“What kind of diversion?” I asked. “Like a big ass fire or something?”
“Exactly,” Rylen said. “Something close enough to make them feel threatened and want to check it out, but far enough to give us time to come around from the other side and storm the front gate.”
“What if everyone starts shooting?” She sounded horrified. I tensed, waiting for the guys to verbally attack her naiveté again, but they were respectfully quiet.
“None of us wants to kill,” Texas Harry said. “But if it comes down to them or us, we won’t hesitate.”
Shooting was a given. The guards would feel threatened. So would our guys. Sudden fear seized me. Twenty guards against our eight guys and me. And that’s if Remy would let me out of her claws so I could help the cause.
I rubbed my forehead.
“I think this night calls for a drink,” Texas Harry said. He pushed to his feet and went over to his pack, rifling through and joining us again with a huge bottle.
“Jack?” Tater asked. “Hell yeah, bro.”
Before anyone could do or say anything, Remy reached over and grabbed the bottle from Texas Harry. She unscrewed the cap and held the bottle with two hands as she tipped it up and chugged.
“Remy!” I said. She brought it down and her whole body gave a violent shiver. She let out a loud breath and smiled. All at once the guys broke into cheer, clapping and slapping their legs.
It was on.
I was the only one not drinking. And honestly, I wanted to. I wanted to get so wasted that my worries would crawl away from me and pass out in a sea of nothingness. But the problem was, we did not have enough water resources to keep us hydrated against the alcohol. I couldn’t say that to them, of course. This beast would not be stopped. Even Rylen was drinking. They would probably end up draining every single bottle of water tomorrow, which made me itchy all over. I wanted to smack some sense into them.
But they were having fun. And fun was a rarity we needed.
The fun was getting out of hand. All of the guys were hitting on Remy. Except Rylen, of course, and Sean, who sat with the group and grinned without saying much. But the rest of them were like freaking peacocks with their feathers fanned, strutting around her. Remy ate up the attention like a starving woman. Her face was going to hurt tomorrow from smiling and laughing.
Rylen and I sat together on our rocks, watching as the other guys told animated stories of all the manly things they’d ever done—how much they could lift, how far they could shoot, how many IUD explosions they’d escaped—everything but the size of their junk, but that would probably come up now that we were nearing the bottom of the bottle. Everyone took one last swig, and then the liter was empty.
Tall Mark grinned at Remy with his wrists hanging lazily over his knees. “So, what were you studying in school?”
“Biology,” she said. “I wanted to be a middle school science teacher.”
Mark made a face and some of the other guys hissed. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Middle schoolers are awesome!” Remy said with passion. “They’re right at that age where they’re trying to figure out who they are and what their place is in the world. And science is all around them. It’s like a constant that keeps them grounded and helps them make sense of their changing bodies and emotions, and—”
“You do realize all them little boys are gonna be having wet dreams about you, right?” Texas Harry asked.
Remy’s mouth popped open, appalled, as the other guys fell over laughing.
“That is disgusting!” she yelled. But she couldn’t stay mad long. In seconds, she was laughing with them. “I’ll put my hair up in a bun and wear a mumu.”
“Won’t matter,” Mark said. “Boys have legendary imaginations.”
Another round of laughter.
Short Matt was the drunkest of the bunch, his head lolling and his words slurring. “I once jerked off thinking about my English teacher on a stripper pole. I think she was, like, sixty.”
More falling over raucous laughter.
“You’ve got issues, sweetie,” Remy said.
“I was twelve!” His goofy, lopsided grin made her reach out and pat his cheek. Everyone “Awwed” and then a comfortable lull passed.
Texas Harry rubbed the thick facial hair growing across his cheek. “Man . . . I really need to shave this sasquatch.”
A beat of absolute, horrible silence passed, in which my stomach plummeted deep inside me, and then Remy’s voice and spluttering gasps filled the air, “You! You dirty perv! You were listening and watching us! I knew it.” Absolute hysterical laughter ensued.
