Hale Maree (5 page)

“
This is messed up,” I
say.

“
Which part?” He finally
glances over at me. I shrug.

“
Every part,” I say, and his
lips turn up in an understanding grin. He steers the truck off the
road and onto a twisting drive. I know the one. It leads to a park
with a track running around the brim of it, a playground on one
side, and just grass in the middle so kids can play football or
soccer. In the dark, the trees lining the drive look like crowds of
warlock giants, waving wands and casting spells as we drive past
them. He drives us up to the parking lot near the playground and
puts the truck in park. He turns in his seat to face me, resting
his back on the door.

“
Tell me about yourself,” he
says. I stare at him blankly. Is this his idea of a date? An
interview? I look out the front window.

“
I’m really sorry all this
happened, Oscar, but I think this stuff about getting married is
absolutely nuts. Don’t you?”

“
No,” he says. I swallow.
The truck suddenly seems too small and the drive here too far. My
hands pour sweat.

“
I think you should take me
home.”

“
No, I can’t,” he says. “I
need to get to know you, Hale. This situation is out of control,
but it’s definitely happening, and I want to know who you are
before it does.”

I put my hand on the door latch and quickly
flip the door open, in case he tries to lock me in. I jump out and
run. I hear his door open too. My ears pound as I sprint across the
track and onto the grass. I glance behind me. Oscar’s right on my
heels. He grabs me and I trip. We tumble down onto the grass
together.

The adrenaline forces me back up, but Oscar
grabs my ankle.

I fall and he jumps on top of me this time,
a leg on either side of my ribs, and one hand holding both of mine,
his other hand clamped over my mouth. He lowers his chest onto mine
and I feel all his muscles tensed against me, trying to hold me
down and keep my mouth shut, all at once. I try to land a kick,
bite him, and push. Nothing works. Oscar is fast and strong and
athletic, and I’ve spent way too much time being a solitary
bookworm.

“
Hale!” he says in my ear.
“Listen to me! I’m not trying to hurt you or freak you out, but
somebody’s going to hear!”

“
Good!” My reply is muffled
through his hand.

“
Not good,” he whispers
back. “If I land in jail, what do you think would happen to your
father?”

I go limp. This is how morons get subdued.
That, and because I’ve got an out-of-shape body that is sucking
wind through Oscar’s fingers, and blowing out snot and air on the
edge of his hand. He leans his head down to whisper in my ear
again. I feel his chest, his arms, and his guy parts, all pressed
against me.

“
Listen, I know what
happened,” he says. “I know why we have to get married and if you
want me to tell you, I will, but it’s got to stay between us. I’ll
let go of your mouth, but you have to talk to me...not scream your
face off.”

“
Okay,” I muffle into his
hand, and he slides it slowly off my mouth. His nose and mine are
still too close. “Get off me.”

Oscar rolls off and sits beside me on the
grass. I sit up and fix my shirt.

“
So tell me,” I
say.

“
My girlfriend? Sophia?” he
says. “She was cheating on me. She was getting with someone from
her work. Rick Tatum. Stupid name, huh?” He shakes his head
miserably. He doesn’t need an answer. “He came looking for me and
found my dad instead, while my dad was having a drink with your
father. He didn’t realize my dad wasn’t me, so he must’ve been
looking for my truck. My dad was using it because his was in the
shop. Anyway, Tatum was waiting out back, by my truck. But our
fathers left the bar and went down the block to get cigarettes,
instead of going right home. They stopped off at another bar, and
then, when they came back to my truck, Tatum confronted them in the
parking lot.

“
Tatum said he was with
Sophia now, and that I needed to get out of the picture. Your dad
stepped in and Tatum threw down on him. Started really beating on
him. My father backed up my truck, trying to knock the guy away
from your dad. But it knocked Tatum on his head, and he hit
whatever it is that you shouldn’t hit.

