If lost, do not be impulsive. Patience can be the difference between life and death.
~
I smother my sarcasm and motion toward the back wall where rods are obviously on display. “Sorry, sir, this is a fishing shop.”
He removes his hat and glances around the store until his black eyes fixate on the tall glass case. “Let me see one of them knives.” Without waiting, he moves around the counter and eyes the locked display. “How about that one?”
“Sir, that’s a limited edition. What kind of knife are you looking for?”
He leans in and reads the sales tag of the weapon he’s admiring. “A Browning Russ Kommer. Custom Limited Edition Knife.”
He chuckles as I unlock the case and take out the box. “This is custom-made. Hand carved with a black ash burl handle.”
“Yeah, I can read.” The man gives me a nod without even looking at the knife. “I’ll take it.”
I hesitate never knowing anyone to drop this much money on a knife. Must be nice to buy something on sight without caring about the price tag. “Sir, it’s a thousand dollars.”
He waves me off and browses through the display of GPS watches. “Go ahead and ring her up.”
“Sir, are you sure? We have other ones.” I have no clue why I’m attempting to talk this guy out of buying a knife, and my piggy bank out of a large commission.
He frowns. “I said I’d take it.”
“Okay.” I feel a bit guilty for protesting in the first place. Tommy really needs a big sale. My hands shake as I punch in numbers on the register. This one transaction adds up to more than Tommy’s store makes in a week. Maybe even a month. I can feel the man staring at me. Without looking up, I recite his total. “That’ll be $1,007.37. Do you want a bag?”
He pulls a wad of cash from his back pocket and counts out ten one-hundred-dollar bills plus a twenty. “Nah, I’ll just take it with me.” The man chuckles as he takes the box. When the receipt pops out the top, he rips off the little piece of paper and turns away from the counter. The whole time whistling the same song that I still can’t name.
I call after him. “Sir, your change?”
He doesn’t even bother to look back. “Keep it. This place needs it more than I do.”
Before I can protest any more, the wind chimes on the front door clap together, announcing his exit. I sit on the stool, staring at the extra money before dropping it in the Save the Bears donation jar. I mumble, “The animals thank you.”
A few seconds later, Wyn struts up and leans on the counter. “Hey you.”
I can’t help but grin. “What are you doing here?” I look at my watch. There’s no way he could have eaten lunch in thirty minutes. Poor Skyler, she probably had to have her Cobb salad and water all alone. The thought lifts my spirits.
Wyn winks. “I thought I’d stop by to bug you before I head home.”
“Oh, lucky me.” I glance through the window to see if the redneck is still in the street. “Hey, did you see the big dude that walked outta here?”
Wyn thumbs over his shoulder. “The jolly red giant? Yeah, why? Was he bothering you? ‘Cause if he was, I can take care of him.”
I scoff because Wyn isn’t nearly as tough as he sounds. I happen to know he’s been afraid of spiders since the first grade. Totally freaked out every time we watched Charlotte’s Web in class. I snicker. “Oh? And what will you do? Talk him to death?”
“A real man never gives away his fighting strategy.”
I rub my eyes and give a fake yawn. “I bet. Anyway, the dude came in here and slapped down a thousand big ones for a really expensive knife. Barely blinked.”
“Must be nice.” Wyn plays with the fishing lure display. It topples over, spreading hooks and flies all over the carpet.
I groan. “Smooth move, Slick.” We both bend over to pick up the pointy hazards and almost knock heads.
He doesn’t move back. Instead, he hovers an inch from my face. “Did you ask Tommy about that hill?”
“Sidehill? Yeah. He’s never heard of it.”
“Want me to ask my connections?”
I put my hand over his face. “If you mean Carl, no. He probably knows it’s in the file, and he’ll wonder why you’re asking.”
“Speaking of file, I put it back.”
I prick my finger on a hook and suck on the bead of blood. “That was quick.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to carry it around town. Captain was out, so I went for it. Almost got nabbed too. And if I had, don’t think for a second I wouldn’t have thrown you under the short bus.”
