His Favorite Girl (16 page)

I'd been waiting for him to pause so I could ask a question.

"Where was Mr. Shriver in all this?"

"When I was ten?  Well let's see . . . he'd already graduated from business school, so yeah, he was working for Dad's company by then.  I never saw him.  When he came to the house, he was a stranger to us.  Just one of Dad's employees."

That made a lot of sense, but something else didn't.

"If Brian's supposed to be the smartest, why didn't your dad leave the company to him?"

Silence for a moment while Patton thought.  "Two reasons, I think.  One, Mr. Shriver was the rightful heir in my father's eyes.  The oldest.  But I also remember him saying that a creative mind can't run a business anymore than an analytical mind can invent a product.  If anything, my father had more time invested in Mr. Shriver than the rest of--"

"Okay, enough with the Mr. Shriver shit.  Sorry, but I can't take it anymore.  What's the asshole's name?"

Patton looked down at the table, clearly embarrassed.

"Okay," he said.  "My father had more time invested in Gene than the rest of us."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

He glared at me.  I shrunk away immediately, feeling hurt.  "You have no idea what he's like, Melissa."

"Oh really?" I said, getting a little too loud but not caring.  All I could think about was Flora--my first Flora--and the look on her face when Sean slit her throat.  "No idea, huh?  Not a
fucking inkling?"

"No!"
  He slammed his fist on the table, rattling our plates and silverware and drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant.  Then he closed his eyes and put his hands flat on the table, taking a deep breath.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I know you've seen him order Sean to do terrible things."  He leaned in close, whispering.  "But I'm telling you--and I hope you never have to see it--Mr. Shri . . .
Gene
. . . he really is my father's heir, in personality, in spirit, in every way possible.  If you'd seen some of the things I've seen, you'd call him Daddy if he said so."

"What things?" I asked reluctantly.

He shook his head.  "We need to get back on the road."

He called the waitress over to ask for the check.  Her hand shook as she lay it face-down on the table.  She walked away briskly.

Patton looked at the check and pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.

"How much is the bill?"

"That's the business of the person paying," he said.

"How much?" I repeated.

"Fifteen forty-two."

"Uh-uh, no way."

"What?"

"Patton, you are
not
leaving that girl a four-dollar tip."

He smiled.  "You're mad because she ignored you."

"No, dumbass, I mean you better leave her
more
than that.  You're a fucking millionaire.  Do you have any idea the shit waitresses have to put up with?  If you've got money, you don't just tip well--you make up for all the pieces of shit who
don't
tip."  I looked away, shaking my head.  "Fucking rich people.  Jesus."

"Will this suffice?"

I turned.  During my rant, he'd laid another hundred dollars on top of the check.

"That'll do," I said.

We were both in a bitter mood now, and the next several hours passed in silence, except for the radio playing at low volume.  I fell asleep twice, but mostly I stared out the window at the increasingly flat fields.

I didn't even know we were through
Illinois until we hit the Iowa state line and crossed through Davenport.  I slept through the entire state, waking to signs for Omaha, Nebraska.  Here the corn fields consisted of low, lumpy hills, clustered here and there with trees.

It was late in the afternoon and we were both hungry again.  This time we went through a drive-thru at a fast food place I'd never heard of and sat in the parking lot to eat.  In the corner of the lot, a group of road workers were sprawled out under a tree, some of them eating, some of them smoking cigarettes.  While I choked down my greasy chicken strips, I fantasized about jumping out of the car and screaming that I'd been kidnapped, just to see how they'd react.  They were all big, burly men.

What would Patton do in that situation?  Drive off and leave me?  Would he be able to deal with half a dozen men who were each twice his size?

Why did the prospect thrill me so much?

"I have to pee," I said.

Patton waved me off with a mouthful of food, so I stepped out into the blazing heat and
started across the parking lot, glancing over at the road workers.

One of them was staring at me.  I probably looked ridiculous wearing pajama pants this time of
day--and in public, no less.  Then he slapped one of his buddies on the arm and pointed at me, I turned and rushed into the restaurant.

I sat in the bathroom for ten minutes after I'd peed and washed my hands, enjoying the cool air and the privacy.  I read all the little messages scrawled in pen or marker or scratched into the tile wall.

Tina sux dick.

Fuck Obama.

EAT SHIT.

Hell is real.

