by William Cali
Out of Nowhere
William Cali
Copyright © 2019 by William Cali
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Michael Hirshon
http://hirshon.net/
Editing by J Wade Dial
[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, events, and organizations portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously.
This book is dedicated to Taskin.
You are the love of my life.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
From the Author
Chapter One
All around him, the crowd chanted his name, and nothing felt more like home.
“PENT! PENT! PENT!”
Adrian Pent stared into the eyes of the oncoming player. The offensive line was tight, but he spotted an opening. He had been here before, more times than he could count. The quarterback snapped the ball and began to shift to the side.
Here he comes, here he comes…
BOOM!
Pent slammed his shoulder into the opposing team’s quarterback. The slimmer athlete buckled from the impact and flew backward, his helmet rocking loosely. And that wasn’t all…
Loose ball! Loose ball!
He spared a glance at the grounded quarterback, and then ran forward, swept up the ball, and clutched it tightly. He dashed to the end zone while quietly praying to himself, hoping he wouldn’t drop it.
As he crossed the painted line, he stopped and regarded the cheering crowd, breathing in the moment: the yells piercing his ears; the taste of iron from his bleeding gums; the smell of turf pulled up from cleats grinding into the field.
With every bit of energy he had left, he spiked the ball into the ground.
* * *
“Excuse me! Excuse me!”
The cheers began to fade into nothingness, and in an instant, the youth was seven years older, jarred out of his dream. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and stared at the customer in front of him. The man was well dressed in a fitted black suit and wore a look of impatience on his face.
“Sorry about that, man, just kind of zoned out a little.”
“Tsk,” the customer in the suit grumbled to himself. “Zoned out? You were asleep on your feet. You’re lucky I’m busy, otherwise your manager would hear about this.”
“Again, sorry about that. Did you find everything you needed today?”
Mr. Big Deal’s eyes started narrowing as he processed the grocery bagger’s appearance.
“You know, you look familiar…”
Here we go. Here we go…
“Hm… Oh shit, you’re Pent! Adrian Pent, right?” The fat cat was grinning from ear to ear. “We went to high school together! Year of two thousand and three, right?”
Pent sighed out loud. “Yeah, that’s right. I don’t remember you, though.”
The hotshot in the suit laughed.
“Yeah, you probably wouldn’t. I was just some nerd back in high school.” He leaned back a step, rubbing his stubble as he eyed Pent from head to toe. “You though. Most explosive linebacker the school had seen in decades. Number forty-one, right? Man, you’re still built like a tank!”
Pent forced a laugh, hoping he sounded genuine. “Thanks man, I try to keep in shape.”
Mr. Fortune 500 kept going: “I’m working as an executive now. Went through school, did a five-year program, an accelerated master’s program for business. Major success now.” He shrugged his shoulders, answering an unsolicited question. “I’m only in this crap town for the weekend. Visiting my folks. They still live around here. How about you?”
Pent smiled lightly. “Yeah, I’m just here, still living out here, you know.”
“Doesn’t look like you’ve gone anywhere in life.”
“Yeah, looks like it,” Pent said, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
“No college after high school? I thought you were on a scholarship to State?”
“Yeah, yeah, I was going to g—”
Mark Cuban Jr. continued, cutting Pent off, “I mean, some things can’t be helped. We can’t all be executives, you know. The blue-collar jobs are just as important, even if they don’t pay as well.”
Pent nodded in resigned agreement as he scanned the executive’s groceries. Just shut up already.
The Wolf of Wall Street left a hundred-dollar bill for what amounted to twenty dollars of protein and milk.
“Listen, man, you go ahead and treat yourself to something, alright? Man, you could really play ball back in those days. You should try to get back into that!”
While counting to ten in his head, Pent took the hundred-dollar bill and made change.
“Here you go, sir.”
“No, no, you keep that. You have a good day, God bless.”
“Thanks…”
Pent watched his former classmate walk off, his register now free of customers. He unclenched his fist and rubbed his forehead, trying to calm the vein that was bulging there. He put twenty dollars into the register and stared at the change.
Pent watched the man as he strolled away from the register, looked down to study the change in his palm, and then glanced at the man again.
Finally, he sighed to himself and swept the money into his pocket. I wonder if I knocked him around seven years ago. He shook his head. Whatever happened seven years ago, it didn’t matter now.
Chapter Two
Three hours later, Pent was in the Market Palace employee break room. He pulled his grocery smock off and placed it in his tiny locker. He was rummaging through his affairs when a thin, gangly looking nuisance jumped at him.
“BOO!”
The man cackled, shaking with delight. “I got you, fool! Should have seen the look on your face!”
Pent grinned and shook his head. “Quit messing around, Greg.” Pent stepped forward with his arm cocked back. “You play too damn much.” Greg shuffled back in mock fright, leaving Pent to attend to his locker.
He scooped up his Kershaw folding knife and examined it. It was a reliable blade, built for the outdoors, for the wilderness, for the unknown. It’s always good to be prepared. He usually used it to open up envelopes.
Greg had sidled next to Pent and was studying his face.
“Man, you look even saltier than usual.”
