Taut: The Ford Book
Page 29
“I can’t find that yellow ducky.” She pops up again, her face all blotchy and her eyes red. “Have you seen it?”
“Yeah, I gave it back to you at the motel, remember?”
“I know, but it’s gone!” She dives back down into the van.
I walk over and take her by the arm. “Ashleigh. Stop.” She pulls away and starts to climb over the seat to the third row. I grab her by the waist and haul her out, then push her against the van and hold her there by the shoulders. “What. The f**k. Are you doing?” The tears start to roll and then she just looks down and hides her face from me. “Answer me, dammit.”
She wipes her face and drags her sleeve across her nose. “I just need that ducky, that’s all. I need it.”
OK—I take a deep breath because I know mania when I see it. “You put it in the diaper bag, Ash,” I say softly. “I saw you. Did you take it out?”
She shakes her head.
“OK, then let’s go look inside. It’s cold out here and the baby is crying. Can’t you hear her?”
Ash tilts her head like she’s listening and then she looks up at me with her watery eyes. “I can hear her.”
“Good, you go take care of her and I’ll check the diaper bag. Where is it?”
I pull her inside with me and catch her answer between screams. “The bedroom.”
She picks up the baby and I watch her for a second, just to make sure. But she seems fine as she slides the baby up to her breast and sits on the couch to feed her. The screaming lessens as the baby latches on and then everything goes silent except for Ashleigh’s sniffles.
Fuck. Women and their drama. Over a stupid toy.
I go into the bedroom and it’s a total catastrophe. Clothes are everywhere, diapers are spilling out of the package, a few toys are scattered around. And that diaper bag is upside down in the middle of the floor. I kneel down and shuffle through it, but there’s no yellow duck. I don’t know how the f**k she can find anything in here, and now that I think of it, I’m wondering if she’s not having some trouble holding things together. She’s a single mom for whatever reason. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but it’s got to be tough to handle an infant alone. Plus she’s stuck here in a strange place with a guy who’s been f**king with her head. And all those post-baby making hormones are probably still in her system.
It’s a miracle she’s not batshit crazy already.
I stuff all the clothes on the floor into the hamper in the closet, then pick up all the diapers and stack them on the dresser. I sort through her diaper bag and nope, that duck is not in there. So I fill that up with baby toys and straighten out the bed a little. That’s a huge improvement. I pick up her winter coat and the yellow duck is lying underneath. I hang the coat up on the hook near the bedroom door. I walk back to the living room holding out the duck as I come towards her.
She bursts into tears and takes it from me.
Oh, f**k. Manic tears I can handle, but I don’t do I’m crazy-depressed-sad-happy-worried tears. I really don’t. But I’m pretty good at making girls shut up when they’re crying. So I try that route. “Ashleigh,” I say firmly. She looks up, muttering out some thank yous. “You’re not allowed to cry around me, I hate it. It bugs the shit out of me. If you don’t stop, I’ll bend you over my knee and smack your ass so I can give you a good reason to cry. At least then I’ll get some pleasure out of it.”
She stares up at me, speechless. Then she blinks. “What?”
I laugh. “That got your attention.”
Her chest hitches a few times as she takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” she mumbles.
I take a seat on the couch and watch her watch me as she feeds the baby. “Where were you headed, Ashleigh? When you broke down?” She makes a face and shakes her head. “What? Why are you shaking your head at me?”
She ignores me.
“Ashleigh, where are you going? And for that matter, where the hell did you come from?” I wish I had looked at her car closer, to see the plates. But either I was too distracted by my own circumstances or the snow was covering it up, so I never noticed.
She cuddles the baby and whispers in her ear for a few seconds and then she looks up at me with that smile she smiles when she’s being overly polite. “Look, I understand you might be freaked out about my little… emotional display… but I’m fine. OK? I’m fine. I’m just…” She stops and takes a deep breath. “Exhausted. I’m tired. I’m running on no sleep, I’m stressed, I’m hungry, I’m desperately in need of a shower, I smell like spit-up, and that stupid toy means a lot to me. OK?” She stares at me, calm but frowning.
I wait for her to look away before I speak and bring her attention back to me. “Got it. Now, answer my questions.”
“Or what?” she challenges.
“Or nothing. You can choose not to answer, it’s your decision. But if you refuse, I’m going to call Jason, get your plate number, hack into every f**king DMV in the US, and figure out who the f**k you are.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Good luck with that.”
“I’ll let that pass, since you don’t know who I am. And I would have to go back to Denver and grab my own laptop to make sure the connection is secure. I’ll take you with me, by the way. So if you think I’m gonna leave you here alone, you’re wrong. And then I’ll f**king get that data right in front of you. Or I can just call up Mrs. f**king Pearson and have her tell you some more stories about how I f**ked with the virtual lives of anyone who crossed me as a teenager.” I wait a few beats as she tries to decide if I’m telling the truth. “But either way, it’s a two-hour drive to Denver, tops. I’ll know who you are in three hours or less, because I already have code written for the DMV search. I can do that shit with my eyes closed.”
