Burn Girl (20 page)

“Coke and chips, then?”

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

A long swallow of Coke softened the chips I'd stuffed in my mouth. I couldn't get enough of their saltiness and the tang of vinegar. “This is better than the burger and fries.”

“Sometimes it's the simple stuff that's best.” Frank opened a second bag and handed it to me. “Just don't make yourself sick. Take baby steps … er, I mean baby bites.”

We laughed comfortably as if junk food could wipe out Lloyd's existence.

“How could I not remember how Coke tasted?” I asked.

“It's so damn good, it's addictive,” he said. “So watch out.”

My smile faded at the mention of addiction even though he didn't mean anything by it.

“I just don't get what changed today,” Frank said, oblivious to my mood change. “It's so weird. After all this time.”

“Maybe the docs were right. It was all in my head.”

“I know, but what happened today specifically,” he mused. “Do you think talking to the police about Lloyd set you off? Were you especially emotional after I dropped you back at school?”

Emotional. Yeah, but not because of Lloyd. My heart raced as I replayed the kiss over and over in my mind. What would Cody taste like the next time I kissed him?

“I didn't feel any different today. Does it matter why?” I shouldn't have snapped, but I didn't want to share the real reason with him. At least not yet.

“Of course not. Sorry. Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Gift horse?”

“Never mind. It's an old-person thing.” Frank laughed deep and low. He seemed as happy as I was to have those senses back.

“Hey, we should try making your grandma's pralines,” I said, changing the subject. “That way I could taste one of your memories.”

“You give me way too much credit in the kitchen. Stir-frying is the extent of my culinary talent.”

I'd eaten dozens of his stir-fries, choking down the rice and ignoring the sliminess of overcooked broccoli and green pepper.

“Hey, don't be too sure it's a talent until I actually taste one,” I said.

Frank grabbed the open bag of chips from my hand. “Enough of the junk food. Let me make us some real food.”

I couldn't eat another thing. My belly roiled from the burger and fries, and now the greasiness of chips.
“No más, por favor
. I'm about to bust.”

“Didn't know you could speak
español.”

“I can't really. I picked up some from Rosa.”

Memories of my old friend had stayed fresh in my mind all these years. Unconditional love cemented them so they couldn't fade with time and distance. Rosa had allowed me to be a kid. Mom had loved me, but she wasn't the adult I needed. And Rosa gave the best hugs, rivaled only by Mo's.

“The bastard will pay for killing your friend and for hurting you. It won't be long before the police grab him. I'd put money on it.”

Frank was either extremely confident or a fabulous actor. Still, his assurances squelched some of the rising panic I felt. We had no idea where Lloyd was, but he knew exactly where we lived. He had the advantage.

After overdoing it with the chips, I hoped lying down would help. It didn't. All I wanted was to fall asleep and not wake up until tomorrow, which couldn't be as mind-blowing and exhausting as today.

“You okay in there? Need some Pepto-Bismol?” Frank was having too much fun at my expense.

“Your concern is heartwarming, but I think I'll live.”

Frank opened the door to my room, grinning like an idiot. When he sat down on the edge of the bed, my stomach heaved with the motion. “I'm going to pick up some tacos for dinner. Get up. You're coming with me. We can bike over for some exercise.”

“Watch it or I'll barf all over you.”

“Not like it'd be the first time. Oh, and you'll really like that smell and taste.”

“I'm glad you're in a better mood,” I said.

“How can I not be happy for you?” He leaned over and planted a fatherly kiss on my forehead.

“I'm happy for me too, but I feel like crap and don't want to go out. I'll be fine alone. Plus, the police have eyes on the trailer.”

“Yeah, but …”

“Frank, get on your bike and get your damn tacos. You can't watch me twenty-four seven.”

He got up and walked into the living room, returning immediately with the fake Bible. He placed it on the nightstand.

“Don't open the door for anyone. I'll be back in fifteen minutes tops.”

