Page 8 of Vicious Sentiments

“My mom’s, Eddie. Please,” Julian replies and ushers me into the back seat.

His mom’s? I’m nowhere near presentable. I make a noise in the back of my throat, and Julian chuckles.

“It’s fine.” He slips in beside me and Eddie shuts the door.

“I…” I start but don’t know what to say. It’s not like we’re in a… a relationship and I’m meeting the parents, but I feel grossly under-dressed. I want to say this, but there is no recourse because I don’thave any clothes to change into anyway.

“Yes?” Julian prompts, leaning against the passenger door, an amused smile playing at the edge of his mouth.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I think it’s the sensible thing to do.” He shrugs lightly.

I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean so I let my hair fall forward and look away. None of this has felt like a mistake up until this moment. Leaving my life to go with a stranger across the country? Not an issue. Witnessing said stranger pull out a gun and do a suspicious transaction? No problem. Meeting his mom? I’m shaking.

I haven’t had many experiences with women, unless you include Death. My mom left before I could make memories, and girls at school seemed to hate me. What if Julian’s mom hates me? Will she force me to a shelter? Send me back home? I’d honestly prefer to be homeless. Whatever sense of safety Julian has bloomed in me is something I’m not letting go of. I won’t go back home and lose it. Surely, I can find my way.

Eddie has been driving for fifteen minutes when Julian rolls his tinted window down. The salty air bursts in bringing warmth and light.

“Do you like the beach, Hailey?” he asks.

“I’ve never been to the beach.”

“You’ve never…” He turns to look at me and frowns. “Well, then you won’t get sick of it so soon. Have a look.”

He motions me towards his window and I lean over him slightly to see but all I can make out is the shoulder and guard rails of the freeway.

As if noticing this, Julian wraps an arm around my lower back and pulls me closer. I’m practically in his lap when he releases me.

“See now?” he asks. I can feel his breath on my cheek and it takeseverything in me to look out at the ocean and not turn to face him. If I did, our lips would brush and I don’t think I should want that. Why do I? And what ifhewouldn’t want that?

My heart is beating fast as the freeway zips past my vision and I try to calm down. I just must be tired and overwhelmed. The past few days have been a lot. I’m not thinking clearly.

I lean back into my seat, careful not to touch him any more than I already have. What if I am having some sort of breakdown? A person would have to be crazy to do what I’ve done. Maybe I should be more concerned. What did he trade the men at the port?

“Do you sell drugs?” I blurt, embarrassed but needing to know.

Julian smirks and rolls the window up. “Do I look like I sell drugs?” He turns to face me, and I’m relieved that he looks amused instead of angry.

I don’t answer because I’m not sure. Of course, he doesn’t look like any of the dealers in Bridgerock but he could be a big shot, part of a cartel or something.

“No, I don’t sell drugs.” He concedes, grinning. There is a lilt in his voice and I’m reminded of the game Guess Who.

“Do you… smuggle body organs?” I ask more bravely, encouraged by his amusement.

“No, I don’t smuggle organs.” His lip is twitching.

“Are you a poacher?” I imagine priceless marine life or ivory tusks.

“Do I—” He glances down theatrically at his shirt and pants. “Do I look like a poacher?”

Feeling a little manic, I can’t help but laugh. “No, but I’m out of ideas.”

“You’re out? What about a lawyer or a doctor?” he chides. “Do I honestly come off so sinister? I’m going to have to work on my appearance if I’m to hide my devious lines of work.”

I laugh again.

“You find this funny?” He’s smiling. “Accusing a nice gentleman of being an organ thief? I thought I looked like a Bitcoin billionaire or a tech prodigy.”

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