10. Avery

Though not aggressively windy, the drive down to Elkins was nauseating. With her father in the passenger seat, chatting business as his associate drove, Avery spent most of it with her head pressed against the window and her eyes closed. Were she her younger brother or had she any interest in Payne Strategies as a future career, she would have felt pressured to pay attention, absorbing all she could for the inevitable moment weeks from now when her father decided to quiz her on the conversation.

But Avery was neither of those things. Firstborn, yes; first son, no. In a way, it made life easier. She felt none of the pressure to follow in her father’s footsteps that Michael did, but the expectations leveled on her were different.

Old fashioned, she mused.

Avery was expected to be a Good Daughter. To be modest in demeanor and dress, to pursue feminine hobbies, and, eventually, marry and produce more little Paynes for her father to use as marketing and PR props. She supposed she ought to be grateful that America also cherished its athletes and that women of her mother’s generation had fought for and earned the opportunity to pursue higher education and moderate independence so long as they eventually “settled down.”

When Avery presented her case for working at Elkwater Music Camp, her father had vetoed the idea. It had been her mother’s interference, pointing out how a Payne working at an integrated camp was good for optics, that led to his begrudging agreement.

Though Avery was grateful for her mother stepping in, she still fumed that she’d had to argue for her own future. Forgetting that she needed this summer, for Carnegie, for herself, that she had to present a business case to do something any other parent would be proud of, that it required his buy-in, was ridiculous!

It was no surprise, then, that he had wanted to make the hour-long drive to Elkins rather than eat at the camp and tour Avery’s home for the summer. He brushed it off, as he always did.

“Business expense, kiddo, you know how it is.”

And she did. With so many kids and a wife to provide for, it made sense Nathan Payne would cut corners where he could. Not that the family needed to cut corners. Her grandfather had built Payne Strategies from the ground up in a golden era of bootstrap sensibilities, taking on clients that represented the beliefs of a particular political party and riding that wave up until the day he handed over the reins to his son.

Still, Nathan Payne clung to his public image: businessman and father, family man, a man you could trust, but only so long as you didn’t look too close. So long as you didn”t peel back the shiny veneer and glimpse the nasty, bigoted man beneath the wide smile and styled hair.

The sedan slid into a parking spot, and Avery snapped out of her thoughts, sitting up and blinking out the window.

“Best this shithole has to offer, I’m afraid,” her father’s business associate, Troy, said. “The other options were McDonald’s, a dago-run pizza joint, and a bar that likely serves tetanus along with your fries.”

“This’ll do nicely.” Nathan shoved the passenger-side door open, sliding out of the sedan like a snake slithering from its burrow. “Nothing better than a stick-to-your-ribs Appalachian burger.”

“If you want to have your Armani let out,” Troy laughed.

Avery joined them on the sidewalk, biting her tongue to keep silent. Her father dropped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close.

“Elizabeth certainly looks as though she’s been enjoying the local fare.” His fingers tightened on her upper arm, digging into the softness there. “Can’t be that bad.”

“She certainly does.” Troy’s smile turned leering, and he flicked his gaze over her in a way that made her skin itch. He spun and charged up the restaurant stairs, reading the name painted on the glass pane before holding the door open for Nathan. “We might as well meander in.”

“Meander’s,” Avery corrected before she could stop herself, pronouncing the restaurant’s name the way she had heard other locals say it. Mean-ders.

“Fitting in already.” Nathan smiled down at her, his eyes cold. “Let’s pretend we’re civilized for a few hours, hm?”

And with that, he sauntered up the steps, nodding at Troy as he entered the restaurant. Avery lingered on the sidewalk, debating running for the hills.

“You coming?” Troy called from the door, that sharp, intense gaze leveled on her. She sighed and trudged up the steps, tugging her skirt from between her calves. He held the door for her, an innocent grin on his face, and followed Avery closely into the restaurant. She stopped a few feet away from her father, who was chatting with the hostess, and Troy stopped right behind her. She glanced back, hoping her annoyance wasn’t too clearly written on her face. Oblivious, he swept the plackets of his tailored coat aside and put his hands on his hips. Eyes drifting closed, he inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh.