Shit! My face flamed and I was glad it was dark enough to hide the worst of my embarrassment.
“What are you guys talking about?” Tater asked with a bemused smile.
“Nothing,” I said loudly.
“It’s obviously something,” Rylen said.
I was desperate not to have the sasquatch comment explained. “No, it’s really nothing. They overheard mine and Remy’s stupid conversation when we were showering.”
Sean stood up and stretched. “On that note, I’m going to hit the sack.”
“Always first to bed,” Texas Harry said. “G’night, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed softly, giving a mock-salute. He disappeared into the one-man tent.
“What’s with the sasquatch comment?” Tater would not let it go.
“Oh my freaking gosh,” I said. “Just drop it. They’re joking around with us.” I stood up. If the sasquatch explanation came to light, I really didn’t want to be sitting next to Rylen. “I’m going to bed.”
“Wait, I have an idea,” New York Josh said. He turned the big bottle onto its side on a patch of dirt and gave it a spin.
“Oh, no,” Remy said. “Not if I’m the only girl. I’ll play if Amber plays.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading in the moonlight. I walked over, but stopped and kissed the top of her head.
“Not on your life,” I told her.
Everyone but Tater and Rylen booed me. I smiled and shrugged. “Good night, everyone.”
I made my way to the tent, feeling a strange sense of sadness and regret. I wanted to be able to have fun like Remy. Would I ever be able to? I hated feeling so boring.
I’d almost zipped the flap closed when I saw a hand grasp the opening. “Mind if I join you?” Rylen’s voice reverberated through the nylon door, making me shake on the inside.
“Yeah, sure.” I unzipped it and he climbed in, leaving his shoes outside of the tent just as I had.
I was very aware of his nearness in the small space as we both took spots against the far sides, leaving room between us for Remy and Tater. Voices and laughter came to us from where the others sat up the hill, but I couldn’t make out full details of their conversation. I lay down on my side, facing him, and he lay on his back. It was dark, but my eyes had adjusted to the small light given by the moon, stars, and campfire. I squinted and saw that he’d closed his eyes.
Rylen had had at least eight shots from the liter of whiskey. The tent’s air quickly filled with the faint smell of Jack Daniels and Rylen Fite. I can’t say I hated the combination. In fact, it kind of gave me my own personal buzz.
We were quiet so long that my body started to relax and feel heavy with sleep. And then Rylen whispered.
“I don’t think she’s happy.”
My ears perked and my heart sped up. “What?”
It took a moment, but he finally replied in that same low, quiet tone. “I don’t think she wants to be married to me.”
For a few seconds all I heard was my heart pounding in my ears. He had to be drunk to bring up something so major. Something so private.
“I doubt that, Rylen,” I whispered.
“I mean it,” he whispered a little more strongly. “I keep thinking back to Guatemala . . . she told me that she told you.”
“Yeah,” I breathed, still shocked he was talking about this.
“We were caught up in the moment, you know? She was scared for her life, and I was pissed off by the injustice of it—and we just sort of clicked. We clung to each other. It was like no one else in the world could understand.”
“You don’t have to tell me any of this,” I said. I was so afraid he would wake up and regret this conversation. I didn’t want him to be ashamed or awkward about it tomorrow.
“I want to,” he insisted. “I can’t talk to anyone else.” He sat up and rubbed his face, roughly running his hands through his hair. We ended up facing each other, and I clasped my hands in my lap to keep them from trembling.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me why you think she could possibly regret it.”
“In Guatemala, I put her up in a hotel to keep her safe, and I’d visit her at night after work. When it was getting close to time for me to leave, she asked me to bring her to a neighboring town where she had a cousin she could stay with. I didn’t like that idea. It was another small, old school town, just like hers, where people basically made their own laws. Her dad could have found her there. Or word would travel and she’d end up shunned. I told her I could bring her to the U.S. It wasn’t until we went to the local town council to get her paperwork that I realized those fuckers would do anything to make a buck. They said she couldn’t leave unless she was going with a legal spouse.”