“Yeah, I gave it back to you at the motel, remember?”
“I know, but it’s gone!” She dives back down into the van.
I walk over and take her by the arm. “Ashleigh. Stop.” She pulls away and starts to climb over the seat to the third row. I grab her by the waist and haul her out, then push her against the van and hold her there by the shoulders. “What. The f**k. Are you doing?” The tears start to roll and then she just looks down and hides her face from me. “Answer me, dammit.”
She wipes her face and drags her sleeve across her nose. “I just need that ducky, that’s all. I need it.”
OK—I take a deep breath because I know mania when I see it. “You put it in the diaper bag, Ash,” I say softly. “I saw you. Did you take it out?”
She shakes her head.
“OK, then let’s go look inside. It’s cold out here and the baby is crying. Can’t you hear her?”
Ash tilts her head like she’s listening and then she looks up at me with her watery eyes. “I can hear her.”
“Good, you go take care of her and I’ll check the diaper bag. Where is it?”
I pull her inside with me and catch her answer between screams. “The bedroom.”
She picks up the baby and I watch her for a second, just to make sure. But she seems fine as she slides the baby up to her breast and sits on the couch to feed her. The screaming lessens as the baby latches on and then everything goes silent except for Ashleigh’s sniffles.
Fuck. Women and their drama. Over a stupid toy.
I go into the bedroom and it’s a total catastrophe. Clothes are everywhere, diapers are spilling out of the package, a few toys are scattered around. And that diaper bag is upside down in the middle of the floor. I kneel down and shuffle through it, but there’s no yellow duck. I don’t know how the f**k she can find anything in here, and now that I think of it, I’m wondering if she’s not having some trouble holding things together. She’s a single mom for whatever reason. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but it’s got to be tough to handle an infant alone. Plus she’s stuck here in a strange place with a guy who’s been f**king with her head. And all those post-baby making hormones are probably still in her system.
It’s a miracle she’s not batshit crazy already.
I stuff all the clothes on the floor into the hamper in the closet, then pick up all the diapers and stack them on the dresser. I sort through her diaper bag and nope, that duck is not in there. So I fill that up with baby toys and straighten out the bed a little. That’s a huge improvement. I pick up her winter coat and the yellow duck is lying underneath. I hang the coat up on the hook near the bedroom door. I walk back to the living room holding out the duck as I come towards her.
She bursts into tears and takes it from me.
Oh, f**k. Manic tears I can handle, but I don’t do I’m crazy-depressed-sad-happy-worried tears. I really don’t. But I’m pretty good at making girls shut up when they’re crying. So I try that route. “Ashleigh,” I say firmly. She looks up, muttering out some thank yous. “You’re not allowed to cry around me, I hate it. It bugs the shit out of me. If you don’t stop, I’ll bend you over my knee and smack your ass so I can give you a good reason to cry. At least then I’ll get some pleasure out of it.”
She stares up at me, speechless. Then she blinks. “What?”
I laugh. “That got your attention.”
Her chest hitches a few times as she takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” she mumbles.
I take a seat on the couch and watch her watch me as she feeds the baby. “Where were you headed, Ashleigh? When you broke down?” She makes a face and shakes her head. “What? Why are you shaking your head at me?”
She ignores me.
“Ashleigh, where are you going? And for that matter, where the hell did you come from?” I wish I had looked at her car closer, to see the plates. But either I was too distracted by my own circumstances or the snow was covering it up, so I never noticed.
She cuddles the baby and whispers in her ear for a few seconds and then she looks up at me with that smile she smiles when she’s being overly polite. “Look, I understand you might be freaked out about my little… emotional display… but I’m fine. OK? I’m fine. I’m just…” She stops and takes a deep breath. “Exhausted. I’m tired. I’m running on no sleep, I’m stressed, I’m hungry, I’m desperately in need of a shower, I smell like spit-up, and that stupid toy means a lot to me. OK?” She stares at me, calm but frowning.
I wait for her to look away before I speak and bring her attention back to me. “Got it. Now, answer my questions.”
“Or what?” she challenges.
“Or nothing. You can choose not to answer, it’s your decision. But if you refuse, I’m going to call Jason, get your plate number, hack into every f**king DMV in the US, and figure out who the f**k you are.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Good luck with that.”
“I’ll let that pass, since you don’t know who I am. And I would have to go back to Denver and grab my own laptop to make sure the connection is secure. I’ll take you with me, by the way. So if you think I’m gonna leave you here alone, you’re wrong. And then I’ll f**king get that data right in front of you. Or I can just call up Mrs. f**king Pearson and have her tell you some more stories about how I f**ked with the virtual lives of anyone who crossed me as a teenager.” I wait a few beats as she tries to decide if I’m telling the truth. “But either way, it’s a two-hour drive to Denver, tops. I’ll know who you are in three hours or less, because I already have code written for the DMV search. I can do that shit with my eyes closed.”
