Bottom Feeder Read Online Free PDF Page B

his associates. I look in all the open rooms
downstairs before spotting Violet again.
    “ Violet,” I smile. “Did
you see where Daddy went?”
    “ Oh, he ran off with
Jackson,” she replies, not bothering to hide her unease.
    I am only a little ashamed that the
guy I was previously drooling over is her son. That’s why he looked
so familiar. The pictures in her living room do the real life
version no justice. I almost thank her for bringing someone so
beautiful into the world.
    Hold down your creeper
status, Carrington. No crushes.
    “ Jackson’s home!” I hug
her. “I’m so happy for you.”
    The worried expression is not hidden
well on her face. “He and Cordell were talking cars. I think they
went down to the dock.”
    I take the hint. “I’m going down to
show him Nomi’s latest creating.”
    She exhales a sigh of
relief.
    I make my way outside, hoping to
interrupt the conversation before Jackson makes a life-changing
deal with Cordell Carrington.

 
    Jackson
     
    Sweat pops out on the nape of my neck
as Cordell chauffeurs me through the endless flock of guests. He
greets each person with a handshake, pat on the back, or playful
punch on the shoulder. He even kisses a few babies along the
way.
    His walk is as unsteady as I feel.
Probably all the bourbon floating in his bloodstream. We push
through a set of French doors, maneuver around the massive pool
area, down a stone pathway, ending on the rounded end of a dock
overlooking the marsh. A large party boat is anchored to my right,
floating lazily on the water. Four jet skis are attached to the
left side.
    Fresh air dissolves the cloudiness in
my head. The profuse sweating comes to a halt. The psych says
reactions like this are normal.
    Normal. Funny. When I asked him to define the term, he
was unable to give a straight answer.
    “ Son, I think we can work
out a deal. You have a specific car in mind?”
    Wait . . . what? I get to
choose?
    “ The
Barracuda.”
    Cordell doesn’t balk at the mention of
his seventy thousand dollar automobile.
    He takes a sip of bourbon,
regarding me over the rim of his glass. He is reading me: my face,
my stance, my body language. Without changing the stony expression
he says, “Come back tomorrow. Do not tell anyone. I don’t want folks
around here thinkin’ they’re all up for sale.”
    “ It’s not for sale?” I
ask, deflated.
    “ No.” He finishes off his
drink and turns his back to me. “We can work out a deal if you can
keep your mouth shut and don’t ask too many questions. Sleep on
that and come back tomorrow.”
    I want that car. I need that car. “What
time?”
    “ Nine. Maddy should be
gone to work by then.”
    “ What does she . .
.?”
    Cordell puts his hand up
in the universal signal for shut the hell
up . “No questions.”
    “ Daddy?” a low, sweet
voice calls out. A dark-haired girl steps into the dim light. She
moves gracefully in stiletto peep-toes on the wooden dock. Yes I
know what peep-toes are. What can I say? I like nice feet. I don’t
have a fetish or anything. It’s just—wow, this thought process is
completely out of hand.
    “ Come over here, sugar!”
Cordell beams. “Let me see your dress.”
    Cordell’s daughter glances up to meet
my eyes but quickly looks away.
    Is she afraid of me?
I do tower over
her by more than a foot.
    Maddy walks into Cordell’s open arms.
He embraces her like she’s the greatest thing since gooey butter
cake. My stomach growls at the thought. She breaks the embrace,
keeping her left arm around his waist to help his unsteady
movements.
    “ Maddy,” Cordell says.
“Meet Jackson Monroe, Violet’s boy. He’s come down from Fort Bragg
to see his mama and asked to come along with her to your
party.”
    Cordell winks and pats me on the back.
The corners of her mouth turn up slightly. Seems like her bullshit
meter is pinging on high.
    “ Nice to meet you, Jackson
Monroe. Thank you for coming to the party. I hope you are having a
nice time.”
    “