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Getting drunk isn’t the right way to cope with the situation, but I have the big girl cans of Coors Light on hand and I don’t know how the hell else I’m going to get through the next couple of hours, far less the rest of the night.
At least dinner smells good. I don’t know how I’ll react to this elk meat, but if I’m drunk, I don’t have to taste it, I just have to eat it. Augustine serves me a burger right there on the counter on two thick buns. He adds a pickle and ketchup for me before sliding it over.
“Here ya go.”
“That looks good,” I respond weakly as my heart pounds with terror. It smells delicious, but it’s a wild animal and I’m terrified to eat it. Augustine has an infuriatingly cocky response.
“I’m a good cook.”
I’ll be the judge of that, white boy.
Without answering him, I sample Augustine’s burger. I’ve never had elk before, but I’m pretty sure it’s some type of Arctic cow thing. Or a deer. I need to start looking stuff up way more. Lachelle was right. I’m in over my head. At least it smells like a normal burger. My heart races throughout my first bite, but the juiciness and the delectable flavor hits me like an Amtrak train.
“Oh, damn! That tastes good.”
Augustine smirks and lets out a little mountain man style grunt. “Told you.”
He tips more beer down his throat and I suppress my instant urge to be attracted to a man who cooks. He just told me he wasn’t attracted to black women. I’m not going to act desperate. I can hold my head high and live my truth – I just did this to pay off my loans. I’m not expecting to fall in love and I’m definitely not expecting this pillar of muscle to dick me down.
I need to fake my own death.
He’s already two beers deep. I’ll keep him drinking and do whatever I have to do to knock his ass out. Once he’s out like a light… I’ll take off with a butcher knife and a little backpack. I might have to draw some blood and soak a t-shirt and leave a wig behind but I’m sure I can fake my death successfully out here if I stay out of sight long enough.
Lachelle can come get my ass once the dust settles and I’ll change my name to something festive and foreign.Marzipan Gelato.I just made that up. But it sounds good. I keep eating the burger. I tell myself it’s because I’m hungry and he’s not that good of a cook. Washing down each bite of the burger with beer, I finish my second can of Coors and feel a little light-headed.
Alcohol always makes me feel a little messy and watching Augustine’s fine, racist ass eat that elk burger makes me feel a little messy. I want to poke the bear. His dogs are curled up asleep near the front door, so I know I can test him without having those blue-eyed wolf creatures eating me up.
“How did your last relationship end?”
“Why would you ask that?” he says, sounding annoyed. Considering I just made up my mind to run away, I don’t really care if I piss him off. I want my answers before I get out of here. If he didn’t even find me sexy, why did this mountain man bother buying me for over a quarter-million dollars?
“Because I think you’re a serial killer.”
He chuckles. Then he laughs. Like he laughs as if I said some Kevin Hart shit.
“What the hell is so funny?”
“I’m not a serial killer.”
His eyes glimmer like I just tap-danced in a clown costume. I roll my eyes.
“I don’t find it funny as your potential victim.”
“Christ, woman. You don’t have anything to worry about. I thought we covered that.”
I bite my lip and then open my third can of Coors. I don’t know how, but Augustine is somehow two cans ahead of me. He looks drunk too. His cheeks are flushed and he slurs all his words. There is something kinda sexy about the way the liquor seems to loosen him up. I half expect to see him take off that yellow plaid flannel shirt and show me more of the clearly muscular body he’s hiding beneath the shirt.
Maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part.
“We’re married. I should know everything about you.”
“Is that what marriage is?” he says in a voice that sounds very annoyed. Does he think tightening his voice will stop me from conducting an investigation? Think again, white boy. .
“I don’t know. We never talked about it. We just made it happen.”
Augustine grunts. “I was probably way too hungover when I made that decision.”
His comment irks me again. And I’ve had just enough liquor in me that I’m feeling quite a bit argumentative. That delicious elk burger gives me enough energy to be smart-mouthed and the beer ensures that I don’t give a damn about the consequences.