I plant a fake punch on his chin. “I know you better than that.”
He shrugs. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“I love it.” I flash him a big smile and return the display to its upright position.
“Well, I’m going to go meet … I mean, I gotta go.” He’s obviously about to hook up with Skyler again and didn’t want to utter the S word.
“Okay.”
He walks backward. “You up for a game night tonight? Haven’t hung out in a while. I need to get my revenge for the last time we played Scrabble.”
I pretend to fiddle with the little boxes of impulse buys next to the register. “You seem pretty confident for someone who lost.”
“Persistence is a state of mind.”
“So is crazy.”
“You would know.” He widens his eyes. “Anyway, it’s not about winning. It’s how you play the game that really matters.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. You don’t believe that anymore than I do.”
He flashes me a wide Cheshire-cat grin and shrugs. “Yeah. I know, but it sounded real sportsmanlike. So are we on?”
I check my watch. Break time. “Can’t. Got up early. All I can think about is food and bed.”
His gaze turns soft for a brief moment. A few uncomfortable seconds pass between us until he breaks through the awkward silence. “Well, maybe next time then?”
I straighten a stack of invoices, trying to hide my disappointment that he’s leaving again. “Uh, yeah … sure. I’ll call you.”
His face flushes a bit as if he’s hot, and he abruptly heads for the door. “If you’re lucky, I’ll answer.” He waves over his shoulder without glancing back, then rubs the back of his head, which tells me he’s smiling. Somehow, even when I can’t see his face, I know exactly what’s going on just by his gestures.
After Wyn leaves, a mixture of emotions stirs around inside me. Why is it guys always seem cuter after you break up? In Wyn’s case, he’s never been hot cute, just adorable cute. But mostly, I’ve always digged his sense of humor. He makes me laugh even when I don’t want to. On paper, we’re probably the perfect pair. A comfortable blend. So different, not alike in most ways, yet still go together somehow. Like peanut butter and jelly or cookies and milk.
I rubberneck out the window, watching him kid around with shop owners as he passes them on the street. It’s funny how people act when Wyn’s around. The men slap him on the back like they’re great friends. And the women smile and giggle. Wyn makes everyone happy. And when he’s around me, my world is brighter even if it is upside down.
Just then, a little dark cloud rolls through, and her name is Skyler. She sneaks up behind Wyn and covers his eyes with her hands like a bad game of guess who. Doesn’t she have a life? When he spins around, she gives him her best fake smile. I swear she even sticks out her boobs.
Maybe I should have punched them harder.
* * *
I sit at my usual booth in the diner and wait for Mom to bring my double order of caffeine and Cinn-O-Bun. Chrome booths with cracked yellow seats fill the large space. A long counter is off to one side of the room, ending at the kitchen, while a buffet borders the far wall, filled with potato salad, mac and cheese, Jell-O and different flavors of pudding. Even though the diner is old, it’s usually packed this time of day. After all, it’s the only place in town with decent food. And that’s not saying much.
Mom finally strolls up with a pencil over one ear and a tray on her hand. Instead of taking my order, she slides a plate full of real food in front of me and annoyingly pinches both my cheeks. “Eat up! You’re getting too skinny.”
I scoff at the ridiculous comment. “You’re not eating with me?”
She stares at the top of my head, unable to lock in eye contact. “Can’t, too busy.”
I duck around, trying to capture her gaze. “You want to hear about my session?”
Mom smiles at someone as they walk in the door. “Be right with you!” Then she addresses me. “Can it wait until later? I’m slammed today. We’re a person short.”
I mumble, “Sure.”
I try not to look too dejected, but before I even answer, she scoots off to take care of her patrons.
Only instead of waiting on tables, she walks back into the kitchen and starts chatting with Kenny, the short order cook. I stare down at my stale turkey sandwich with mayo, a wilted salad, and a milkshake. Somehow, Mom’s forgotten her daughter is vegetable-resistant and lactose-intolerant.
