7. Packages

SEVEN

Packages

"Grey? What are you doing in there?" Duke shouted, banging his fists against the door of the trailer.

I was sitting on my bed, staring at Nicholai's jacket. The dark sports jacket he had left at the beach after tossing me into the water. I wasn't stupid. I knew he had left it deliberately. I knew he hadn't wanted me to walk all the way home, sopping wet and freezing.

So then, why had he thrown me into the fucking ocean?

Satan was sitting on the kitchen counter, tail swishing against the cabinet, wonky glare narrowed in hatred. He had tried to take a swipe at the jacket, so I had banned him from the trailer. As always, he refused my ban and decided to park himself in the kitchen, occasionally mewling a disgusted sound of displeasure at me .

Duke tried the door handle, realising it wasn't locked. He pushed it open, stepped inside, and swung his eyes my way. He paused, his hand still on the handle, his dark eyes running up my legs. I was only wearing small sleep shorts and an oversized shirt.

"Are you still sleeping?" he asked. "It's noon."

"You always sleep until noon," I returned, my voice unemotional.

"It's noon on a school day." His lips were curving into a smirk. "I missed seeing you walk past my place. I thought you were sick or something."

Satan hissed at him. He barely spared the cat a glance, or maybe he didn't spare him a glance at all, and he was just surveying the inside of my trailer.

"Did you come to take care of me?" I laughed as I spoke because the idea was too absurd.

Duke frowned. "I came to catch you in bed, in your cute little pyjamas. Obviously." He closed the door behind him, striding toward the tiny bedroom. "So, are you sick or what?"

"I don't want to go to school."

"Let's go out then."

"Fine." I struggled upright, kicking Nicholai's jacket to the floor.

I hadn't been so angry at him the night before, or the day after that … but I had woken in a burning fury on Monday morning, with the looming promise of sc hool. He wasn't allowed to step outside of his role. He wasn't allowed to force me to feel anything. I liked feeling nothing. With that decisive thought, I closed my eyes, willing the anger to fade away. When I opened my eyes again, Duke was leaning against the fridge, a dark eyebrow cocked in question.

"Finished saying your prayers, princess?"

I ignored him, walking to the tiny closet and reaching for one of my usual sundresses. I paused, my fingers clenched in the material.

Not today, not tomorrow, not five years from now. Not when some dickhead breaks your heart, or when you realise what your little sundresses do to everyone …

I drew back, grabbing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt instead. It was windy outside, anyway. I pulled the curtains over the front of the bedroom, shutting Duke out as I quickly changed my clothes. I really needed to take a shower, but I doubted he would wait.

"Let the cat out, would you?" I called out.

"What cat?" he called back.

Satan slipped beneath the curtain, diving under my bed and swiping at the jacket on the floor. Grumbling, I swiped it up and shoved it into the cupboard.

After I was done, I followed Duke to the visitor's lot at the front of Summer Estate, where a black truck sat waiting .

"This your truck?" I asked, climbing up into the passenger seat.

"It's not my grandma's." He turned the engine over and pulled out of the lot.

I flicked the little bobblehead stuck to the dash—it was one of those typical hula girls, but someone had painted over her bikini top so that it looked like her boobs were hanging out. "I guess not."

"It's lucky that you're here." He cranked his window down before punching the radio on and turning the volume down. "I could use your help with something."

What a coincidence . "Yeah. Lucky."

"I gotta deliver a package, but I'm banned from the place it needs to be delivered to. It's nothing big. Think you can take it in for me?"

"Okay."

He paused, turning to look at me, and then he was pulling the truck over to the side of the road. Someone passed us, blasting their horn.

"Do you say yes to everything?" Duke asked. A strange stillness seemed to have overcome him.

I shrugged.

He leaned forward, his hand on my chin, tugging my mouth to his. He kissed me curiously, but with heat. His teeth scraped over my lower lip, a gravelly sound travelling from the back of his throat. "You have no idea … but I'm going to teach you."

I pulled back, turning my face to the window. He chuckled, unaware—or uncaring—of the fury that was sweeping through me. He pulled back onto the road, turning the radio up. Blink 182's ‘What's My Age Again?' vibrated through the speakers, setting my teeth together until I was clenching my jaw so hard that I was surprised it didn't crack.

I already had someone ‘teaching' me things. I didn't need another teacher. Correction: I didn't want another teacher.

"We're here," he told me several minutes later, pulling up outside a butcher's store and turning down the radio.

"Here?" I pointed to the sign reading ‘Dunn's Meats.'

He nodded. "Yeah. Make sure they pay you."

I glanced down at the package that had landed on my lap. It was wrapped in plastic, only white paper visible beneath.

"What's this?" I asked, holding it up and testing its weight.

"Why are you asking so many questions today?"

"Someone tossed me into the ocean. It pissed me off."

He blinked, but just as quickly shook off his surprise. He reached over me for the door handle, pushing my door open. "Don't forget the money."

I jumped out and made my way across the street. I felt odd, now that I was outside. I didn't usually wear jeans or sweatshirts until winter. The bulky fabric felt like a hindrance, weighing down my shoulders and hanging over my hands. I set the package down on a bench for a moment, pulling the sweatshirt off. I still had a thin white tank on beneath. It wasn't exactly warm enough for the fall weather, but I preferred to be cold anyway.

