Free Bottom Feeder by Maria G. Cope Page B

the
incubus.”

 
    Jackson
     
    I greet Mama with a kiss on the cheek.
“You have to stop leaving the door unlocked. This might be a nice
neighborhood, but you can’t trust people anymore.”
    She rolls her eyes. “You sound like
Maddy.”
    I don’t ask what she means. I’ve been
home less than twenty-four hours and most of that time has revolved
around that girl. She is becoming an involuntary
obsession.
    Speaking of Maddy, I need to get out
the ironing board. Just because I’m being forced to take her out
doesn’t mean I have to go wrinkled.
    I had no plans of going on a date this
weekend, so the only clothes in my duffle bag are jeans and
t-shirts. I rummage through the closet without any luck. I open the
top dresser drawer. Staring back at me are two pajama short sets,
two matching bra and panty sets and a travel bag filled with
toiletries.
    The bra and
panties, I hope ,
are too risqué for Mama. I shudder at the thought. Out of
curiosity, I check the bra size. Mother of God.
    Close the drawer.
    Open it.
    Peek further inside.
    Yep. Still there.
    I gape at the lacey material as if it
will suddenly answer my questions.
    “ Drool much?” Mama asks
from the hallway.
    “ Please tell me these aren’t yours.”
    “ And if they are?” she
asks, placing her hands on her hips. “I can rock that just as good
as the next fort—er, thirty-something.”
    I stare at her in horror. “Too much
information is just too much information.”
    Another eye roll. “Maddy sleeps here
sometimes. On the couch.”
    “ Maddy?”
    “ Be careful. Your eyes are
liable to bug outta your head if you stare too hard.”
    I hold them up to her.
    Mama raises her hands in surrender.
“She doesn’t get to enjoy much in life, Jackson. That girl has been
broken down so much that I’m afraid she’ll never see how beautiful
she is.”
    After Mama goes to work, I drift into
a restless sleep until after seven.
    So many questions come to mind while
driving to Hettie’s.
    Is this a date? She probably considers
this a date. Does it matter if it’s a date?
    Should I kiss her? No, probably not.
Kissing is nice. Maybe.
    Do I report back to Cordell when the
assigned task is complete? Why am I thinking of a human being as an
assigned task?
    The most important
question: why am I nervous ?

Maddy
     
    The movie Dixon
picked justsohappened to be about a mythical species that preys on unsuspecting
people by taking advantage of and sucking the lives from
them.
    Not a coincidence.
    Jackson pulls into a parking space as
I am locking my bicycle at the rack. He is clad in the standard
attire for Hettie’s: linen khaki shorts, flip flops, and a white
long sleeve button-down with the sleeves rolled up to slightly
below his elbows, displaying the impressive cords of muscles in his
forearms.
    “ God almighty Jesus in a
crumb cake,” I mumble under my breath.
    Dixon scowls, cutting a sideways glare
at me.
    “ Play nice,” I mutter
through clenched teeth.
    Jackson smiles. “You look
pretty.”
    Even though the line isn’t genuine,
darnnit if he doesn’t look good delivering it. He could recite the
alphabet and I would probably swoon. Pathetic.
    “ She always looks beautiful ,” Dixon snaps,
crossing his arms and widening his stance.
    Oh, he
can not be
serious.
    The look on Jackson’s face is a mix of
incredulous amusement with a hint of anger. Not a good start for my
first . . . wait . . . is this a date?
    No. Maybe. No, probably not.
Definitely not.
    “ Thank you.” I turn to
Dixon. “Thanks for the movie and dropping me off. I’ll get my
duffle tomorrow.”
    Giving me one last scowl,
Dixon drops his arms and huffs away to his truck. He has decided
not to stay at the beach. He refuses to be, and I quote, “ within a mile of the
incubus glamouring unsuspecting victims.”
    “ Two dates in one day?”
Jackson asks, opening the door to Hettie’s.
    I laugh at the thought of considering
Dixon my date.
    “ What’s so
funny?”
    We walk up a set of