Page 37 of Saints & Sailors

Dreux tipped his head toward the awaiting vehicle. “That’s a bad idea.”

Honestly, his eager attempt to warn me was almost kinda cute. “Once you get to know me, you’ll find out I’m full of them.”

I started backing away toward the van, but Dreux spoke again.

“Something tells me this town isn’t ready for a hurricane like you,” he said.

As much of a wreck as I was, I liked this analogy. “You might be right.” I faced him one final time, finding him serious in all his handsomeness. I could tell he didn’t do it on purpose, but I hated the way he looked at me. Those dark eyes of his, they tried to read my soul, and no one was getting in there.

I waved goodbye. “See ya, Druski.”

Without looking back, I made my way up to Bonham’s van.

“Evening, pirate.” Bonham reached back and opened the side door for me. “For just a flash of your treasure chest, you can step on board.”

My breasts. He wanted to see my breasts.

I was very aware that Dreux was still in my yard, watching us.

It wasn’t that I gave a shit what anyone thought of me, but I didn’t want to give him a bad impression. What if he told Scott?

“Maybe later,” I said.

Excitement lit up Bonham’s face. “Aye, aye, captain.”

I climbed into the back, and as I was sliding the door closed, I caught Dreux still in place, observing me.

He merely shook his head.

I wanted to say something, or do something, but instead, I simply closed the door.

For tonight’s excursions, it was only Bonham, his friend Bug, and me. Bug was a little guy, maybe five-foot-six at the most, but he had the excitement of ten men. He was bouncing in his seat as I settled in, his hands playing the drums on the steering wheel.

Music on the radio was provided by Linkin Park. It reminded me of how all the good ones died young.

As Chester Bennington sang about being numb, Bonham sat back and took a drag from his cigarette.

“I should be checking you for snakebites,” he said as Bug began driving. “Or a wire.”

Right, because according to him Dreux was a snake. “Guys who quote Hemingway can’t be shady.” Most guys I knew couldn’t even spell Hemingway, much less read and interpret his work.

“ ‘We are made up of two contrasting ideals: Love and Fear. Pick one and live,’ ” Bonham recited. “Axl Rose.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I loved Guns N’ Roses, but his little quote was just to rival Dreux, and Dreux’s was more fitting.

Bug joined in. “You’re too new to understand.”

This was true, and while I didn’t truly care, I was curious.

“What’s the story between you and him anyway?” I finally asked.

I watched in the rearview mirror as Bonham sank back in his seat, his lips pressing into a hardline as that mask he wore when Dreux was mentioned took over his face. “He knows what’s up.”

“Cryptic, much?” I responded. “You warn me about him and he warns me about you, am I ever going to figure it out?”

Bonham snorted in disbelief. “He warned you about me? That’s funny.”

“He doesn’t seem so bad.”