“Mom, stop!”
Smirking, Mom shuts the laptop with a triumphant snap.“See what I mean?And guess what?Laura Beecham says that Michelle told her that?—”
“Ugh, Mom.Please spare me all the details your cougar friends told you.”I might be twenty-eight years old, but I’m still squeamish when it comes to my mother’s nocturnal activities.
Mom slaps my arm lightly.“Don’t be rude about my friends.They say Landslide gets regular skyquakes, so…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”Holding my hand up, palm out, I stop Mom in her tracks.“What were Cougar Central—Michelle and Laura—doing researching Landslide as a holiday destination?”
When she hangs her head, I know I’ve hit a weak spot in my mother’s armor.
I try to be a loving and understanding daughter, Ireallytry, but the eighteen-year age gap I have with my exuberant mom sometimes forces me to play the role of parent.
“Full disclosure, Aila?Okay.Landslide is meant to have asmorgasbordof bachelors living there.”Closing her eyes, my mom wriggles with blissful anticipation.“Hiding in between all of those ‘lovely, unplugged, back-to-nature vacation’ online reviews, the girls and I discovered a few juicy details…”
I wait for the hammer to fall, just like I knew it would.
“Landslide has less than half a dozen women living on it and close to fifteensinglemen!I like those odds, don’t you?”
No.I do not like those statistics at all.I have major trust issues after that crazy night at Harry’s Saloon.I handed in my notice the second my mom broke up with Si LeBlanc because he refused to pay for a bouncer to stand guard in the parking lot.
I have lost a lot of sleep over what happened that night.It was nearly four years ago, but it still haunts me.
Flashy Belt Buckle had dropped off the face of the earth.If the motorhome hadn’t been gone when I returned to work the following evening (that, and the bruises on my wrists), I might have brushed it off as a figment of my imagination.
“Fine, Mom.Whatever makes you happy.”When I put my headphones back on, my mother thinks I have zoned out.
She could not be more wrong.
My mind has flipped back the pages of time, straight to the night after my encounter with the man and the motorhome…
I paid the man’s three-hundred-dollar bar tab out of the two thousand dollars I found blowing around in the parking lot.That money was the only reason why I did not call the cops.
Somehow, I managed to get through the rest of the shift by coasting on auto, even though my wrists were painfully abraded from where the man with the motorhome had grabbed me.
Leaving Si to lock up after I cashed out the till, I found myself reluctant to walk back to the motel.That’s where I had a free room in exchange for maid service during the day.
After the attack, everything seemed frightening to me.The forest, the gloomy parking lot, the badly lit road stretching into darkness.As tired as I was, I did not want to walk back alone.Standing in the entranceway, I peered at the motorhome.
Come on, you fucking perverted creep!Show me some sign that you are hanging around for a second try!
But the RV was as still as the grave.Not even a twitch of velour curtain betrayed Belt Buckle’s presence inside.
I was thanking my lucky stars that my attacker was probably sleeping it off when Bobby came outside and caught me dithering on the doorstep.
“You good, Aila?”
Walking beside Bobby, I secretly flipped the bird at the motorhome as we passed it.But it was what happened in my motel room that night that sticks in my brain.More than the attack, more than my unexpected windfall of money.
I had some kind of crazy nightmare.Or maybe it was a dream.
To this day, I blame my disturbed sleep on that stranger.The Midnight Son.Theron Rabane.
He was the sort of man who leaves a lasting impression, believe me.
The clock on my phone showed midnight when I sat up in bed.Someone had disturbed the shaft of moonlight falling across my bed cover.A shadow flickered as it blocked out the porch light.
A mirage at the window solidified into a familiar face.
