way she does with everybody else.” Annalisa stared at her lap and rolled the glass between her hands. “But, shit, Zoe, she’s just so ridiculously hot. It’s like I was helpless. I knew better, but couldn’t stop myself.”

Tell me about it, Zoe thought.

“That face. That body. So exquisite.” She laughed and knocked back some more of her drink. “Plus…I was sort of sloshed. Had something like four or five margaritas before she cornered me.”

“Funny how often alcohol’s involved when you do things you wouldn’t normally ever consider.”

Annalisa laughed again. “I’m such a fucking cliché. Getting wasted and getting it on with a chick on spring break. Only thing missing was the Girls Gone Wild camera crew.”

Zoe chuckled. “Yeah. I’m sorry, but you’re right.”

Annalisa groaned. “I know, I know.” She shook the glass. “I need a refill.” She started to rise. “Can I get you something?”

“No thanks.”

Annalisa paused with her hand on the door’s handle. “You don’t seem to be partying very much. Something wrong?”

“No. I just don’t feel like getting wasted. Maybe tomorrow night.”

“Suit yourself, party pooper.”

Annalisa opened the door and stepped back inside.

Zoe was happy to be alone again. The only person she wouldn’t mind spending some time with was Chuck, but he was too busy slamming the drinks back with the guys. And there was a nasty edge in the ongoing banter between Chuck and Joe. She kept expecting them to come to blows. It hadn’t happened yet, but it seemed like a real possibility. And it wasn’t just those two. Something had happened to poison the atmosphere between all of them. No. Not something. Someone. She knew who was to blame. She wasn’t completely blind. But it wasn’t something she wanted to deal with right now. It raised too many hard questions.

A strong and sudden impulse to be away from it all got her up and moving. A staircase at the left side of the balcony led down to the swimming pool. She hurried down the stairs and padded across the cement deck to the gate at the back of the pool. She opened the gate and glanced back at the house. The second and third floor balconies were both empty.

Good.

No one to see. No one to know where I’ve gone.

She closed the gate and crossed the short bridge to the barrier dune. She paused at the far side of the bridge to remove her sandals. Then she was moving down the beach, relishing the gritty feel of the sand beneath her bare feet. The gritty texture gave way to a spongy feel as she neared the water. The tide was louder down here. More primal. It was like the roar of some great and ancient beast. She waded into the dark depths, kept going until the water was nearly over her shoulders. She took a deep breath and dove.

Darkness enveloped her.

It was like floating in an endless, sightless void.

She wished she could stay there forever.

March 27

The twenty-four-hour Walgreens on South Kings Highway in Myrtle Beach wasn’t exactly jumping at two in the morning. The three fugitives arguing in the hair-products aisle became the only customers in the store after an old lady with rollers in her pink hair hobbled out with her Geritol purchase.

“You’re going blond and that’s final.”

“You know, you keep saying ‘that’s final’ about things. You sound like a fucking dictator, Roxie.”

“That’s what I am.”

“I just don’t think blond is the way to go. It’s too obvious.”

Roxie snorted and rolled her eyes.

“I’m totally serious. My hair is very dark, almost black. A lighter shade of brown would be more subtle, less likely to draw a second look. You could even put in a bit of gel, I guess. How’s that for a compromise?”

Roxie smacked his chest with a box of Clairol Born Blonde. “Fuck your compromise.”

Rob stared aghast at the package pressed against his chest. “Come on, Roxie. This is for chicks. I’ll look ridiculous.”