“Is that really the law?” I asked.
“No clue. Some towns in the world are so corrupt that they make their own laws to suit their needs. And of course a marriage license was pricey. It made the local government some money. At that point I would’ve done anything to keep her safe. God, Pepper, if you could have seen . . .” He looked up, and I could make out his eyes on me. “I know she’s been kind of shy since she’s been here, but when I saw her being beaten, she was fierce. Her chin was up, and she did not want to show pain. She wouldn’t give those bastards the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She was so strong, and all I could think was, Damn, that could be Pepper.”
He looked down and I swallowed several times, fighting the emotion pooling inside of me. I had no idea what to say. No idea how to feel—only that I was overwhelmed.
“When we were at the hotel, I didn’t try to touch her because she was so hurt. She was black and blue all over, covered in cuts. On the second day, she kissed me, but it felt like she was trying to thank me or pay me, so I stopped it. I think it hurt her feelings. I tried to explain it in Spanish as best as I could, that she didn’t owe me, but I’m not sure she understood. And next thing I knew, we were married and flying to the U.S.”
My heart was lodged so far up my throat, I couldn’t even swallow.
He scrubbed the top of his head with his fingers again. “We’ve been married six weeks and we’ve never . . . we haven’t been together. We’ve only kissed.”
A giant, dry blast of air got stuck in my constricting lungs. Rylen and Livia hadn’t had sex. I was relieved and shocked and saddened for them both. I pushed words out of my mouth. I had to be supportive.
“It makes sense, Ry. You kind of had to rush the wedding, and then there was the pregnancy stuff. But now it’ll sort of be like you’re dating. We’ll get her back, and you guys can get to know each other.” I paused. This was killing me. “You’ll work your way up to the other stuff.”
“I don’t think she wants to.” He sounded pained. “I know she cares. She genuinely does. But whenever we’ve tried to get physical, it feels . . . forced.” He shook his head. “She’s a good girl. I want to make her happy.”
I swiped my leaking eyes with the backs of my hands. Oh, God, I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t handle this. I tried to inhale as quietly as possible, to fill my chest with a cleansing breath of Rylen-scented air.
“Everything will work out,” I whispered. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong. The world is a mess right now. It’s probably having an effect on lots of marriages, much less brand new ones with language barriers.”
“Maybe.” I thought I could see his head shake. “I don’t know.”
I reached into my bag by my feet and pulled out a bottle of water. I unscrewed it and took a big gulp, and then I handed it to Ry. “Drink all of this and get some rest.”
He gave a chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”
A loud burst of laughter and yelling came from outside as Rylen finished the water and lay on his back. I watched his shadowy form, and within a minute his breathing became louder and steady. He was asleep.
I pushed my legs into the sleeping bag and sighed in contentment at the warmth. I wished I could fall asleep as fast as Ry, but his words were galloping through my mind, and the voices of everyone outside rang in my ears. Why was life so unfair? Why did everything have to be so wrong? The only thing worse than Rylen being married was Rylen and Livia being stuck in an unhappy marriage. As much as it killed me to think it, I would rather they fell fast in love and humped like bunnies than to be in this in-between asexual phase, being unhappy and refusing to part ways. Maybe if they were truly in love, it would force me to move along.
After a long while of wallowing in my thoughts, things seemed to quiet down outside. Sounds of shuffling feet and grumbling, and zippering sleeping bags filled the night air. If everyone was getting ready for bed, that meant Remy and Tater would be in soon. I wished I could fall asleep, because everyone in the camp was probably going to snore like crazy tonight. If they fell asleep before me and I had to listen to that, I was screwed.
A few minutes later I thought I heard Remy crying. I sat up and listened harder. She was whimpering somewhere nearby. Just as I was about to jump up and find her, the whimpering turned to rhythmic moans of “uhn, uhn, uhn.”
Oh, my God! Was Remy having sex with one of them in the other tent??
