Page 37 of Fight
How about I stop by your place in the a.m.?
There’s an uncomfortable lump in my stomach. I don’t like the sound of this. Not one bit. I text him my address and tell him that I’ll see him tomorrow.
Maybe I should have met with Callahan when he texted yesterday. Not only is the fear of the unknown eating at me, but by the time this shift ends, I’ll be even more exhausted than I was yesterday afternoon. I snuck in a small nap halfway through. That’s the only thing saving me. There’s one of those giant cookie cakes wrapped up in tinfoil on the breakroom table, and it’s significantly smaller than it was earlier. I cut off a slice and pick at it while watching some rerun on TV.
It’s been a slow night, and I’m not complaining, but I’d be lying if I said my mind hasn’t been going in circles about our upcoming “talk.”
I stare at the cookie slice before stuffing the entire thing in my mouth. Which is when Dave walks in. He’s wrapping up his shift too.
“Hey, haven’t seen you in a while,” he says, pulling up a chair to the table. “How are things going?”
“Yeah, it’s going well. Thanks,” I say around my bite.
“Good.” He cuts his own slice off the stale, nearly brick cookie. “Making friends?”
I swallow. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I heard you and Cal are getting kinda cozy.”
My brow furrows. “Callahan Woods? I don’t know if I would say that.” I cock my head to the side. “Do you know him?”
“Oh yeah, he and I go way back.”
Hmm. “Oh, you’re good friends then?”
Dave sighs. “Depends on what your definition of a friend is… He’s nice enough. But there's something you should probably know about him. He’s the town heartbreaker. Sleeps around, never settles down.”
I roll my eyes. “What makes you think I would sleep with him?”
He raises his brows. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Look, I like Cal, but I wouldn’t let him near my sisters.”
He eyes me up and down, and I don’t like the way his gaze lingers.
“Why?”
“You know how they say the value of a car drops when you drive it off the lot? Well, Callahan likes to collect cars and never take them out again.”
Comparing a woman’s value to a car is gross.
I'm not a fan of Dave, but unfortunately, what he says was echoed by Matt on our trek home from the fire in Oregon, and it adds to my unease.
“Well, I’ve got some stuff to work on. I’ll see you around.” Pushing out of my chair, I exit the breakroom and check the rig to see if there’s anything I can restock. After that, I spend the rest of my shift finishing a training module on one of the desktops, then do a quick Google search for Arkansas news. Nothing that pertains to me. No news is good news.
When it’s finally time to go home, I get in my car and catch my reflection in the rear-view mirror. I look haggard. I’ll need a shower before I see Callahan. My car doesn’t start immediately, and I gulp down my frustration. It turns over on the second try,so I focus on getting back to my studio apartment in time to clean up.
I turn on the radio and sing along with a monotone voice, anything to keep me awake, until I hear a noise. It’s almost like a… thumping? I turn the radio off and listen. The noise is familiar, but my brain is too tired to put it together until the car starts to bounce—Shit! I’ve got a flat tire. I quickly pull over to the side of the country road.
I already know there’s not a spare. I bought the car bare bones and paid cash. Just in case the magical tire fairy blessed me with one, I check the trunk anyway. Empty.
“Shit.” I kick the shredded tire and slap the roof of the car. Closing my eyes, I lean against the frame, resting my forehead on the cold glass of the rear passenger window. I want to smash my head into it.Deep breaths.
Who do I call? Callahan? It’s seven fifteen in the morning; he’s probably not even awake yet. Ugh, this day just won’t end.
A couple cars zoom by, but tires crunching on gravel—the sound of hope—has me glancing up.Please don’t be a serial killer.
It’s Dave.I’ll take it!
I walk toward him as he steps out of his vehicle.