Midnight Toxicity

19.

Gary smiled at me when I approached after gathering my lone bag. His relaxed posture against the gleaming car set my nerves on edge. After dealing with Marie's hostility, I wasn't ready for further head games.

Slightly older than me, Gary was cute in an understated sense. He was tall with long, black hair tied in a knot at the back of his skull. Still, if we met in a crowd, I wouldn't give him another thought because of his forgettable features. He tucked sunglasses into his suit before lifting his arm to take my baggage, his muscles were difficult to hide even through the dark material. I bet he played sports in school with a serious bulk like that. Alright, maybe not too unmemorable then because I knew a few girls who would straight up lick those pythons.

"I got it," I muttered, stopping a few feet away. "Gary, right?"

His easy nod and grin didn't set off alarm bells, but why was he picking me up and not Chace? He cracked the trunk and waved for me to drop my bag inside, then opened the passenger door, never uttering a word. Ah, the silent type. Was it supposed to intimidate me? I squinted at him, concluding he was simply going through the motions.

The sun sat low in the sky, and I inhaled thick air, hating the wicked humidity that invaded my skin and started frizzing my hair. We left the airfield with Marie frowning at us from the jet. He ignored her, and I wondered if he found her as bitchy as I did. She hadn't mistreated me, but she also made certain I understood my place — which was beneath her. I slumped in the seat, waiting for him to tell me why I was there.

"It's quite a drive." His deep rumble filled the interior, startling me. "Let me know if you need to stop."

"Okay." I cleared my throat, turning my hips to stare at his profile. He didn't so much as twitch. "How long have you worked for Golding?"

"Better tack on a mister when speaking about him," he warned, his darkened eyes flicking over my legs. "He's a stickler for decorum."

"What else does he enjoy being called?"

A slow smile formed on his angular face. "Digging for dirt already?"

I shrugged, explaining the same thing as I had to Marie. "My stepfather isn't fond of passing on information when it doesn't serve his needs. After I last saw you, he ordered me to do as instructed. So... here I am."

"Here you are," he agreed without enthusiasm, veering off the highway onto a narrow rural road. "It might get a tad bumpy."

"Where are we headed?" I asked, tired of his non-answers. The guy had a way of avoiding every question with calm detachment.

"Where Mr. Golding houses his employees."

I frowned, "Is it far?"

"Far enough."

I gritted my teeth, deciding I didn't like him either. Golding's lackeys had ways of pissing me off to where I felt stabby, but I couldn't lash out. I had to behave so they wouldn't suspect I planned on demolishing their goal-oriented family. What a crock of shit. Golding's letter rested in my purse; his cryptic instructions burned into my memory.

Gary remained mute behind the wheel for several miles, and I took in the landscape instead of pressing him for answers he'd never give. The greenery and sticky air did not impress me, but the hope of catching sight of the ocean kept my complaints quiet. We joined commuters again in a quaint town that looked like it'd seen better days.

"This is Vard," he told me, pointing to a brick building with a huge bell fixed atop it. "There are more churches than stores, but the residents leave us alone. You're not permitted to come here by yourself unless Mr. Golding approves trips, but it's the closest town."