Initially, Leigh had thought he was giving her the third degree the same way Linda had but, looking back, she understood that he’d been testing the waters. In law enforcement circles, this was called grooming, and pedophiles followed the same relentlessly predictable playbook.
Buddy had quizzed her on her interests, the subjects she enjoyed in school, joked with her about her seriousness, implied she was smarter than him, more interesting, led a more fascinating life. He wanted to hear all about her. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t like those old farts she had met before. Sure, he was an old fart, too, but he understood what kids were going through. He offered her some weed. She passed. He offered her a drink. She sipped something that tasted like cough syrup and silently pleaded with him to please, please mister, please just let her go home so she could study.
Finally, Buddy had made a big deal about looking at the giant gold watch on his thick wrist. His mouth had dropped open dramatically—wow dolly, where did the time go I could talk to you all night but your mother must be waiting up for you right I bet she’s a real bitch about that always keeping track of you even though you’re practically an adult and you should get to make your own decisions right?
Unthinking, Leigh had rolled her eyes because the only reason her mother would be up was to make sure Leigh handed over the cash she’d made for watching Trevor.
Had Buddy picked up on the eye-roll? All Leigh knew was that everything had changed in that moment. Maybe he was putting together the information he’d gathered. No father. Useless mother. Not many friends at school. Not likely to tell.
He’d started talking about how dark it was outside. How bad the neighborhood was. That maybe it was going to rain. Sure, Leigh lived a ten-minute walk away, but she was too beautiful to be out on her own at night. Tiny little thing like you some bad dude could scoop you up and hide you in his pocket and what about that a fucking tragedy because then Buddy would never be able to see her beautiful little face ever again did she want that to happen he would be heartbroken could she really do such an awful thing to him?
Leigh had felt sick and guilty and shamed and, worst of all, trapped. She’d dreaded the possibility that he was going to insist she stay the night. But then Buddy had told her he would drive her home. She had been so relieved that she hadn’t argued, just grabbed up all her homework and shoved it into her backpack.
The light changed, but Leigh was so lost in thought that it took a moment for her to register the green. Yet another car horn urged her on. She took the turn. Her movements felt robotic as she drove down a shady side street. There was no wind to rustle the trees, but she could hear the rush of air through her open window as she sped down the road.
The Waleskis had a carport on the side of their house. The windows were already rolled down in Buddy’s yellow Corvette when they left by the kitchen door. The car was an older model. Rust rimmed the hood. The paint was faded. A permanent oil stain marked his space on the concrete. The interior had smelled like sweat and cigars and sawdust. He had made a big deal about opening the door for Leigh, flexing his biceps to show her how strong he was. Prince Charming at your service little madam just snap your fingers anytime and your ol’ pal Buddy will be there.
Then he’d walked around to the driver’s side, and her first thought was that he was like a clown jamming himself into a toy car. Buddy was groaning and huffing as he wedged his hulking body behind the wheel. Shoulders hunched. Seat raked back. Leigh could remember watching his enormous hand wrap around the stick shift. The entire gear box had disappeared. He kept his bear paw there, tapping along to the song on the radio.
Callie was haunted by the phantom bleating tone of the operator on the broken kitchen telephone. Leigh was haunted by Buddy’s creaky falsetto as he sang along with Hall & Oates’ “Kiss on My List.”
They were two minutes into the trip when, in the dim orange light of the radio, Buddy’s hand wandered in her direction. He kept his eyes straight ahead, but his fingers tapped on her knee the same as they had on the shifter.
I like this song do you like this song dolly I bet you do but I wonder have you ever kissed a boy do you know what that feels like?
Leigh was paralyzed, trapped in the bucket seat, sweat melding her skin into the cracked leather. Buddy’s hand didn’t leave her knee as he slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. She recognized the Deguils’ house. She had babysat for their daughter, Heidi, a few times last summer. Their front porch light was on.
That’s okay little girl don’t be scared your ol’ pal Buddy would never hurt you okay but Jesus your skin is so soft I can feel the peach fuzz you’re almost like a baby.