Outfoxed

CHAPTER 7

The Garage, an after-hours club in an abandoned garage, drew a young crowd on Saturday night. The music was good, the drinks were watered, and drugs were sold in the parking lot.

Bored, Doug sat at a small round table wondering why he bothered to go out. He’d downed two martinis and knew, given the weather, that drinking a third and driving those twisty country roads home wouldn’t be the smartest choice. He left money on the table and walked for the door just as a wet Cody Jean Franklin dashed in.

“Doug. Don’t go. I just got here.”

“I can see that.”

“Have I ever told you what beautiful green eyes you have?”

“In first grade.”

“Buy me a drink?”

“No.”

She tossed her long black hair. “Why are you so pissed at me.”

“One word: Fontaine.”

“That? Don’t be silly.”

“You’re sleeping with him, Cody. I know you.”

“Maybe you just think you do. I could care less about Fontaine and I’m not sleeping with him.”

He grabbed her forearm, his grip tight. “Don’t lie to me.”

Coolly she said, “Let go.”

He released her arm as though it were on fire, brushed by her, and walked outside.

Livid, she ran after him.

Doug had opened the door of his truck by the time she reached him. They were both soaked.

She slammed him against the side of the truck and kissed him hard. He put his hands on her shoulders, intending to push her away, but instead he kissed her back.

“Cody, don’t do me like this.”

She whispered in his ear, “Dougie, life’s full of secrets. Some are even worth keeping. Trust me.” She kissed him again. “Let’s go to your place.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Jen dropped me off. I saw your truck.”

He leaned his forehead against her forehead, flesh cool in the wet night. “Don’t lie to me, Cody. I’m taking you home.”

“Great. You can stay at my place.”

“I’m taking you home. Period.” He unlocked his truck. They both got in, the seats wet from their drenched jeans. “As long as you’re fucking around—”

She flared up. “I’m not fucking around.”

“Let me finish.” He turned on the motor and the heat. “As long as you’re doing drugs I’m not getting involved.”

“But we are involved.”

“Were. We broke up Memorial Day. One gram of coke and half a bottle of Absolut. Christ, I’m amazed that you lived.”

She slunk down in the seat, staring out the window.