As soon as Frank shut the front door of the trailer, I opened the Bible and withdrew the gun hidden inside. My attempts to hit a target at the range had been worse than pathetic. Frank's advice was that if I found myself in danger, I should keep shooting until there were no bullets left. I guess that method would improve my odds of stopping someone, but stop them from doing what?

Part of me wished I'd gone with him to get tacos. My skin prickled as I strained to hear anything but the silence of the trailer. Would the front door hold if someone really wanted in?

Get a grip. You're freaking yourself out
.

I laid the gun on the bed beside me and opened my laptop to watch a sitcom on Hulu. Maybe a little humor would calm my nerves. It didn't. Instead, I obsessed on how thin my bedroom curtains were. Earlier, I'd stripped down to my sports bra and some pajama bottoms, but now I was self-conscious. At night, I couldn't see out, but anyone could see in if they stood in our yard. I turned off the lamp and closed the laptop, feeling more at ease in the dark.

My eyes were slow to adjust, but it still seemed unusually dark. Why weren't the streetlights on? Usually their light streamed into my room so that I had to sleep with the covers over my head. An odd sensation of vertigo took hold. The dizziness in my head teased the queasiness in my gut. I stumbled from my room and into the restroom. I flicked on the light and lifted the toilet lid just in time. Heaving and heaving, I emptied the contents of my stomach. My throat and nose burned from all the soda I'd consumed before.

The tiny bathroom left little space to sit on the floor, much less stretch out my legs. I stood and rinsed my face with cold water. When the vertigo passed, I leaned over the sink, cupping my hands beneath the water. I swished the sour taste from my mouth. Frank was right. Not something I wanted to taste or smell again.

I turned off the light before making my way to the living room. Those windows had mini blinds that could be closed tight.

Frank would have a field day with my paranoia. I smiled to think of how he'd tease me when he got home and found me in the dark. From the sound of it, he was already in the front yard, chaining up his bicycle.

I pulled the blinds back to peer outside. The police car was gone.

Something clanged against the metal side of the trailer. I lost my balance and knocked over a pile of Frank's books, landing on the sofa.

Another clang and then a heavy thud sent me scuttling back to the bedroom to get the gun. The trailer had only one entrance, both a good and a bad thing. No one could sneak in a back way, but I couldn't escape either. If I exited through the front door, I'd be on full display and less safe than if I just stayed inside.

Before I could formulate my next move, a huge thud rocked the trailer.

“You're going to pay, you son of a bitch.” Frank's booming voice overshadowed another male voice, a weaker one that kept shouting,
“Stop! Stop!”

I ran through the dark trailer, not caring as I bumped into the kitchen counters. I fumbled with the lock on the front door with one hand. The other gripped Frank's gun.

Once outside, I aimed at the two men rolling on the ground. “I swear to God I'll shoot!”

I recognized the broad-shouldered man on top as Frank. He rolled away from the scuffle at the sound of my voice. The man who had been on the bottom curled into a ball.

“Put down the gun, Arlie! Put it down.
Now!”
Frank approached the figure on the ground but with outstretched arms.

“Aw, man, I'm so sorry,” he said. “I didn't recognize you.” He put his arm around the other man and lifted him to his feet. Even in the darkness, I could make out that the man was considerably smaller than Frank.

“What's going on?” I cried out.

“It's your friend from choir.”

Frank helped Cody to the sofa in the trailer's living room, then went into the kitchen to fill a plastic freezer bag with ice.

“Where are you hurt?” I helped Cody pull off his hooded sweatshirt. He winced as the shirt came over his head.

“I'm okay, really.”

I held his chin tentatively, moving his face from side to side. No bruises there. I flashed back to the times when Mom came back to the motel room after a long night, her face or arms darkened by someone obviously stronger than her.

“You don't seem okay,” I said, shaking off the memory. “What hurts?”

“Frank got in a few good punches to my rib cage and shoulder, but I covered my head. I'm a born fighter.” Cody's lightheartedness did nothing to assuage Frank, who grimaced with remorse.

“I thought you were Arlie's stepfather.” Frank rubbed his forehead. “It was so dark, and you were creeping along the side of the trailer.”