“
But our dads didn’t know
Tatum died. They were in a hurry to get away from him and thought
he was just knocked out. That was bad enough. Considering my dad’s
business and professional reputation, even knocking the guy out
would’ve probably triggered a huge media scandal. It was reported
on the morning news that Tatum was dead. The reporters are saying
the guy died, and the cops are calling it a hit-and-run. They don’t
have any suspects yet, because the bar’s security cameras have been
busted for a long time, and there were no identifying tire marks or
anything. There’s not even a scratch on my truck either. Tatum
wasn’t even found until the bartenders went home, so no one knows
exactly when it happened. No one knows and no one ever can. Nobody,
but our fathers and us, Hale.”

Oscar, in the moonlit park, looks almost
iridescently pale. I’m sure I look the same. I remember my dad
walking in last night, the black eye, the way Otto shushed him.
They thought the guy was just knocked out. My dad got a lawn
service and a married daughter, not to tell. But now the guy’s
dead. I can see how things are not only not going to change, but
they just got a whole lot more serious.

“
So this guy, this Rick, he
was after you?” I say. Oscar nods. “Sophia was cheating on
you?”

“
It’s not such a nice name
after all,” Oscar says.

“
Why didn’t she just break
up with you?”

“
No idea,” Oscar
shrugs.

“
This can still come back on
you,” I say. “If the guy told anyone where he was going, or
Sophia...she would have to know.”

“
I don’t think she does,”
Oscar says. “She called me before I spoke to you tonight. She
wanted to know if we were still going to my dad’s beach house. We
were going to take a long weekend for Landon’s birthday
bash.”

“
Eww,” I say with a
wince.

“
But even if the guy told
anyone he was going to the bar to get me, I wasn’t there. And Modo,
the owner, is one of my dad’s friends. He wouldn’t say anything,
even if he knew something.”

“
What does your dad do
exactly?”

“
Investments. Financial
planning. He’s a Merlin in his field,” Oscar says. “You’ve never
heard of Otto Maree Investments?”

I shake my head. “I don’t have any
money.”

“
My dad’s been responsible
for the financial development of several Fortune 500 companies. The
media would kick into a frenzy just over the fact that my dad was
out drunk and there was any kind of altercation at the bar, but it
would be an absolute scandal if they knew he was responsible for
Tatum. It would total him out. Clients would run for the hills and
the business would hemorrhage. But a death? It doesn’t matter that
it was accidental, and it wouldn’t matter if it was provoked. The
possibility of a conviction would likely bankrupt my family...and
yours. If my dad goes under, it means yours probably would
too.”

“
Holy shit,” I say. Oscar
turns his eyes back to mine.

“
Hale,” he says. “I don’t
know you, but now you know everything I do. I trust you with it and
I want you to trust me too. I want to know you do. Our fathers
talked to me about what needs to happen and I think it’s the right
thing to do under the circumstances. I think that if we are
married, both sides have a lot to lose, so we’ll all make sure to
keep it together. So, I’m asking you, Hale. Will you show us that
we can trust you? Will you marry me?”

My brain is gaping as I stare at him.

“
Hell no,” I say, as I jump
to my feet.

#

I run like I’m being chased by a rapist with
a full can of mace. I don’t think my lungs have ever tolerated that
much running, but tonight, they seem to get that they shouldn’t let
me down.

Oscar shouts my name behind me, but, this
time, he doesn’t follow me. I brace to be tackled for the first
hundred feet and, when I’m not, I unfold and go at a full sprint,
darting into the trees.

I get that giving in might sound like a
great Godfather kind of deal to them, but the one part of the
equation they forgot is that I have everything to lose. I’m a
financial aid case right now, but I’ve always assumed I could land
a scholarship, get a student loan, and become a success story at
some point. I’ve never thought of my life as a slow decent down an
even darker toilet drain. All my plans have always been aimed at
hitting the glass ceiling with a titanium helmet. I want to
graduate, to live in a dorm, to date ten guys at once, and break up
and make up and, someday, marry a guy who I know loves me. I want
to marry someone I know.

When I finally hit the lights of a gas
station, I stop a pony-tailed guy who is exiting the store,
checking something on his phone as he sucks down a gallon-sized
slushy.

“’
Scuse me,” I pant. The
hippy guy looks up like I’m about to ruin his day. “I’m really
sorry to bother you, but can I use your phone? It’s
important.”