“Ah, now that smells like a full meal.”

Avery frowned, sniffed, and had to agree. Meander’s smelled amazing: burgers and fries, country gravy, and a hint of sweetness from the dessert display. Her stomach growled, and Troy chuckled far too close to her ear.

“Hungry, little girl?”

“Wilkolak!” her father barked, circling his hand in the air for them to follow. “Let’s get this over with.”

Troy shot Avery a tight-lipped smile as he slid past, following her father and the hostess into the dining area.

Wood-paneled and cozy, Meander’s interior looked like it hadn’t been updated since the restaurant opened. Taxidermied deer heads decorated the walls alongside sun-bleached photographs of the region and framed newspaper articles spanning thirty years featuring the citizens of Elkins.

The hostess sat them in a booth, Troy sliding in beside Avery on the cracked leather bench, and eyed both of the men warily as she handed out menus. Her hand lingered on Avery’s, and when she looked up, Avery startled at the young woman’s eyes—slitted like a snake and set in bold yellow pupils. She nodded once, eyes dropping to Avery’s shirt, then let go of the menu. Avery glanced down, belatedly remembering she was wearing a green Elkwater Music Camp polo tucked into her tiered denim skirt.

Warmth kindled in her chest as she deciphered that brief nod into the acknowledgment of a sort of belonging. She sat straighter, scanning her menu as her father and Troy continued their discussion from the car.

It was about a real estate deal; she had gleaned that much. The same one her father had mentioned on their call.

“We have three properties set to close in the next week,” Troy said. “And then I can get to work on the next batch of holdouts.”

“Excellent,” said Nathan. “I’m sure the fellas at the home office are pleased with the commission you’ll be bringing in.”

“They’re not upset, I can tell you that,” Troy replied.

“I was doubtful when Lunar Asset argued for 7%, but with the progress you’ve made, I can see your firm is worth every penny.” He cleared his throat, jovial tone dropping. “US Petrol wants us to present our first case in two weeks; if we secure the properties before then, we can use that to pressure the local congressman.”

“Y’all ready to order?” A heavily bearded waiter stepped up to the table. The Meander’s t-shirt he wore strained against a barrel chest and massive, hairy arms. Nathan leaned away from their waiter while Troy turned that wolfish grin directly on him.

“I’ll take the steak, rare, no potatoes, an extra side of au jus, and the house salad. Undressed.”

“And to drink?” the waiter asked, seemingly blind to Troy’s threatening smile and Nathan’s obvious disgust.

“Tea, unsweetened, if that even exists in Elkins. If not, water.”

“Unsweetened tea it is,” the waiter replied, his friendly expression unfaltering. Avery was impressed. Just listening to Troy’s order had her fingers trembling. She clasped them together in her lap, her head down to hide the angry purse of her lips. “For you, sir?”

“Club sandwich, bag of chips, bottle of water,” Nathan answered, throwing the menu down on the table when the waiter held out his hand.

“And you, miss?”

“Cheeseburger,” Avery mumbled. Her father cleared his throat, and she lifted her head. He glared at her from across the table, mouth turned down in a frown. “I mean, the cobb salad.”

Without missing a beat, the waiter smiled, revealing a row of blocky yellow teeth that identified him as an adolescent sasquatch. “I can do the cobb as a side for the burger instead of fries. Sound good?”

“I, um.” Avery glanced at her father, who shook his head. Heat built in her chest, and she sat up straighter, smiling at the waiter. “Yes, please. With blue cheese dressing, if you have it.”

“We absolutely do.” He grinned wider back at her, deep-set eyes twinkling as Avery reached across Troy to hand him her menu.