“My brother was running a quick errand on this side of town so I asked him to drop me off. I'm sorry. I tried texting Arlie, but she didn't answer.”

Cody took my hand. The move wasn't lost on Frank. His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head to one side.

I shook my head and mouthed, “Not now.”

“I used the side of the trailer to guide me to the front door,” Cody continued. “I remembered Arlie saying the ground near the construction site was uneven. I didn't want to fall and hurt myself.”

I chuckled at the irony.

“We should take you to the ER,” Frank said.

“I'll be fine, Mr. Betts. Really.”

“It's Frank. Just Frank. We should be on a first-name basis considering I just tried to break all your ribs.”

My uncle allowed himself a small smile before becoming serious again. “I'm putting up motion-detecting lights tomorrow morning first thing. And I'm going to give the city hell about the streetlights being out.”

I nodded my head toward the door, hoping Frank would leave us alone for a bit.

He narrowed his eyes once again, but complied with my pantomimed request. “I dropped a bag of tacos outside when I lunged for Cody. I'm going to go find my supper before the raccoons do.”

As soon as the door closed, I hugged Cody.

“Hey, watch the shoulder,” he said. “Your uncle should've been a MMA fighter. I think he kicked me a few times.”

“Yeah, that stumpy physique was made for mixed martial arts.”

I scanned Cody's body again. He was gritting his teeth. “You're not fine. I can tell.”

“I will be … in a few days.” He extended his left arm and moved it in a large circle. His shoulder popped and he winced through his smile.

“It's not funny.” I placed the bag of ice on his shoulder.

“You can't blame Frank. It was an honest mistake, considering how worried you are about your stepfather being in town.”

“Worried is an understatement.” We both sank into the back of the sofa. I ran my hand through his hair and then let it rest on his uninjured shoulder. “Now he'll never leave my side. I'm going to be a prisoner in this place.”

“Did you really have a gun?”

“Yes. And I could've killed you.” My body shook, trying to release the earlier adrenaline overload.

Cody leaned toward me so that I met his lips. I shuddered when he brushed them against my chin and nose. He pressed his forehead against mine and cupped my face in his hands.

“I don't like that you have a gun,” he said. “There are other ways for you to be safe.”

“I feel safe with you.”

“A blind guy doesn't offer much protection.”

I pulled away, taking his hands in mine.

“My
heart
feels safe with you,” I said.

A loud rap on the door interrupted our next kiss. Frank walked inside, the crumpled taco bag in one hand. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Your brother's waiting outside. I told him what happened. He was good enough not to kick my ass for hurting his little brother.”

“I'll walk him to the car,” I said.

“Sit tight. I got this.” Frank helped Cody from the sofa.

“I'll see you in school tomorrow?” he asked, looking back in my direction.

“Yes. See you then.”

As instructed, I sat still, waiting for Frank. If I played the events of the day over in my mind one more time, I'd go certifiably crazy. I longed for a bathtub filled to the rim with scalding hot water. When I lived with Mom in the motel, I'd often submerge myself so my ears would be underwater, canceling out any noise from the TV or the neighboring rooms. The trailer didn't have a tub—just a dark, cramped shower that Frank could barely turn around in. Maybe I could stay over at Mo's soon and use her parents' huge sunken tub. I missed those times we'd play in the tub until the bathwater went cold or ended up all over the floor.

“Wake up, Arlie.”

Frank walked in to find me with my eyes closed, daydreaming of an escape from our inevitable talk.

“I'm resting my eyes. Everything okay?”

He sloughed off his plaid shirt and handed it to me. “Here, put this on. You're half naked.”

“My sports bra has more fabric than a bikini top.”

“It's not appropriate attire for when that kid is here.”

Frank sat down next to me. His T-shirt rode up his belly so that he had to keep pulling it down.

“Cody's blind. And I wasn't exactly expecting company,” I said.

“He can still use his hands.”

“Jesus, Frank. Why are you so down on Cody?” I pulled his shirt tighter and crossed my arms. “What has he done to upset you?”