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Her happy drunk face morphed instantly into anger. “I told you, no one is telling me what to do. Give me the beer or I’ll start screaming.”
“You’re drunk enough.”
As fast as it had come on, the anger now disappeared and her face crumpled. “You don’t get it, Isaac,” she said, gripping me by my jacket. “I need to get away from all of this.” She waved her hand over her head, as if trying to dispel a dark cloud of thoughts or memories.
A cloud of what? Put there by who? I looked into her wide, frightened eyes and recalled black X’s on her skin, and a deep fear uncoiled in my gut.
It’s bad. Whatever it is, it’s fucking bad.
“Please,” she begged. “Just take me somewhere.”
I looked back at the theater, then back at her, torn in two.
“The cemetery,” Willow said, her glassy eyes lighting up. “Take me to the cemetery. It’s really old right? Hundreds of years old? I want to go there. Please.” She firmed her voice. “It’s my choice. I’m getting wasted with or without you.”
Shit. Helping her get drunk felt like exactly the right thing and exactly the wrong thing to do. But if she were intent on going on a bender, better I was with her.
“All right, let’s go.”
She hooked her arm in mine like we were going to take a stroll down the boulevard. I fished out my phone and texted Marty:
Willow’s not feeling well. I’m taking her home. I won’t be back.
His reply came a minute later. Take care of her.
I walked Willow to my Dodge pickup and helped her inside, then climbed behind the wheel. She was already trying to dig into the bag.
“You have to wait until we get there,” I told her. “No open containers. Try not to get me arrested, please.”
Then I can spend a night in the holding tank, just like my old man. Wouldn’t he be proud?
“I don’t want you to be arrested,” she said with drunken solemnness. “That would truly suck.”
I had to chuckle, despite myself. Willow laid her head back against the seat, her eyes closed, smiling and humming to herself. Her hair was loose, falling almost to her waist in long blonde waves. She wore a black, tight-fitting, long sleeved shirt. It highlighted the swell of her breasts and the elegant curve of her neck.
She was the most exquisite girl I’d ever seen, even drunk off her ass. But she was drunk, which altered my attraction. Put any physical desire on the back burner. My job was to take care of her and that’s it.
And try not to get puked on.
“How much did you drink?” I asked. “What was it, Scotch?”
“Mm.” Her head lolled toward me. “My father, unbeknownst to him, genuinely… I mean generously let me partake in his stash.”
“How did you get downtown?”
She snorted wetly. “There’s such a thing as taxis. Even in little Harmony, you know. So many things here you don’t see.”
“I’ve lived here my entire life,” I said. “I’ve seen everything.”
“With your eyes, yes. But there’s so much more…”
She leaned forward to rummage in the back pocket of her jeans and came up with a small wad of cash. “My mother genuinely… Generously supplied me with funds for this little excursion. Here.” She peeled off three twenties and stuffed them in my jacket pocket. “Gas money, courtesy of Madame Holloway. So you can drive her daughter all over and see the sights.”
“I don’t want your money.” I tried to give it back to her and she pushed my hand away, so I left it on the seat between us.
I pulled onto the street in front of the cemetery. It had no parking lot, and only a squat, brick mortuary, closed for decades, stood in front of the plots.
Willow was opening the door before I even had the truck in park. I ran around to the other side to help her. As I put my arm out to steady her, she gazed up at me.