“Gluttony is a sin, Elizabeth.” Nathan clicked his tongue, shaking his head in the way of a disappointed father. “Once you’re home from Camp Cryptid, we’ll discuss your behavior.” Threat leveled, he faced Troy, effectively cutting Avery out of the conversation. It was a dismissal meant to make her feel small and useless, but to Avery, it was a relief. She let her eyes wander the street until their food arrived, and then she nibbled on her burger, watching the daily life of Elkins, West Virginia, pass by.

A man and a female-presenting naga wearing a baby in a sling crossed the street hand-in-hand. Outside the local bar, a mothman leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette and nodding to people as they passed by. A young woman hopped up onto the sidewalk, and the mothman’s eyes lit up bright red, his smile widening as they embraced in a friendly hug.

“Wendy-something, they’re calling it,” Troy said with a chuckle, drawing Avery’s attention away from the street. He shook his head, a disbelieving grin crinkling his cheek. “Can you believe these backwoods hicks? Getting stalked and terrorized by a mystery cryptid; it kills their chickens and livestock, and still, they won’t sell. They won’t even admit they saw anything in the woods.”

“That’s the problem with these hillbillies,” Nathan grumbled through a mouthful of sandwich. “You saw that camp; they’d rather cater to monsters and bring them into the fold like we’re all one big, happy family than face the truth: this nation is being overrun. Look at my daughter—” He pointed his sandwich in Avery’s direction, frown deepening as his eyes landed on the half-eaten burger and untouched salad. “She’s had to sacrifice her upbringing and morals in order to get ahead.”

“Americans have no spine anymore,” Troy agreed.

“We need to push these monsters out and take our land back,” Nathan continued. “Not incorporate them into our society.”

Avery shrank in her seat. This rhetoric wasn’t new. Her dad had touted the same arguments for most of her life: America is for the Americans. This land was built by human hands. Why should they have to accommodate the arrival of monsters?

The one time she’d spoken up, arguing that they weren’t monsters, they just weren’t human, her father had slapped her across the cheek and sent her to her room for being impertinent.

“All it takes is a little push,” said Troy. His eyes followed a woman as she walked by. Scales clung to her temples and trickled down her neck, and she flicked a forked tongue before commenting to her friend how good the food smelled. “We have to remind these hillbillies how dangerous the monsters are, and they’ll sell. Once they do, Lunar Asset Management is poised to pivot directly into working with your client. Our team in DC is close to securing the votes we need to file for eminent domain.”

“I’ve got a direct line on Congressman Murray, as you noticed,” her father added. Troy smiled, a malicious light entering his eyes. “He’ll come around soon enough.”

“Your bill.” The waiter returned, waving a vinyl billfold between Troy and Nathan. Avery’s father grabbed it and, to her surprise, set the billfold down in front of Avery.

“Use the card I gave you,” he instructed.

“The emergency card?” Sure, it was his credit card. He’d given it to her when she went to college, but why would he have her pay for a business lunch?

“You haven’t used it this month. Even small purchases you pay off help build your credit, Elizabeth.” He shook his head as if she ought to know better. “And we thought giving women credit cards was a good idea,” he said to Troy. “You should see the bills my wife racks up.”

“My girlfriend is just as bad. Does one woman need that many manicures?”

Avery scrawled her name on the customer copy first. Payne Strategies’ accounting department wouldn’t reimburse for a meal unless you submitted a signed receipt, and her father had already read her the riot act once before for submitting an unsigned copy. The inkball failed to roll, and she scribbled in the margin of the receipt to get the ink flowing, trying again and managing the latter half of her name. Her father glanced over, frowning.

“Pen’s not working,” she explained, pressing hard against the receipt to fill in the first letters of her full name. Nathan nodded, returning to his conversation with Troy.

Unobserved, Avery added a decent tip and signed the merchant copy. Setting it in the billfold, she slid the customer copy across the table. Her father broke away from his conversation long enough to drop his attention to the receipt, nodding at her signature and slipping it into the pocket of his coat. “That’s my good girl.”