It wasstupid.
But Jayce was quiet and brooding while we made our way along the fence, and I was too embarrassed by his rejection to bring it up.
The first thing he said to me all afternoon was on the ride home. “You want me to drop you off at the motel so you don’t have to walk?”
“Sure.”
He pulled up to the motel and parked the truck. Suddenly I remembered something.
“Hey! Stay here a sec.”
I ran inside and came back out with his jacket. I leaned across the passenger seat to hand it to him. He took it and held it up.
“Forgot all about it.”
“Me too,” I admitted. “Should’ve given it to you days ago.”
We locked eyes for a few seconds. A moment passed between us.
“Hey, Peaches?” he said.
“Yeah?”
He stared at me for a long, silent moment. Did he regret not kissing me earlier? Was he going to make up for it now?
“See you tomorrow.” He punctuated it with a warm smile that simultaneously made everything better and only confused me further.
I went to the lobby to get dinner. Billy was sound asleep behind the desk, and woke with a jerk when the door closed shut behind me. “Good morning,” I said.
Billy practically fell out of his chair. “It’s… huh?” He looked out the window. “What time is it?”
“Just a joke,” I said as I got a microwavable burrito and Diet Coke out of the cooler.
To his credit, he actually chuckled. “Aw, hell. You got me good. Almost scared me half to death. Sheriff said if he caught me sleepin’ again he’d find an excuse to throw me in the jail ‘til I’m old enough to drink.”
“Sorry.” I put the food on the counter and sighed. “All right. About that weekly discount.”
His smile spread slowly across his face. “Ah hah!”
Back in my room I opened my laptop and used the insanely slow motel internet to do some research on the Copperheads. Their official Wikipedia page called them The Georgia Copperhead Motorcycle Club. There were only two paragraphs, one detailing their founding in the eighties, and another explaining their notable run-ins with the law. I went back to Google and found a Facebook group for the Macon Police Department with a post about the Copperheads dated from twenty seventeen. Several residents complained about the motorcycles riding into their town in the middle of the night, causing a ruckus at the local restaurants and bars, and picking fights. Other posts complained about the lack of police attention to the issue. At the bottom was a canned response from the Macon Police Department saying they take the matter very seriously and are looking into it.
There wasn’t much else on the internet to find. Even less when I tried to look up Sid himself. Turns out psychopathic motorcycle dudes didn’t post on Instagram or TikTok.
It was getting dark out, and my microwavable burrito was looking less and less appealing the more I stared at it. Finally, I put it in the mini fridge and went back to the lobby.
“Say, Billy,” I said in my friendliest tone. “You’re my best friend here, did you know that?”
He squinted suspiciously at me. “Uh huh.”
“You want to give me a ride into town?”
He blew air out his nose. “I don’t got my license. Get dropped off and picked up here. Gonna get my learner’s permit next month, though!” he added cheerfully.
It was a nice night, so I decided to brave the dark road and walk. There was a cool breeze which blew off the humidity, and the forest was a chorus of chirping birds and insects. It reminded me of my parents’ house, where I grew up. We didn’t have these wild forest sounds in Savannah, and I hadn’t realized I’d missed them until now.
I was halfway to main street when I heard a single motorcycle approaching from behind.
I felt a moment of panic as I moved to the ditch. What if it was a Copperhead? They might leave me alone, but then again… I could run and hide in the woods on the other side of the ditch. Better safe than sorry, especially for a girl all alone on a backwater Georgia road.