Page 1 of Blake
1
Daisy
“Come on, Daisy.” Billy-Bob slides up behind me. I don’t have to turn around to know he’s looking at my ass. “We could go down to the lake. Sit there a while. Have some fun. Listen to some music and get to know each other better.”
“Gee-Whizz, Billy-Bob.” I turn fast and slam the pile of invoices down on the desk beside me. “That sounds great. Except, you know… I’d rather pull my toenails out with a pair of pliers than be stuck sitting in your stinking car next to you.”
“When you gonna get it through your head, baby girl?” He takes a step closer. “We’re meant for each other. It’s written in the stars.”
“Written in the stars?” I scoff. “You can barely read a comic book, let alone the solar system. Now get the heck out of here. You’re stinking up my office with that nasty, cheap cologne, and I’m scared if I look at your face any longer I might feel ill and have to skip dinner.”
“That’s really funny, Daisy.” He takes another step closer. This time his hands are balled into fists. His jaw is so tense I can see the muscles contracting into little golf balls on the side of his face. A bright blue vein bulges on his forehead. I’ve never seen him like this. All of a sudden I’m very aware that there’s nobody else around. “I like a girl with a sense of humor. I like a girl who plays hard to get, too. Just make sure you don’t overstep the mark, sweety pie. I’ve been real nice about this so far, but I’ve told you how the story ends.”
“The story ends how I say it ends,” I tell him, but this time my voice isn’t so confident. I can practically feel the rage coming off him. It’s like I’m in a cage with a bull and all my clothes are bright red, and he’s stomping his feet around and blowing smoke out his nose, and the whole time he’s looking at me like he’s getting ready to charge.
There’s a big ugly paperweight on the desk in the shape of a tractor. It’s something my Pop picked up at a junk sale years ago. I’ve always told him how much I hate it. Begged him to throw it away. But there’s something about the ugly, green hunk of metal that he seems to have formed a connection with.
I steal a glance at it. Suddenly very happy my dad never took my advice and threw it in the trash.
It’s about three feet away. Not too far. Maybe a second to jump across the desk and pick it up and another second to spin around and threaten to hit Billy-Bob with it. But will I get there in time?
He’s only a couple of feet away. And, even though he’s dumb as a sack of rocks, with the personality of an outhouse, doesn’t mean he isn’t young and strong and quick and able to grab me and stop me from getting the upper hand.
I bite my lip. Trying to figure out a way to deescalate the situation. A way to buy me some time. Or better yet, get him the hell out of here.
“About this trip to the lake,” I say. “Why’d we have to go all the way out there? What’s wrong with a meal at a restaurant?”
He looks at me suspiciously. “You really mean it? You’d go out with me? On a date?”
“I guess I could think about it,” I say, not wanting to pin myself down to any plan in particular. “But you’re gonna have to stop acting like a dirtbag. I’m not one of your pigs. You can’t just put a rope around my neck and lead me into a bush and have your way with me.”
He grabs my wrist and pulls me to him. My arm burns with pain. “You calling me a pigfucker?” he growls. His face is just inches away from mine. Fine blobs of spit land on my cheek and in my eye.
“Billy, you’re really hurting me.”
“Take it back,” he says, twisting my wrist around so I can’t pull away from him. “I’ve just about had enough of you, Daisy. Always acting like you’re better than me. Like I’m some lowlife piece of scum that you can just wipe off your shoe. It ain’t right, and I’ve had enough of it. It’s about time I taught you a lesson. Taught you to respect me. As a man. As a human. As your future husband. Now, I want you to get down on your knees, and beg me for forgiveness. And then, if you do a good job, maybe I’ll let you come along to the lake with me. Because I’m a generous man, and I’m kind. But a woman ought to know her place.”
“You take your hand off me right this second,” I hiss. “My pop finds out about this and you’re in trouble. You’ve gone too far, Billy-Bob. Too far.”
“I ain't scared of your pop,” he says, but there’ a look of doubt in his eyes as he says it. My pop’s as big as a bear, and just about as friendly as one too, especially if you get on his wrong side. There isn’t a man alive within a hundred miles who ain’t at least a bit scared of Pop. Not unless they're crazy.
I’m about to tell him he’s a goddamn liar and a weasel and a few four-letter words that are pretty colorful, but describe him perfectly, when the bell dings out by the front desk, and instead, I say. “I need to get that.”
He lets go of me. A look of relief washes over his face. I think the mention of my dad and the subtle reminder of what he might do to him, given the chance, took all the bite out of him. He looks happy to have found an out.
I rub my wrist. There’s already a bright red mark on it. The shape of a thumb, and three little circles next to it where his fingers were digging into my flesh.
Billy-Bob looks down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” he says. “I don’t know what came over me. I just get so worked up sometimes. You drive me crazy. You know much I care for you. I’d never hurt you. Not really.”
“Go,” I say, turning away so he can’t see my tears. “Just get the hell out of here and count yourself lucky I ain’t gonna tell Pop about it. You ain’t worth him going to jail over.”
2
Duke
I lift my hand up, ready to ding the bell for a second time, when a man bursts through a door behind the front desk. He’s red in the face. A wicked scowl deforming his lips.
He tries to stare me down, but I look straight back at him. Cracking my knuckles. Giving him an easy, lopsided grin. The make-my-day-punk smile I haven’t used since I was at college.
