The Peach Keeper (12 page)

And she would never, ever admit, not even to herself, that she kind of liked it.

She stopped in front of the group, the Jeep’s high beams on. She saw Paxton jerk her arm away from one of the men trying to touch her, then walk forward, only to be blocked by the other man.

Willa reached into her bag for her pepper spray and opened the door.

“Hi, Paxton,” she said. Her heart was racing, and she could feel the adrenaline surge. “What are you doing here?”

The men turned to her. Paxton’s head jerked up, and Willa saw it, her fear, primal. She was the weak animal surrounded by predators.
Help me
.

“Look, a mini one. We got enough for a real party now,” the man holding Paxton’s arm said. He had abuse written all over him. It had happened to him. He had delivered it. It was so much a part of his psyche that he couldn’t look at another person and not imagine what they would look like with bruises. Willa felt it, the way he looked at her neck and the thin skin along her cheekbones.

“Why don’t you let go of her? I’m pretty sure she wants to leave,” Willa said. Her hand was already throbbing from clenching the can of pepper spray. She was hyperaware of everything around her, every small sound, every change in the air.

Robbie snickered. He’d always been the boy to hang out with the rough bunch at school, not really one of them but close enough. And like most people, he’d figured close enough was better than not fitting in at all. “Come on, Willa, how often do we get a drunk prom queen around here? And she sent me a love letter in high school. She denied it and made everyone laugh at me, but she sent it to me. Admit it, Paxton.”

“Robbie, for God’s sake, I sent you that letter,” Willa said. “I was the Joker. That’s the kind of stupid thing I did back then. She didn’t have anything to do with it.”

He gave her a confused look.

Willa left them and marched to the convenience store’s door and called inside, “Call 911.”

The clerk looked up from his magazine, then looked back down, ignoring her.

“That’s my brother,” the second man said. “He ain’t calling no one.”

Willa slowly backed up. She knew she could run to her Jeep and call 911 and wait with her doors locked. But that would leave Paxton to fend for herself, and the last thing any woman wanted in this kind of situation was to look around and see all the people who could help her doing nothing. Paxton seemed to know what she was thinking. She was trying to meet her eyes, trying to keep Willa from looking away.
Don’t leave me
.

“Paxton, set down your bags,” Willa finally said.

“But …”

“Just do it. Let’s take a ride in my Jeep, okay?”

“I have my car.”

“I know. But let’s go in my Jeep.” She made a small gesture with her hand, and Paxton’s eyes went to the can of pepper spray. Paxton dropped her bags to the concrete. The wine bottles smashed.

“She ain’t going nowhere,” the man holding her arm said. “Except maybe behind the building for a little fun.”

Willa took a deep breath, then lifted the can and aimed. This was her last course of action, but she didn’t hesitate. Plus, she’d spray-painted enough things in her misspent youth to have pretty good aim. She got the first man in the face. The second man moved, and she had to chase him to the door before she got him. Once she did, she lunged over and grabbed Paxton’s arm, dropping her spray in the process.

They were almost to the Jeep when Robbie stepped in front of them. The first man was coughing and rubbing his eyes, making it worse, making his anger rise. He yelled at Robbie to grab the bitches. The second man had run into the store to get the clerk, who was now coming toward the doors. Willa didn’t have anything to defend them with now.

“Was the letter really a Joker prank?” he asked.

“Yes,”
Willa said.

“Oh. Sorry, Paxton.”

Paxton was holding on to Willa now with a force that was going to leave marks.

Robbie dropped to his knees and covered his face, screaming as if he, too, had been maced. Willa had no idea what he was doing until he took a break from his theatrics to say, “Go, goddamnit.”

And that’s exactly what they did.

Willa jumped behind the wheel, and Paxton fell into the passenger seat. Willa was trembling so much she had trouble putting the Jeep in reverse. After she had set up particularly big pranks at school, which had sometimes taken all night, she remembered crawling back into bed and shaking like this. It hadn’t felt bad, more like a thaw. When she finally got the Jeep in gear, Paxton nearly fell out from the speed with which Willa backed out of the parking lot. She had to grab a handful of Paxton’s dress to keep her inside.

Once they were on the road, a long stretch that ran parallel to the highway, Paxton was finally able to sit upright. The wind from the open top of the Jeep made their hair fly, and the only sound was the flapping of their clothing, like sheets on a line. Willa kept checking her rearview mirror, relaxing only when a couple of miles had passed and she realized they weren’t being followed.

Neither of them said anything for a very long time.

Finally, Paxton asked, “Do you have any tissues?”

Willa turned to her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her nose was running. “I have some paper napkins in the glove compartment.”

Paxton fumbled around until she found the napkins. “I’m not crying,” she said.

“Okay.”

“No, really, I’m not. I got hit by some of the pepper spray.”

“Oh,” Willa said. “Sorry about that. I thought my aim was better.”

Paxton snorted, which made Willa smile.

“Where are we going?” Paxton asked, blowing her nose as they reached the town proper.

“To your house.”

That had an immediate reaction. “No, don’t take me home!” Paxton said loudly. “Let me out right now.” She started fumbling with the door handle.

Willa had to pull over because she was afraid Paxton was going to try to leap out of the Jeep while it was still moving. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she could finally see what a problem she had. She had drunk Paxton Osgood in her car, and she had absolutely no idea what to do with her. “Where do you want me to take you, then?” she asked. They were in front of a Tudor-style house in Paxton’s neighborhood. A dog barked from somewhere inside. “Kirsty Lemon’s?”

Paxton leaned her head back against the seat. “God, no. She’d love this.”

“I thought you two were friends.”

“Whatever that means,” Paxton said, which surprised Willa. Society ladies always seemed so hand-in-glove, giving looks to one another that only they could interpret, sharing secrets.

