Feels like Trouble (Lake Fisher 4)

“You guys are gross,” I tell them.

“I think they’re sweet,” Grady says, a small smile playing around his full lips. He looks from Junior to Barbara-Claire and back. “I want to be you guys when I grow up.”

“Like that’ll ever happen,” I mutter.

Grady glares at me but doesn’t say anything more.

Suddenly, Mr. Jacobson blows a whistle, getting everyone’s attention in the staging area, which is just an old game room that has been converted for the night so everyone can get dressed. “We start in five minutes!” he calls out. He looks down at his clipboard and starts calling out numbers. “Turn one!” he calls, and a woman steps forward. He looks over her costume and jerks his thumb toward the door when he deems it to be adequate. “Turn two!”

“That’s us!” Barbara-Claire grabs Junior’s arm and they step forward. Mr. Jacobson approves of them too, and they are as excited as children as they head off toward the maze.

After he goes down the whole list of about twenty turns in the maze, he finally gets to me and Grady. “You two ready?” he asks us.

“Ready as we’re going to be,” Grady replies. He picks up his chainless chain saw and follows me to the back side of the maze, where there’s a little alcove of hay bales placed so that we can hide between runs.

We step back there and Grady leans against the hay wall, staring at me.

“How much do you weigh?

” Grady asks.

I suck in a breath. “Fuck you, Grady.”

“Well, I’ve got to pick your ass up again and again and drag you back in here,” he says. “Just want to know what I’m working with.”

“It’s not my fault you have puny little muscles,” I toss at him.

He flexes his arm, which is bare because he’s wearing a dirty tank top with work coveralls tied around his waist, kind of like Jason got half undressed and then changed his mind. “My muscles are not puny,” he replies indignantly.

“No, just your dick.”

His eyes narrow at me. “You didn’t have a single solitary complaint the last time you got close to it.”

“And that’s all I did, wasn’t it?” I sneer. “I got close to it. Because that’s what you do, Grady. You let women get close to you and then you shoo them off.” I make a shooing motion with my hands. “You’re afraid to commit.”

He shoves off the wall of hay bales and stalks closer to me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You did it with your last girlfriend, Grady,” I explain slowly, mainly because I want to get under his skin. “Then you did it to me. You made me fall in fucking love with you and then you vanished.”

He stares at me. “I did not vanish.”

“Then what would you call it?”

“I had some things to do!” he cries.

“And not one of them was me,” I toss back. I open my eyes wide and stare at him defiantly.

He nods. “Nice. Real nice, Clifford.”

“How would you explain it, then, Grady?” I ask, tilting my head. “If it’s not commitment phobia, can you explain to me why you have such a hard time following through?” I look down towards his crotch. “If you didn’t want sex with me, you could have just said so.” I watch his cheeks turn pink, even there in the dark. I can see him by the glow of the fluorescent glow sticks stuck at intervals through the maze. “What’s wrong, Grady?” I ask in a sing-song voice. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Do you ever shut up?” he says.

I don’t answer, because the answer is obvious.

“Hey! You two! Save it for later,” Mr. Jacobson calls out. “You guys are up!”

Mr. Jacobson blows his whistle and Grady starts up his chain saw. I stand up, ready to run. I’m supposed to run screaming from the maze, toward where people are waiting in line. Grady is supposed to chase after me with the chain saw, and about the halfway point he’s supposed to set it down and chase me through the crowd. Then after we’ve scared the piss out of half the crowd, I’m supposed to let him catch me and throw me over his shoulder and carry me back into the maze, all while I scream bloody murder.