For a good time, call . . .

Someone knocked impatiently so I opened the door and jumped aside as a skinny, leathery-skinned woman in a neon green tank top forced her way past me, mumbling something rude.

Out in the parking lot, the road workers were more boisterous than before.  When one of them spotted me, he called out, "Hey, darlin'!"

I waved politely but kept my head down.

Until another said, "Lemme see them titties!"

I don't know what got into me, but I stopped, turned to the men, and headed in their direction.  They laughed as I approached, surprised by this turn of events.

"What's your name, baby?" said the one who'd first stared at me.

"Melissa."

"Nice to meet you, Melissa."

"You guys want to see my tits, right?"

That stunned them, and for a moment each was afraid to be the first to speak.

I raised my shirt up to m
y neck, showing them my breasts, and immediately heard Patton's car door open.

"Nice," someone mumbled.

"You want more?" I asked.

"Hell yeah!"
said another.

Their faces were full of eagerness, excitement.  Something they could tell their friends over cheap beer for years and years to come.  Most of them had wedding rings on their fingers.  They would most likely go home this evening expecting sex from wives who weren't in the mood--who hadn't been in the mood for a very long time.

This wasn't a treat to these men.  It was punishment for their unsuspecting wives.  Punishment for staying in unhappy marriages.  For reminding me of myself.

Just as I hooked my thumb in the seam of my pants and started to pull down, I felt Patton's strong hand hook me by the arm and pull.

"Let's go," he said.

He led me to the car and placed me inside like a police officer arresting a criminal.

When he climbed in and closed the door, he immediately asked, "Why the hell did you do that?"

"They asked to see my tits."

"Melissa!"

"What Patton?"

He sighed.  "Nothing."

Then he pulled out.

When the bitchiness started to wear off, my mind replaced it with guilt.  I'd hurt Patton's feelings, putting him in that position.

"I don't know why I did it," I said to kill the silence.  We were somewhere in the middle of
Nebraska, surrounded by corn fields.  I'd never seen such a big sky.

"That makes two of us," Patton said.

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head.  "You don't answer to me."

"Yes I do."

"No you don't."

"So if I want you to pull over and let me out, you will."

He answered by hitting the brakes and stopping in the gravel emergency lane, kicking up dust all around the car.  We sat there for a moment, me staring at Patton, Patton staring out the window, refusing to look at me.

"If you want to go, then go.  I won't stop you.  I can't promise Sean won't come after you, but I'm not your warden.  If you think of me that way, you might as well get out.  But I don't want to control you.  I don't want to see you hurt.  I'll even buy you a car.  Well, we can't put it in your name."

"Wait, what?  Why not?"

He finally looked at me.  "You and your husband are both considered missing persons.  The minute you show up somewhere alive and Ted is still missing, you'll become a murder suspect."

"Great," I said, slapping my knee.  "That's just fucking perfect.  So even if I do get out of this mess one day, I'll pretty much be walking right into prison."

"So long as Gene still owns the company."

Gene.  At least Patton was trying to make me happy.

"Or Brian," I said.

Patton smirked.  "Brian doesn't have it in him.  He's smarter than any of us, sure, but he's a child.
  He spends too much energy throwing hissy fits and not enough formulating a solid plan.  He'll never outmaneuver Gene."

"So why did you even include him?"

"To keep an eye on him.  To keep him in check."

I wanted to tell him what Judy had told me, that Brian was planning something on the same day Patton was to interview this professor for Judy's replacement.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

To be honest, I wanted it to happen, whatever he was planning.  It was a chance.  What if I
spilled the beans to Patton and we went straight back to Your Favorite Girl, Inc., only to find after we'd thwarted Brian's efforts that the result would have been positive?  The death of Mr. Shriver . . . Gene . . . whatever his name was.  Maybe even Sean as an added bonus.

"It's been that way my whole life, really."

"What?"

"Having to keep an eye on Brian."

"What do you mean?"

He pulled back out on the road, accelerating slowly.  Not that it mattered.  There were no other cars in either direction all the way to the horizon.

"You want to hear a story?"

"Sure."

"Okay, here goes.  One afternoon, Sean brought a girl home from school.  Her name was Betsy.  A senior but underdeveloped for her age.  A notorious virgin, strict religious parents.  One of those quiet, well-behaved students who gets picked on for no reason, you know?  A little homely about the face, but she had a nice body under the thick wool skirt she wore every day."