She’s lost it.
Finally, we have something in common.
I slide the drink away and nibble on the bread like a chipmunk. Scanning the room, I observe all the people stuffing themselves. Up at the buffet, people scoop all they can eat onto a plate, determined to get their $6.99 worth. Dad loved the buffet here. Then again, he loved anything on sale.
I soak in my surroundings and listen to the buzz around me. I study each person, noting peculiar things about them most people wouldn’t catch. The way they walk. The way they laugh. One lady slips on a smudge while another man drops food on the floor, then pretends he didn’t. It’s amazing what you see when people assume no one is watching.
At the end of the line, a large man scans the dessert selections and sticks his finger in the pudding to test it. Gross! He spins around in my direction. That’s when I recognize him. The redneck from Tommy’s store. He lumbers toward me, balancing two overfilled plates. I slouch down in my seat, hoping he doesn’t notice me. Luckily, he slides into the booth in front of me. I sigh in relief but continue to spy on his reflection in the window.
He chews his cud and talks at the same time. A drizzle of ketchup cakes both corners of his mouth as he stuffs in a double cheeseburger and a spoon full of mashed potatoes at the same time.
A twiggy dude with a thin mustache, already eating in the booth, leans over and speaks with a lisp. “Think we gonna get close this time?”
The redneck jams a few fries into his pie hole before he’s swallowed the previous bite. He struggles to speak clearly. “Billy, I told yah already. All we gotta do is get us some donuts and corn. Maybe rub some honey on us. They’ll come beggin’.”
Billy scoffs. “Aw, geez, Al. I just want to catch ’em, not date ’em.”
Corn? Honey? Either these guys want to hunt bears, or they’re trying to be the next big hit on YouTube. Some people do whackadoo stuff just to get a kill. One guy even tried baiting a bear by holding marshmallows in his teeth. That didn’t go over so well with the bear or the guy’s face. Dad’s told me some crazy stories. A few sick ones too.
Al whistles the same song from earlier that I still can’t place. He wipes his mouth on his shirt sleeve. “You ready?”
Billy nods. “Bear-ly.”
Al cackles. “Ha! Good one.”
I roll my eyes at how many times I’ve heard that joke up here.
Al stuffs some of the free packets of crackers into his pocket. “Let’s get goin’ then. Catch us some you know what.”
Billy lowers his voice. “Sshhhh.”
Both of these guys are a donut short of a dozen. For one, this is not bear season. Two, unnaturally baiting bears in North Carolina is illegal. Any way you look at it, these guys are breaking the law. Big time.
Whether they know it or not is the question.
Al smacks Billy upside the head. “No need to waste your last brain cell worryin’. We won’t get caught this time.”
My ears perk up like a dog tuning into a high pitch. This time? I hold my breath for fear I’ll miss something important. My hands tremble under the table. There are only two people around here who would bust these guys for illegal hunting.
Les.
Or my dad.
Billy whispers with a slight lisp. “You sure?”
Al hisses like a deflating tire. “Positive.”
I slink down even further, praying they don’t see me. After the two men pay and walk outside, I peek through the mini blinds. They walk down Main Street and disappear into the back alley. As soon as they’re out of sight, I sprint out of the diner and bolt to the corner. Peering around the side, I watch them climb into a shiny green Dodge Ram with temporary tags.
I hesitate for a second. Should I tell Les, or should I follow them and see where they go first? What if they’re totally innocent? That’d be the last thing I need. Carl and Les would never believe me again. On the other hand, if these guys are hunting in these mountains, maybe they know something about my dad?
To act or not to act. To move or not to move. Out in the woods, these are the tiny decisions that contribute to someone losing their way. Those basic questions where the answer can make a huge difference.
Between being lost and found.
Life or death.
I bolt toward Luci.
If these idiots know something about Dad, there’s only one way to find out.