Page 17 of Sweet Dreams
The knock on the driver's window has my skin jumping off my body; when I look over, it’s Leroy with a shit-eating grin. I flip him the finger and roll the window down.
“You’re an asshole. Get the fuck in before a cop comes by.”
He punches me in the arm. “Loosen up, man. I swear you’ve grown into a stiff since you left. Live a little.”
I roll the window up in his face; I’ll loosen up when I’m back in Holden and see Teagan. I’m sounding like a pussy, for sure. So much for not wanting to get involved with her.
“Drive, Blackwell. I’ll tell you where to turn, you need to get out of that head of yours, or we’re fucked for sure.”
“I’m not in my head, fuck off.” I rev the engine and pull out onto the street. That’s the thing about Leroy; he gets in my head more than anyone. He’sone regret that I’ll never forget, that one reminder of the many fuck ups that I can never take back.
“So, tell me about this town that you ditched me for. It’s gotta be something spectacular because I thought you wouldn’t leave me for anything.”
“Well, if you weren’t such an asshole last time, maybe I wouldn’t have left.”
He flicks his hand and points left. “Turn up here. And I wasn’t an asshole. You didn’t do your job. It wasn’t my fault you pouted like a baby when I bitched you out.”
I slam the brakes on, jolting us both forward. I turn to Leroy. “I didn’t do my job because you fucked up in the first place. Don’t act like it was my fault. Take the blame once in a while. Jesus Christ, Leroy, you could’ve had me killed, and you probably wouldn’t care.”
“Drive, Blackwell. We’re late.”
Deflecting. His fucking specialty.
The spot Leroy directed me to is literally a hole in a wall. The run-down garage is large enough to hide the 71’ Bronco that I decided to borrow—without returning. Knowing Leroy, the Bronco won’t be sporting its baby blue coat. I dig this colour more than whatever shade they will pick, guaranteed.
“Yo, Leroy. What the fuck is this?” Stan shakes his head when Istep out.
“Don’t start with me. You wanted a vehicle, so I brought you one. Now pay up.” Leroy slaps Stan on the back. “And don’t act like this won’t sell like hotcakes.”
Stan exhales, running his hand through his long greasy hair. “That’s not what I’m worried about. These.” He knocks on the hood. “Aren’t popular. That means it’s gonna be hot, and the cops will be watching for it. It’s gonna take me forever to make this thing look unrecognizable.”
Leave it to Leroy to fuck up again and blame others. This is what I mean by deflecting. God forbid he takes any blame. Give a few, and he’ll turn on me since I jacked the stupid thing even though he told me to get something that no one drives.
“I don’t care, Stan. Pay so I can get the fuck out of here.”
Stan is just standing there, his overalls all gunked up with grease and snug around his belly as he takes each deep breath. “I’m only doing it, so you leave.” He walks to his toolbox and pulls out a wad of twenties. “I suggest you don’t spend it all in one place.”
Once I get my cut, he won’t have much to spend. You can’t make a living doing this all the time. It’s risky, but Leroy doesn’t care. It’s all about him. I can’t do this again. All I know is that come tomorrow, I’ll beon my way back to Holden, and I’ll be stepping into The Dancing Goat and ready to work.
I unlock the door to my motel room when my burner phone rings. I instantly know it won’t be good news if I answer it. It also means I won’t be getting back to Holden in time.
“Leroy, this better be great news because I’m about to hit the hay.” I step inside, closing the door with my foot. The motel has a hint of mildew and looks like it's straight out of the 60s.
“Don’t be like that. It’s a quick job, I promise. In and out.”
I plop on the bed as gracefully as a sack of potatoes dropped from a roof. “Nothing with you is quick. Now tell me the details.”
Tuesday. Fucking rolling back into Holden a day late, and I’m the asshole that never called Teagan to tell her that I wouldn’t be showing up for work. I can only hope she forgives me when I walk into the shop.
Except this isn’t the bookshop, I remember from last week. A construction crew is working withinthe small shop. I weave past a few of the workers stepping inside.
The floor is torn up, bookshelves empty, and a distraught Teagan standing in the back holding a clipboard, looking at the scene unfolding in front of her. When a douche walks up to her and says something, she frowns. The second he pulls her in for a hug, I see red. Why the fuck is someone touching her? I don’t take my eyes off them as I stalk forward. When bitch boy sees me, he straightens up and whispers something to Teagan. She turns around, narrowing her eyes. She quickly blinks, and her green eyes widen with shock.
“Silas? Where have you been?” She moves away from fucktard and comes toward me.
I slowly relax my clenched fists, jerking my chin to the door. “Somethings came up, and I couldn’t get out of them.” That’s not a complete lie. “What the fuck happened?” I eye nut tard when he steps closer to Teagan.
She shakes her head. “Silas, it’s been a shitshow. Let me tell you. I need a goddamn vacation is what I need.”