"God, what did he do to her?  Kill the suspense and just tell me."

"Clifton used to call Sean the Devirginizer.  It was his hobby all through high school.  Charm some poor innocent girl, bring her home, and coerce her into sex.  Our father was proud of him.  They'd even have a drink together after the girl left."

"I'm gonna kill this fucker."

"This girl, though, she refused him.  Not an easy thing to do, even when Sean was a teenager.  He's always had an intimidating presence.  That's why so many girls gave him to him."

"But not this girl," I said hopefully.

"No."

"So what happened?"

"Sean kicked her out."

"Is that it?"

"No.  Not in the least."

I waited, realizing that my questions were nothing but interruptions.

Patton continued:  "Brian went out and followed her.  We lived in this rich suburb with lots of parks and wooded areas, and the path Betsy took from our house to hers was perfect for someone who's up to no good.  Not that she'd think anything of it.  He was ten years old, for God's sake."  He paused.  "A ten-year-old boy genius with a chemistry set."

I knew something bad was coming.

"I still don't know why he did it," Patton said.  "Maybe there is no reason.  Brian has a jealous personality, and I guess he was happy to see Sean fail for once.  Maybe he was trying to impress our father.  I guess I'll never know."

"Well?"

He was stalling.  When he glanced at me, his eyes told of his regret for having brought it up.

"He threw hydrochloric acid in her face, and when she fell to the ground he knelt beside her and lit her wool skirt on fire."

─Asphalt─

WE SHARED a king-sized bed in Cheyenne, Wyoming, both of us too exhausted for sex.  The room had a hot tub and a mini-bar, neither of which we touched.  It was a very nice hotel with a bed almost as good as the one waiting for me back at Your Favorite Girl, Inc., but I tossed and turned all night.  Probably restless from having dosed off so many times in the car.

I awoke looking straight at t
he old-fashioned phone on the nightstand, recalling immediately what I'd promised Flora.  When I turned over, Patton was sitting at the edge of the bed, already dressed.

He broke the bad news by simply shaking his head.

"She's gonna be so worried."

"She'll be fine."

"You keep saying that.  Like you fucking know."

"Sleep okay?"

"Not really."

I showered and dressed, this time in jeans.  Down in the lobby
we ate donuts and pastries with foreign names at the continental breakfast bar.

Then we
got back on the road.

The entire day consisted of small-talk, rehashing the same discussions about Flora, Brian, Sean, Mr. Shriver, Kate,
Clifton--everyone and everything.  I actually started to get bored at times and found myself wishing I was back at the company.  Partly because my worry for Flora and Judy lingered like a spot in my vision, but mostly I think I'd grown accustomed to having a problem to deal with.

Out here, a thousand miles away from my problems and climbing, I couldn't do a thing.

We were half an hour past the Utah-Nevada border when Patton broke a long silence.  The road was being repaved and orange and white barrels ran along the center line, forcing us to drive halfway in the emergency lane, right tires grinding on the grooves etched into the side of the road to alert inattentive drivers.  It had been this way for at least fifty miles, making it difficult for me to enjoy the scenery: tufts of yellow grass scattered throughout the rocks and sand, with jagged black mountains in every direction and a deep blue sky overhead.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Where did you hide Judy?"

The question threw me off guard, so I hesitated.  The hesitation itself proved to him that I
had
been the one to hide her, but for some reason I still didn't want to tell him where.

"You need to talk to her or something?"

He smirked.  "Playing hardball, huh?  You know you can trust me with it."

"It's better for you if you don't know."

"Or maybe you don't trust me."

"Maybe not."

"But why?  What have I done to make you distrust me?"

"You haven't done anything, Patton.  Put yourself in my position.  Whether you like it or not, I
am
your prisoner.  You own part of this company.  And until I'm free--really, truly free--I can't fully trust you.  It's nothing personal.  I want to trust you.  Right now I just can't."

More nodding, this time with squinty eyes that looked a little glossy.

Something about the look on his face made me think about his conversation with the eldest non-graduate Flora, her confession of undying love to him, their solitude, his emotional reaction, his refusal of her.  I'd been so moved by that moment, I sat through an hour-long dinner with lingerie under my coat and the person I hated the most in the world sitting across the table just so I could jump Patton's bones.

