Page 18 of Hunt You Down

“So that language you and Mama were speaking⁠—”

“Creole.” His accent seemed to get stronger the more he talked. “It’s got French roots, but with a bit of a kick. My mama grew up speaking it, so I was taught to speak it too. Everything I learned in English, I had to learn in Creole too.” André started laughing. “To this day my daddy gets so pissed off when we slip into it.”

“He never learned?”

“A few words here and there. Like… if she forgets the English word for something, he knows what she means.”

André wrapped his arm around me and held me close. His heartbeat thumped in my ear.

“Have you ever done that?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. Just last week I was shouting, ‘Klipse! I need the klipse!” The whole office thought I’d lost it.”.

“What does that mean?”

“Stapler!” he yelled, barely able to contain his own laughter. “I needed the fucking stapler! They all knew what I meant!”

“Maybe they just wanted to hear that accent more. I could listen to it all day.”

André leaned down to kiss my forehead. “You can hear it anytime you like amou. All you have to do is ask.”

I was too tired to ask what it meant. I didn’t care. My eyelids grew heavy, and I fell quiet.

André kept his eyes on the TV, stroking my back. I’d never laid on a bed so comfortable. It was firm where I needed it, and soft where I wanted it. The silk sheets were cool on my skin, and the expensive comforter was perfectly weighted. The combination had me drifting off into a deep, sated sleep.

Chapter Ten

When I woke up, the room was pitch black. Curtains were drawn over an unfamiliar window. I sat up in a way-too-big bed in a much nicer room than I had at home.

I wasn’t at home.

All of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe. My stomach lurched. My lungs seized. I launched myself out of the bed, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet—why was I naked?

I backed up until my back hit a solid surface. My heart felt like it would beat right out of my chest.

It wasn’t until I looked at the TV that memories of the night before began to trickle in. The Golden Girls still played on a soft volume. I was in Savannah, in a bougie hotel with… André. And just like that, my breathing slowed. My heart rate came down and my stomach settled.

I slid down the door until my bare butt hit the carpet.

Get it together, David.

I stayed there longer than I cared to admit, talking myself off the ledge. Over the TV, movement from the other room caught my attention. I pulled myself to my feet. I couldn’t let André see me this way. Locating my bag on the luggage rack, I fumbled through to find the sweats and t-shirt I’d brought.

After I’d washed up, I went in search of André.

I found him in the kitchenette, plating up some sort of rice dish. “Hey sleepyhead.”

I tried to bring myself into the present. My head was so fuzzy. “What time is it?”

“Dinnertime. You must be hungry.”

My stomach rumbled as if André had been talking directly to it. “I guess so.” I slunk into one of the barstools, happily accepting the glass of water André poured me from a glass bottle sitting next to him.

And I immediately spit out the first mouthful. “What is this?”

André only laughed and despite the horrid taste in my mouth, the sound warmed me from the inside out. “Sparkling water. I take it you’re not a fan.”

“No, get it away from me!”