“Sebastian’s?”

Paxton seemed to think about that. She finally said softly, “No.”

That left only one place. Great. Willa put the Jeep in gear and made a U-turn. “What were you doing at the Gas Me Up at this hour, anyway?” she said as she drove.

“It was the only place I could get alcohol at this time of night and no one would see me,” Paxton said as she rubbed her eyes. “God, that spray was strong, and I only got a little bit of it. I hope they feel it for days.”

“No one in their right mind goes there after dark, not even college kids.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” Paxton said defensively. “It’s the first time I’ve been there.”

“Why tonight?”

“Because my life is crap and I needed alcohol.”

Paxton Osgood’s life was crap. Right. “You didn’t have any alcohol in your house?”

“I drank it all,” she said.

“In a house the size of Hickory Cottage?”

“I drank all the liquor in
my
house. The pool house. And there was no way I could go to my parents’ house for more. My mother would’ve given me hell. She always gives me hell. You know who else gives me hell? The Women’s Society Club. One skeleton found at the Madam, and suddenly they think the whole project is a wash. As if they don’t have tons of skeletons in their closets. If you only knew.” Paxton turned in her seat and Willa could feel her staring at her. “And you gave me hell, too. In high school.”

“Only once,” Willa pointed out.

“I can’t believe it was you who wrote that note to Robbie Roberts.”

“I’m sorry.” Willa pulled to the curb and cut the engine. “I really am.”

“I remember when I saw that note. You copied my handwriting so well I thought at first I
had
written it. You could’ve gone into forgery.”

Willa climbed out and said, “Yes, that would have made my dad very proud.”

Paxton looked around, finally realizing they’d come to a stop. “Where are we?”

“This is my house. Come on.”

“You’re going to let me stay at your house?”

“The Ritz is too far to drive to.”

Paxton wasn’t steady on her feet, so Willa held her elbow and led her up the steps. She unlocked the door and led Paxton to the couch, then left the room and returned with a pillow and a blanket.

Paxton took off her shoes and propped the pillow up on the couch. “This is a great couch.”

“I’m thinking of calling it the Osgood Memorial Couch. Your brother slept on it, too.” Willa left again, this time to the kitchen, where she wet a dishcloth with cold water. She brought it out and handed it to Paxton.

“My brother likes you, you know,” Paxton said, lying back and putting the cool cloth over her swollen eyes. “Make him stay.”

Willa flipped out the blanket and covered Paxton. “I’m not involved with your brother.”

“You will be. You know why? Because that’s what’s supposed to happen. That’s the fairy tale. You meet, you fall in love, you kiss, and
neither of you is revolted by it
. You get married and have kids and live happily ever after.”

“The not-being-revolted part is a nice touch,” Willa said.

“It comes from experience. I’m in love with Sebastian Rogers. But he’s not in love with me.”

Willa probably should have been surprised, but she wasn’t. She locked the door and turned out the light. When things went dark, she stood there for a moment. “Your life isn’t nearly as glamorous as I thought it was,” she said into the darkness.

“What tipped you off? The drunk run to the Gas Me Up, or admitting that I’m in love with a man who might be gay?”

Despite her tone, Willa got the feeling this was more serious than Paxton was letting on. “It’s a tie,” Willa said, which made Paxton laugh a little. She was too used to people judging her, Willa realized.

Then something Willa never thought would happen suddenly did.

She actually felt sorry for Paxton Osgood.

This was enough revelation for one night. Exhausted, Willa left the living room and headed upstairs to her bedroom.

“Thank you, Willa,” Paxton called after her.

“You’re welcome, Paxton.”

SEVEN
Relativity

P
axton slowly opened her eyes, which took effort. Her lashes seemed to be glued together.

She sat up on her elbows, a small movement that actually felt like being slammed against a wall. She groaned but powered through it and sat all the way up.

She looked around. She was in a small house filled with dated furniture, except for the insanely soft gray couch she was lying on. She was facing a picture window, and there was a black-and-yellow bird sitting on the sill, staring inside. She stared back at it, confused and strangely mesmerized. A shrill ringing sound suddenly made her jump and, startled by her movements, the bird flew off.

She put her hands to her head. Good God, what was that noise?

She heard footsteps and turned to see Willa Jackson stumble into the room wearing cotton shorts and a tank top, both twisted from sleep. Her short hair was poofy, like a cloud around her face.

Paxton had often thought that all Willa needed was a white muslin nightgown, a big bow in her hair, and a porcelain doll clutched to her chest, and she would look exactly like one of those pale-eyed, intense children in very old photos. Paxton had never felt very comfortable around her.

“I thought I turned off your phone last night when it wouldn’t stop ringing. Is it possessed?” Willa said, lunging for Paxton’s cellphone, which Paxton just now realized was on the end table beside her.

Willa flipped open the phone and said, “Hello?” She paused. “I’m Willa. Who are you?” Willa’s hand, which had been over her eyes as if to block out the light from the window, suddenly dropped. “Oh.” She handed the phone to Paxton. “It’s for you.”

Paxton took it, trying not to make any sudden movements for fear her head might fall off. “Of course it’s for me. It’s my phone.”

Willa frowned and turned and left the room. Someone wasn’t a morning person.

“Hello?” Paxton said into the phone.

“I’m in the pool house, and you’re not. Where are you?” It was Colin.

She looked around. “I’m not sure. I think I’m at Willa Jackson’s house.”

“That would explain her answering your phone. What are you doing there?” Colin asked.

It was all coming back to her. And she wasn’t about to share it with him, with anyone. God, if it got out what a
fool
she’d made of herself …

“Have you been there all night?”