Page 20 of Crawl
A silvered-gold watch sits on his wrist to emphasize his status, his lips are smooth and curved, the stubble on his jaw neatly trimmed. Everything about him refined. And yet his hands are rough, like dry, bumpy concrete, and I know that his stomach is covered in puffy pink scars. He isn’t just a billionaire who develops real estate and businesses, and he isn’t simply a hobbyist who does his own remodeling. But no matter how I rearrange it in my head, I can’t figure it out. I don’t even know if he’s truly a recluse, or if that’s a ruse to manipulate people into doing what he wants.
Either way, I don’t trust him.
He opens the passenger side of his sleek, black imported sports car, then drives us to downtown Key West.
“Your dad never taught you how to use tools?” he asks.
I wrinkle my nose. He’s asking me aboutthis,now? Why does he ask so many questions?
“My dad died before I was born,” I say.
“Stepdad? Brother? Boyfriend?”
Maybe he’s searching to see if I have anyone who will protect me from him.
“They didn’t teach me stuff like this,” I say.
“Then what did they teach you?”
I let out a breath, then face the window. “I don’t know.”
He parks the car on the street and pays the meter; I guess even a billionaire has to follow some rules. He motions at the shop.Mike’s Home & Supply Co.is written in faded red letters across the front of the building. An older man in a baseball cap whistles as we enter.
“Look at you,” he says to Cash. “Fancyandwith a lady.”
I roll my eyes. We’re technically here together, but we arenottogether. Another person, a clerk behind the register, gawks at us like we’re a freak show.
“Where you going tonight with this lil’ thing, bud?” the older man asks.Bud?This man is calling Cash, a real estate developer billionaire, ‘bud’?
How does he even know Cash?
“This is Remedy, my newest personal assistant,” Cash says, putting a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. And there’s no mistaking it then; he’s only introducing me, which means heknowsthese people. “Her door broke off the hinges. Figured I’d teach her how to fix it herself.”
“Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime,” the owner says, his voice wistful, like he says that a lot. “You know where to go.”
We find the tools we need: a couple of new hinges and screws, though Cash implies that I may need a new door too. Finally, we make it to the front of the store. I still don’t understand why Cash isinsistingthat we fix it together. Maybe it’s an excuse to come inside my house. A twinge of nerves spikes through me, but I push it down. We’re not thereyet.
“How’s the move going?” the clerk asks as he scans the items. Cash stares at the man evenly, the tendons in his neck taut, as if the cashier has said the exact wrong thing.
Moving?
“Moving takes time,” Cash says with a harsh layer to his tone, a threat simmering below the surface. The cashier sinks down, his eyes on the floor. He caught that tone too.
But something doesn’t feel right. Is Cash really a recluse if he knows everyone at this hardware store, even the cashier?
As the cashier bags our items, I whisper to Cash: “I thought you didn’t go out.”
“I told you,” he says. “I’ve been breaking those habits. Your friend didn’t notice.”
I tighten my fists at my sides. Jenna may be timid, but she’s observant, and Cash is full of shit. But the door chimes and a customer enters: light brown hair and blue eyes fill the entrance, sunlight flashing around him. My heart leaps into my chest and every muscle in my body tenses with nerves.
He looks like my stepdad.
Then the man pivots to the side, revealing the differences. His nose is way bigger than my stepdad’s. I exhale, but my fingers twitch at my sides, trying to get rid of the nerves. Maybe Brody is in town. The last time I saw him, he looked even more like his dad.
But Brody doesn’t live in Key West anymore. And besides, the customer is probably too old to be Brody.
“What’s wrong?” Cash asks. The customer studies different displays on the shelves. He’s got sloping shoulders like my stepdad, the same soft hands. I know it’snothim, but that nervous sensation flutters in my chest. I finally got used to his absence, and now, he’s invading my life again. The customer disappears down the tall aisles, but I still stare at that empty spot like I can see his ghost.
