Page 20 of Jagged Line Paradise

I scream, though it’s only muffled shouting, and sobs wrack my lungs, vibrating through my entire body. He drags me roughly from the truck, this time pulling me out after him through the driver’s side door. I let my body go limp, trying to make myself heavier in his hold, and I dig my heels into the ground as he drags me in long tugs and pulls. He hooks his arms beneath my armpits and pulls me like a dead body as I try to resist.

He’s already got the large roller door to the box slid open and he pulls me inside, into the dark box lit only by a few lamps. But I wish there weren’t any light at all in this space as I take in my new surroundings.

This box—this death box—it’s a place filled with nightmares my naïve mind could never have thought up on its own. This is a place of horror, and I think I’ve been brought here to die.

Chapter 6

Andrés

I STARTED THINKINGof Avalon as my girl somewhere between last night and now—I don’t know exactly when. All I know is that I’ve fucking claimed her and she’s mine.

I’m grateful Mack had some odd end jobs for me to do today—a couple of construction site clean-ups and a few pools to clean. The work he gives me is steady enough for now until I figure out what my next step is. Somehow, the thought of my next step in life links instantaneously to Lonnie and that makes my pulse kick-up.

I’ve worked with Robbie Mack for a couple of years, and he’s been good to me, making sure I have work when I need it, and I need it often. My dad’s ability to pay the actual fucking bills instead of drinking and fucking his money away is variable at best. It’s decent, fairly steady work, and I’m grateful for it. It’s a nice bonus that Mack lets me and his other crew guys come over to his air-conditioned house after we work and cool down with a drink.

He’s a pretty successful guy—single, running his own business at just thirty years old. He’s a contractor and a jack-of-all-trades, and he’s been a saint giving his guys free training and plenty of work. He’s inspirational and he gives good business advice. It’s a little odd that he doesn’t seem to care about settling down at his age, always talking about a girl he’s got coming over at night—there are so many different names that I don’t really bother to keep track anymore. But regardless of all that, he’s been good to me. I’ve learned a lot from him and he’s probably where I get my entrepreneurial spirit from.

He’s taught me that I don’t want to rely on someone else to write my paychecks for me—I want to write my own.

“So, you’re a one-woman guy now?” Mack asks, standing on the opposite side of his kitchen island from where I sit on a barstool. “Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that.” I grin, finishing the last of my ice water.

“No more girls under the bleachers?” His smirk is well-humored. Mack knows all about my exploits. He likes hearing my stories and tells me often that I remind him of a younger version of himself.

“Not unless the girl is Avalon.”

“Shit. I never thought I’d see the day. Well, I hope she’s worth it.” He lifts his blue ball cap and scratches his scalp before putting it back on his head. “You need to get cleaned up before you go?”

“Yeah, thanks, Mack.” I’m grateful he always lets me use his shower after work. Ours in the trailer is shit and I wouldn’t dare head off to see Lonnie tonight in my current state. I’ve got a fresh change of clothes in my duffel. I stand and take my glass around the kitchen island to put it in the sink.

“Do you have a picture of this chick?” He turns to face me, taking a sip.

I chuckle. “Shit. Yeah, I do, actually. I took this one last week,” I tell him, pulling out my phone—the one he paid for—from my back pocket and scroll through, “when we were out on the bluff.”

I turn my phone to show him the picture I took when she wasn’t even aware. She was in her ninth minute of ranting about how our art teacher wouldn’t know good art if it bit her in the ass—my words, not hers. I don’t really care about art, but Lonnie does—she’s passionate about it, talented as fuck, too.

I took this picture of her when she laughed so hard she snorted, which made her laugh harder, which made her snort again. I caught an image of her full, wide smile, her eyes sparkling with the hint of sunlight bouncing off the olive green. Her hair was blowing in the wind, whipping around her like wildfire and she could’ve been the sunset herself for the way she blended into the background of it.

My fucking sunshine.

Mack whistles. “She’s hot. I hope she doesn’t burn you.”

I laugh. “No, shit. I don’t wanna screw this up with her.”

“Nah, you’ll be all right. Just take things slow. Be a good guy. All that shit I’m supposed to tell you is good advice.” He laughs.

“I appreciate it.”

“Go on. Get moving. It’s already six. I’ll drive you back home.”

I head off to get myself cleaned up and ready to go see my girl.

My sunshine.

I went straight to the bluff as soon as Mack dropped me off, just like I do most nights. She’s usually here before me, so I’m starting to feel anxious as seven-fifteen rolls around and she hasn’t shown. I can see her silver trailer in the distance, and it looks like the lights are on. I wonder if her mom is home causing some drama with her. It wouldn’t be the first time Cindy has pulled some shit that’s held Lonnie up, but it’s been a while.

I decide my girl needs to be rescued—chock it up to my savior complex—so I start to walk back down the hill and across the way, back to her house. I pull open the screen door and lift my fist to knock on the door, but something captures my attention first.

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