No way. I listened harder and heard Texas Harry say, “Lucky bastard,” from a little further away, followed by murmurs and low laughter. So, it wasn’t him. Josh, maybe?
Remy gave a particularly loud shout of ecstasy and Rylen sat straight up, head swiveling side to side. “What was that?”
“Uh . . .”
“Yes, oh God, yes. Tater, uuuhng!”
“Oh, my God.” I slapped a hand over my mouth.
Rylen fell heavily onto his back and flung a forearm over his eyes. “Ah, Tater, you motherfucker.”
My thoughts exactly. What were they thinking? They annoyed the hell out of each other! Stupid whiskey and its stupid inhibition lowering ability. Now we’d have awkward drama on our hands on top of everything else going on. I knew Remy. It was never just a hook-up for her. All hook-ups came with drama.
They got quiet, and my heart started to slow, and then bam. They were at it again, faster and louder. When I heard skin smacking and Tater’s grunting, I slammed my pillow over my head and squished it against my ears to block out all sound. I stayed like that until long after the sounds had stopped, with my arm muscles shaking from the exertion of holding down the pillow, until I was finally exhausted enough to fall asleep. Small mercies.
I woke at dawn to the distant sounds of retching.
Rylen never stirred as I sat up and slipped out of the crinkly sleeping bag. The tent zipper seemed so loud in the quiet morning. I reached back and grabbed my sweatshirt, pulling it over my head. One of the guys in the outside huddle of sleeping bags stirred, but nobody got up.
I made my way down the trail toward the sounds until I found Remy behind a tree, bent over on her knees, one hand on the ground, one hand holding back her mane of wild blond waves. Her whole body shook. She didn’t look up as I squatted next to her and gathered her hair.
“I think I’m dying,” she croaked.
Aside from fast-food French fries, there was nothing I could give Remy to make her feel better. She wouldn’t drink water or eat anything when she felt like this. Only time would help her. The next couple hours would be miserable.
“You’ll be okay,” I whispered.
I looked at the ground, but it was only liquid and yellowish acid. She hadn’t eaten
much yesterday, which made it all the worse.
“Is everyone still asleep?” She sounded hopeful.
“Yeah.”
She sat back on her heels, wiping her face with her eyes closed. I so wanted to give her a hard time about Tater, and to kick her ass for making me listen to them having sex, especially while I was stuck next to Rylen. But I didn’t have the heart. Once she was feeling better, it would be on.
When her stomach finally settled, she crawled over and leaned back against the trees. Her eyes stayed shut, and I began to wonder if she was avoiding looking at me.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
“No,” she whispered. “Not yet.” Her hand reached out toward me and I took it. She was warm despite the chill of the morning.
I cleared my throat. “So . . . how much do you remember from last night?”
She gave a dry, lackluster chuckle. “Enough.” One eye cracked open and focused on me. “How mad are you?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t say I’m excited. I figured you’d pick any of those guys over my idiot brother. I thought he annoyed you.”
Now it was her turn to sigh, but her exhale sounded dreamy. “He did back in the day. But not anymore. Not since he came back.”
“Great. Well, just for the record, I never want to hear him having sex again.”
Her eyes shot open and bugged out. “You could hear us?”
I stared at her. “Um . . . like, every detail. I slept with a pillow over my head.”
She gave her embarrassed giggle, but the sound quickly changed to a gag and she was bending over again. Nothing came out, just dry heaving, and then she was giggling again and grabbing her aching head.
“You’re a hot mess,” I said.
When she finally settled, she leaned her head back again. “Amber.” Another sappy sigh. “I could fall so hard for him.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. My brain went on high alert. This never, ever ended well. Remy, in her own way, was a player, just like Tater. If a guy fell hard for her, she’d find some flimsy reason to break things off. If a guy decided he wasn’t into her anymore, it affected her on a deep level. It was like a desperate, sickening mental game she played, a punishing cycle. Pretty sure this was her way of dealing with Daddy Issues.