Page 58 of American Hellhound
“Well probably for the best – hey! Aw, damn it. Ghost!”
Whatever else Collier said was drowned out by the sound of a passing car as Ghost charged across the street.
~*~
On Wednesdays, like today, Maggie had her Young Knoxville meetings. It was a club that met once a week, an off-campus extracurricular that kids were “encouraged” to attend by their parents. In Maggie’s case, encouragement had begun at age twelve, when she’d been driven to the church rec center, hustled into a chair, and told that her future was counting on her participation. It was the sort of thing that looked good on college applications: a group of young, ambitious Knoxville social elite tackling charitable projects on their own initiative.
Maggie thought the charitable causes were worthwhile. But she didn’t appreciate the pomp and posturing it required to put them together.
Also, being a part of something like this since age twelve didn’t exactly breed contentment.
Every Wednesday, she took the bus to the center of downtown and walked the quarter-mile to the Methodist church, where her dad always picked her up at exactly six.
Today, because life just wanted to fuck with her lately, she’d stepped off the bus to the sound of, “Maggie, hold on,” only to find that Vince had followed her.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said as they headed up the sidewalk. She didn’t look at him, not wanting to encourage this line of discussion. “For earlier.” He made an aborted hand movement she caught from the corner of her eye, like he’d started to reach for her.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
“No, but…you’re pissed at me. And I don’t…I don’t want that.”
You smell like virgin. Cody’s words came back to her, and she shuddered.
Vince noticed. “Oh, are you cold? Here, you can have my jack–”
“No, it’s fine.”
“No, I can–”
“Mags,” a voice called from the street, and she froze.Ghost. She was a little bit ashamed that she knew him by voice alone, and more ashamed that it mattered to her.
She lifted her head and saw him step up onto the sidewalk and out of traffic. Somehow, in the last few days, she’d forgotten howgoodhe looked. His dark hair was windblown, and he needed to shave, a dark shadow of stubble along his strong jaw. He was wearing a black thermal Henley under his cut and a battered leather motorcycle jacket, broke-down jeans and boots. He could have stepped out of a vintage-inspired Calvin Klein ad, but the patches on his cut told a different story. A more sinister one.
She tried to swallow and found her throat was too dry. She wasn’t going to greet him, not after the way he’d left things. The ball was in his court, and she intended for it to stay there.
Beside her, Vince made an involuntary sound of alarm in his throat, taking a step closer to her.
“Where you off to?” Ghost asked. When he stepped in front of her, he eclipsed the afternoon sunlight that beamed into her eyes. That felt significant for some reason.
Her pulse had gone from a steady thump to a wild flutter. But she forced a cool mask in place and shrugged. “Wherever sixteen-year-olds go.”
His mouth tugged down hard in the corners. “That’s not how I meant it,” he said, and she wondered if he meant now, or the other night, when he’d run away from her.
The weight of her backpack seemed to intensify; she was hyperaware of the straps cutting into her shoulders, reinforcing their age difference.
“Look,” she started, and he stepped in closer. She smelled beer; he’d been in Bell Bar, obviously. In the middle of the day. God, he was so much trouble.
Vince stepped in front of her, his shoulder trying to cover her face, and he tipped his head back to look up at Ghost and demand, “Who are you?”
Ghost’s gaze shifted to Vince in a slow, deliberate way, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Maggie couldn’t see his eyes, but she couldfeelthe heat in them. It wasn’t the sort of look anyone would want to be on the receiving end of, but Vince, social idiot that he was, stood up straight and stared back.
Maggie put a hand on Vince’s shoulder. “Why don’t I catch up with you tomorrow at school?” she suggested. “We’ll talk then.”
But he didn’t budge. “Maggie, do you know this guy?”
Which was the wrong thing to say.
Ghost smiled. All teeth and cruel intent, more of a snarl. His laugh sounded like a growl. “Better than she knows you, I’m betting.”