I picked up the package again and pushed into Dunn's Meats, casting my eyes around the store. There was a fan mounted on the wall, oscillating languidly. It pushed my hair from my shoulders, drying the perspiration that had begun to gather across the back of my neck from the sweatshirt. There was a young guy behind the counter, his eyes focused on the slab of meat he was cutting up. There was some movement through the plastic curtain leading into a back room, but I couldn't make out how many people were back there. There were no other customers.

"I have a package," I announced, moving to the register, where I could see the guy properly.

He looked up, paused, and then moved to stand opposite me, pulling off his blood-smeared plastic gloves. " Huh?"

"This." I plonked the shrink-wrapped thing onto the counter and folded my arms. I didn't really have any more of an explanation. I should have asked Duke exactly who I was supposed to deliver the package to.

"I see," said the guy, picking up the package and weighing it in his hand, much like I had in the truck. "And who the fuck are you?"

Since he had reacted with such hostility, I took a moment to really examine him. He was younger than Duke, probably around my own age. He had grey eyes, narrowed in suspicion, and there was a small ring in the corner of his lip. A tattoo coiled around his neck, like a collar. His nametag said Trip .

"Grey."

"Grey?" he repeated, dropping the package back to the counter and folding his arms, his posture matching mine. His muscles flexed, drawing my eyes down for a moment. He looked amused, confused, and intrigued by my answer. I wasn't sure why. "Grey—like the colour?"

He looked meaner than Duke.

"Grey—like a grey wolf."

His mouth quirked at the corner, right where the piercing was. He flicked his eyes lower, craning his neck slightly to see the rest of me behind the counter. "I'm not seeing it."

"What? "

"You're a pup, not a wolf."

I wasn't going to play his game. "Duke sent me in."

"You Duke's girlfriend?" He relaxed then, but it seemed put on. The way a wild animal pretended to grow quiet and still right before it attacked.

"We kiss sometimes."

He laughed, his eyes growing lighter for a moment before his hand snaked out, grabbing a hold of my tank. He pulled me up against the counter and then immediately released me, his finger tapping against my lips.

"Do you kiss other people sometimes, too?"

"No."

"Then you're his girlfriend, pup."

He pulled back, grabbed the package and disappeared through the plastic curtain. I should have felt something , just like I should have felt something when Duke kissed me, but I didn't. I was disappointed. Disappointed that Trip had smiled, that he hadn't shouted at me to get out of the shop, that he had spoken so easily to me. He had looked meaner than Duke, but I was just a cynic betting on flaws, bound to be let down by some kind of opposing Murphy's law. It was the world's way of making an impact, I was sure. It would give me nothing bad while I expected nothing good, until I became lulled by the pattern, and then suddenly everything would change, and I would be caught in a storm, unequipped for the sudden reality of my situation.

"I've only got half," he said, reappearing and slapping a stack of bills onto the counter. "You'll have to come back to pick up the rest."

I glanced down, my eyes bugging for a moment. That was a lot of money for a tiny package.

"What's in that?" I asked, jerking my head toward the plastic curtain. He had left the package in the back room.

"He didn't tell you?" Trip arched a brow, apparently surprised. "Sounds like Dick is holding back."

"I'm assuming Dick is?—"

"You assume correctly. And before you ask, it's not a tribute to his assets. It's a lament."

"A lament?" I couldn't help but laugh, even though I didn't feel like it. "That's a fancy word for a butcher-boy."

"You can thank the school we both go to for that."

I pulled back, taking a step away from the counter. "When I came in here, you had no idea who I was."

"I wasn't looking closely. I won't make that mistake again."

"Shouldn't you be at school right now, then?"

"I take Mondays off. I'm guessing that's why Dick brought you here."

"He said he was banned from the shop."

Trip laughed, and the sound carried a hint of derision. "Yeah, I bet he did."

"Whatever." I turned on my heel, making for the doorway.

"Pup?"

I paused, glancing over my shoulder. He was holding the stack of cash.

I returned to the counter with a grimace and took it off him, stuffing the entire wad into the back pocket of my jeans. A big man pushed through the plastic curtain behind Trip, boasting a blood-stained apron and a curious scowl. I didn't want to linger, so I only nodded to him, pulling my sweatshirt back over my head as I exited the store. I tugged the hem down over the bulge of cash and jogged back to where Duke was waiting in his truck.

"He only had half of it," I said, pulling myself up into the passenger seat. "He said you'd have to come back for the rest."

"What the fuck?" Duke rolled his eyes, but there was a tinge of red in his cheeks. He was pissed.

I lifted my hips up from the seat, reaching behind me for the stack of money and dropping it into his lap. I briefly entertained the idea of asking about the package again, but then I realised that I didn't care. My brief curiosity had filtered away, dissolving like sad smoke—inhaled and then exhaled, cast into the breeze.

"Can I go home now?" I asked, though I didn't direct my question toward Duke.

I was too busy staring at the side mirror, my eyes captured by the lighthouse that was barely visible in the distance, its tip rising above the roofs of a few ocean-front shops.

I wished I was running.

I wished Nicholai was tossing me into the ocean again, swearing at me and growling at me and acting like an insane person.

I wished I could replay it over and over until it unravelled enough for me to see it coming before it even happened.

"Soon," Duke mumbled, half of his attention reserved for the passing cars as he attempted to pull out of his parking space and into the lane of traffic again. "You need to deliver a few more packages first."