One edge of the hippy’s lip twitches up, as
he says, “No.”

“
C’mon,” I huff. “This is
serious. I’m trying to get away from...”

“
Forget it. I’m not giving
you my phone.” Hippy says, as Oscar’s truck pulls into the gas
station.

“
Dude! I need help!” I
shriek, grabbing for the hippy’s phone. He twists away and I end up
with my fingertips on his drink cup instead. I yank it from him,
but the lid pops, dousing me in cherry slushy just as Oscar rolls
up beside us. Oscar leans over and pops open the passenger side
door.

“
What the hell!” The hippy
shouts at me. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Oscar’s out of the truck. He rounds the
grill and wedges himself between the hippy and I.

“
Sorry about the slushy,
man,” Oscar says. He fishes out his wallet and hands the guy a
five-dollar bill. “No harm, no foul, okay?”

The hippy still frowns as he snatches the
bill out of Oscar’s hand and stalks away. Oscar turns back to me,
putting his hand on his open truck door.

“
Get in,” he says. “I’ll
take you home.”

I shake my head and Oscar groans.

“
If you don’t, I’m going to
follow you in my truck the whole way there,” he says. He wobbles
the door. “C’mon.”

Cherry slushy is dripping into my shoes. He
reaches into the back seat and pulls a towel out of a gym bag.

“
It’s clean,” he says. I
take it, wipe off, and slide into the passenger seat, defeated. He
closes the door and in seconds, he’s behind the wheel. He swings an
arm over my seat as he backs up the truck. It feels like he’s
putting his arm around me and I glance over, tracing his arm back
to his face. Without moving it, he shoots me a small grin and says,
“By the way, I forgive you.”

I scowl. “For what?”

“
For that moment when you
thought I was just like everyone else.”

#

He puts the heat on, so the slushy will dry,
but rolls down the windows too, because it’s June and, technically,
too warm to be running the heater. The breeze that comes in is
cool, but the warm air from the vents blows right up the legs of my
shorts. I finally reach over and turn off the heat.

“
Is it making you sticky?”
he asks. I squint at his profile, thinking of about fifty ways to
tell him what a douchebag he is, when he looks back with such a
sincere question peaking his brow that I realize
I’m
being the
douchebag.

“
Cherry slushy will do
that,” I say. My cheeks burn as if I’ve just laid my face on a
stove burner. He turns on the music, so we don’t have to talk, and
I’m taken off guard at how I’m a little bit touched by how gracious
he is. I steal another look at his profile. It’s frustrating too,
that his looks leave little to complain about. He’s textbook
tall-dark-and-handsome, right out of a department store box. I can
tell from the way his muscles flex, as he steps on the brake and
moves the wheel, that this is a boy who does his push ups. I’m sure
any girl would be happy to be sticky in his truck. At least, that’s
how I try to explain away the sparks shooting down so low in my
belly. I think a blind chick couldn’t help being a little turned on
by how Oscar looks. It doesn’t overrule the fact that I’m still
freaked out by the whole marriage proposal thing, but I can’t help
how a glance at his face numbs it a tiny bit. Or, how the numb hits
the exact place that makes me forget why I’m here, and what Oscar
really wants from me.

“
How old are you, Hale?” His
voice startles me as he turns down the radio.

“
Eighteen.”

“
Do you have a boyfriend
right now?”

“
No.”

“
Hard to believe,” he
murmurs. “How long has it been?”

The way he asks, the douchebag thoughts come
streaming back to me. “Since what?” His question mark brows shoot
up again. “Since you’ve had a boyfriend.”

“
Oh, a while,” I say. I
don’t want to tell him that it’s been
never.
My dad’s not just an
alcoholic, but a racist too, and I pretty much go to school with
99% not-my-race boys. I’ve been kissed a couple times, but there
was never anyone that I wanted to go out with so badly that I’d
risk my father’s wrath. Sher’s my only friend at school, and she’s
not that successful in the guy department either. Being two skinny,
little white girls in a school full of curvy, chocolate goddesses
who guard their men closely, we’ve learned to keep our heads down
and stay off the radar. It hasn’t left me with good
odds.