One thing had never occurred to me:  Patton's rejection wasn't a choice.  She had to remain a virgin.  He loved her, yes, because no one could resist loving Flora.  That wasn't the issue.

The issue was sex.

What would he have done if he'd had the option?

These are the thoughts of psycho girlfriends, I know, but it's not every day a girl finds herself dating an eighty-eight-year-old man who looks thirty.  His beautiful face, his rock-hard body, even his erect-on-command penis were all one big lie.

And he'd fucked the original Flora, whose name, conveniently enough, had been Melissa.

Did that mean he'd only developed a crush on me because I reminded him of her?

Did he make that up completely?

Whatever spin I put on it, it sounded bad.

"Well, I hope you've got her somewhere safe," Patton finally said.

"I do."

"Do you think they'll find her?"

"Are they even looking anymore?"

"I don't know."

"What will they do if they find her?"

"That's probably up to Brian and how much he needs her for his research."

The research, the subject that had frightened Judy half to death.

"I'll make you a deal," I said.

"Okay."

"I'll tell you where Judy is if you tell me about Brian's research."

"I don't know anything about it."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing.  No one knows.  Not even Mr. Shriver."

"Judy told me Mr. Shriver doesn't know, but I figured since you and Brian are in cahoots, maybe you were working on something together."

He shook his head.  "He won't tell me a thing."

"And yet you trusted him."

"I never said I trusted him."

"You don't conspire with people you don't trust.  I thought you were supposed to be a genius."

"I couldn't go at it alone.  Brian has power that I lack."

It wasn't just that.  Brian was his little brother.  He loved him.  Probably the only one in the family with the capacity for love, and that must be the worst kind of torture, clinging to a familial connection that no one else in your bloodline shares.

I reached over and started massaging his crotch, making him jump from surprise.  He said nothing, so I continued until I felt him growing hard.  Then I unbuttoned his pants and pulled it out, leaning far over the middle console to put it in my mouth.

"This is illegal, you know.  I'm not very coordinated when it comes to road head."

I raised my head, stroking him.

"Pull over then."

He did so immediately.  I jumped out of the car, shut the door, and stood there undressing while he watched through the tinted window, completely dumbfounded.

I walked around to the driver's side completely naked, the asphalt warm on my bare feet, a cool breeze providing a nice contrast to the glare of the sun.

"Get out."

He stepped out of the car, stuffing his penis back in his pants and leaving the door open.

"Lie down."

"On the road?"

"You prefer the gravel?"

He looked both ways, but the road was empty for miles, and when he lay down, I straddled him, pulled his dick back out, and lowered m
yself onto it, my shins on the warm pavement, my hands on his shirt, still cool from the car's air conditioner.

Patton lay there staring up at the sky while I humped him slowly, rotating my pelvis, arching my back, squeezing my breasts and then letting my hand coast down my abdomen to rest on my hip bone, but only for a moment.  As I masturbated atop him, he still gazed at the thin tufts of clouds, all motionless, so high you couldn't see the depth of them.  They might as well be painted on a canvas.

I looked out at the endless stretch of road, facing east, and saw a tiny blip on the horizon.  A vehicle of some sort, glimmering in the sunlight, still miles away.

"Someone's coming," I moaned.

His body vibrated as he laughed.  "You or me?"

I pointed, even though from his vantage he wouldn't be able to see.

"Someone's coming," I repeated, increasing my speed but only so much.  I didn't care if anyone saw us.  We were anonymous out here, ghosts to the world, just two sweaty, writhing bodies affixed in animalistic lust, as natural as the midair fucking of dragonflies.

I wondered if any other couples in the world were having sex on a road somewhere.

Then I tried to imagine how many people were having sex period.

Millions?

What if you grouped them all together into one massive orgy?  Would it be enough people to fill a city?  A county?  A state?  Swarms of glistening legs and arms and midriffs and breasts and asses whose moaning and grunting and screaming all culminate to the sound of a beehive.

It was an RV, close enough now that it wasn't distorted by heat waves and mirages.

It stopped several hundred yards away and just sat there, waiting.

Probably a family on vacation, the husband in the driver's seat and the wife coming to ask why he'd stopped.  He was probably telling
her to keep the kids in the back--or were the husband and wife watching me together, with no children to protect from something they didn't need to see?

I waved at the RV right before I turned my face up to the sky and came.