And through the windows, Auralia could see a man helping Brandy inside. “Oh! Hey!” Auralia called out.
The guy jerked around.
Good guy? Bad guy?
Auralia leaned down and pressed the comms button on Rou’s collar so Creed would have a heads-up.
“Hey there!” she called out. If it were a good guy, he’d need to know what to tell the hospital. If he were a bad guy and he took Brandy away, thinking he’d get some from the girl who looked like she was on drugs, well, Brandy might die. “Hi!” She rounded within view but kept the hood between them.
“Hey,” the guy said and glanced at Brandy, who might be up and walking but was eerily zombie-like.
“I’m part of the rescue effort.” She pointed at Rou then up toward the highway. “Are you part of a first responder group?”
“Me?” He pulled the bill of his hat lower. “No.”
Was he trying to hide his face, or was her headlamp shining in his eyes? There were parking lot lights here, so she reached up and turned off her green light.
Auralia wasn’t sure what to say here. This guy wasn’t offering her any kind of explanation for why he had his hand on Brandy. He simply looked at Auralia as if she were an inconvenience. The whole scene was off, and then it was even more off.
A second pickup roared into the parking lot, heading straight for the first guy’s truck. He came to a squealing stop right before the two vehicles collided.
The door flew open. The man jumped down. “Shane, you no good son of a bitch.”
“How’d you get here?” Shane asked, squaring off.
“'Cause your damned phone is in your cab and Brandy set it up so I could find her when she’s with you.” The new guy stabbed a righteous finger at Brandy, then waggled his own phone, showing a map with a red pin.
Brandy’s set up a “find my” for this guy? So they all knew each other?
Auralia jumped back, pulling Rou around and picking her up. Auralia held Rou in her arms in such a way that the camerafocused on the new guy’s expression; it was one of red-hot anger and cold-hearted loathing.
“I know what you were planning to do, she texted it all to me. Brandy wants none of it.”
Shane took a menacing step forward, blocking New Guy's line of sight to Brandy.
“Tough guy, huh? You think I’m letting you get away with this? You think I’m going to let you enslave Brandy? Hide her away until she’s old and fat and dyes her hair?”
“You’re insane.” Shane hocked up a glob of phlegm and spat it toward New Guy’s feet.
“Brandy,” New Guy said plaintively. “Tell him. Tell him you love me. I saw you get pulled out of the water. I saw them try to take care of you. You should be headed to the hospital, not letting him take you away.”
Brandy was vacant.
New Guy softened his voice to a warm and loving tone, the kind of voice Creed sometimes used when talking to Auralia —a boyfriend voice. “Your mom is fighting for her life on the beach right now,” he cajoled. “She needs a hospital. Snap the hell out of it, baby. You haven’t done anything wrong. This was your parents’ scheme. Come with me and let’s get you some help.” He held out his hand.
Brandy, gripping her Mylar blanket tightly around her, started forward.
“Oh no, you the hell won’t,” Shane yelled, chest puffed out like a rooster, veins popping at his neck, spittle flicking with every syllable.
Shane shoved Brandy back, and she fell against the truck. He didn’t even look to see if she was okay. Bent almost in two, he roared forward like a football player, driving his shoulder into the new guy, shoving him backward.
New Guy took the flats of his hands and slapped them together over Shane’s ears.
A move that did a lot of damage with little effort.
Shane’s head must be spinning.
Then they were at it, wrestling moves, football moves, probably things they’d seen in some kung fu movie.
