Page 5 of Only the Wicked

I hold my hands up in the air, the defensive gesture to convey I’m not a threat. “You can trust me. Eagle Scout here.”

“You’ve got to do the right thing.” Her smile spreads wide, revealing a set of straight white teeth and natural, sun-kissed lips, and I’m reminded of how much I like the small-town girl vibe. It’s not the clothes or even the smile; it’s the warmth and unguarded friendliness that’s rare in a big city like San Francisco.

“I can do it alone, you know?” Her question is a singsong tease, laced with independence.

“Oh, I know.”

She smiles in response, and I return the stubborn woman’s smile.

She’d go down that mountain without me if I didn’t insist on helping—an unwise move, but she’s fearless. Is a sense of immortality a small-town or big-city characteristic? Perhaps it’s not so much a sense of invincibility, but overconfidence. Could be both, I suppose.

Doesn’t matter. I’ll get her down safely. And I can rest easy, knowing for once, Nana would be proud. Maybe doing the right thing isn’t always about business decisions and board meetings.

Chapter

Two

Rhodes

Given she’s hobbling, I offer my arm. She presses down on my forearm, using me like a crutch.

And she thought she could get down without help?

“You from around here?” I ask as we approach the trailhead.

As down-to-earth as she appears, I haven’t picked up on a southern accent, and given I’m a North Carolina native, I’m good at picking up any range of southern dialect.

“I’m from Chicago. Originally.”

“What’re you doing here? Visiting?” That could explain why she’s on her own. She’s not familiar with these trails. Or she’s assuming it’s safer here than Chicago.

“In between jobs.”

It’s conceivable I’m projecting, but I swear her chin tilts higher, defiant, almost daring me to say something negative.

Or projection colors my perception. If I found myself unemployed, booted from the company I founded, I’d be defensive.

“Where all do you plan to travel?” I ask, skirting the unemployment topic.

“Taking it day by day. What about you?”

“I’ll be here through the end of the week.”

“Are you from here?”

“Charlotte.”

“Oh, so is this a day trip for you?”

“No. Charlotte’s not that close, and while I was born in Charlotte, I live in San Francisco. I spent a few days with my grandmother and now I’m just…” I let the words trail as I’ve said too much to this stranger.

“That’s sweet.”

Yes, I’ve said too much. She’s looking at me with interest. It’s the grandmother reference. “I don’t make it back here that often.”

“How do you like San Francisco?”

Not my favorite. “It’s fine.”