Pent ran his hand over his pocket, feeling the eighty dollars sitting there.
“Same old, same old.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I mean, you know this place. Some things never change around here.”
Greg turned to his own locker as he grunted his approval. “When you right, you right.”
Pent scratched at the back of his neck.
“You know, this douche bag came up to the register on my shift, knew me from high school.”
Greg laughed. “Oh yeah? Fantastic, I didn’t know there were any more of you high school superstars bumming around here.” He slammed his locker shut and gave Pent a wide, toothy grin. “What this douche bag want? To relive y’all’s glory days?”
“Nah, it wasn’t anything like that. He was some big shot businessman punk. Said he was visiting his parents for the weekend.” He paused for a moment. “He left me a tip, man.”
“Damn, that’s great. Buy me a drink, fool.” Greg licked his lips and jiggled his eyebrows.
Pent clenched his fists.
“It’s humiliating is what it is.” He rapped his knuckles along the edge of the locker. How long am I gonna have to bag groceries before I can just drop a hundred dollars like it’s nothing? Sighing, he reached for the last item in his locker. “Yeah, I’ll get you a drink, man.”
Greg was leaning over Pent’s shoulder, glancing with a look of blended eagerness and nervousness at the object in Pent’s hand.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re worshipping that thing. Well, don’t keep me waiting, man. Let me see it, let me see it.”
Greg’s prodding brought pause to Pent’s mind. He knew his coworker was mostly joking around, but people raised an eyebrow as soon as they learned about it. It wasn’t something people were comfortable with, and he tried to keep it concealed when he could. Guns, they just make people jumpy.
Pent had made the decision to pack heat years ago. He pulled the M1911 pistol out of his locker and placed it in his inner jacket holster as casually as he could manage.
Greg whistled in surprise. “Oh man, you’re ready to tear some shit up with that!” He leaned over and whispered in Pent’s ear, “So, when are we gonna rob this place?”
“You know I’ve got a permit for this; don’t know why you keep acting like a clown.”
“Maybe we can go knock over some banks, get some real money going.” He laughed in Pent’s ear. “You ask me, I’d say you’re looking for trouble. Black man with a gun? Nothing but problems. What you call it anyway? O.M.G?”
“E.D.C. Stands for Every Day Carry. It’s not just about gripping on a pistol, it’s a whole mentality. You have to bring things with you that have a purpose. Things that have utility. I’m naked without all these things.”
“Oh right, right! Gotta make sure you’re strapped all the time. Never know when you’re going to run into a mountain lion with a machine gun!”
Pent continued to rummage through his locker, pulling out his keys and wallet, along with a lighter, and placed them in his pockets.
“It always helps to be prepared.”
Greg just laughed again. “Sure man, sure.”
Pent spared his friend a glance. It’s not like this fool has lived my life. Don’t think he’s ever gonna see where I’m coming from. He sighed and closed his locker, ready to make his way home.
* * *
Pent climbed up the same steps he climbed every day to an old house on the corner of his block. He opened up the mail chute; nothing new coming in, and nothing new going out, either. He took out his key, opened the door, and entered the house. He was only two steps inside when he heard a familiar voice.
“Adrian, ‘bout time you made your way home.”
“Sorry, Momma, they had me covering for someone else at work again.” Pent stepped into the room, dropping his keys into an ashtray on a cluttered nightstand, the only clean ashtray in a room that could have served as a collector’s den of them. Pent didn’t bother asking his mom to quit smoking anymore. If she hadn’t quit ten years ago, she wasn’t going to quit now.
“I went ahead and cooked a while ago, go ahead and grab some up.”
Pent hadn’t eaten since the morning. In the kitchen, he scooped some garlic bread with pork gravy onto a plate, along with a couple of links of sausage. Crumbs spilled out onto the carpet as he walked to the living den, crunching on the bread.
His mother didn’t seem to notice as she took a long drag from her cigarette.
“Sometimes you gotta work hard to keep your head above water.”
Pent stared at his mother. He didn’t feel like arguing with her about work or the cigarettes. And besides, what she does with her checks ain’t really my business.
“I was thinking of getting a drink with someone from work in a bit, maybe catch some of those happy hour specials.”
His mother peeked up from the TV, taking in Pent’s demeanor for the first time.
“You’re not going out with that Greg guy, are you? That boy is no kind of good influence for you.”
“He’s not so bad, Momma. It’s just a few drinks.”
Pent’s mom shook her head. “What happened with that one kid you always used to kick up dust with? Devon? He’s a good kid.”
Pent groaned. His mother wasn’t that old, but she always seemed to mix up names like this.
“You’re thinking of Kevin, he doesn’t live here anymore. He’s in the Navy now.”
She took another pull from the cigarette, her eyes glued to the TV screen.
“Or was his name James? Haven’t seen that boy around here in a long time.”
Steam rose from the bullet hole that used to be an eye socket. Blood ran down his face, and someone sobbed in the darkness.
Pent could feel his whole body shudder. He reached for his jacket holster, running his hand along the concealed gun.
“No, Momma, he hasn’t been around here for over six years.”
“Or how about that kid, Jamal, he was a little charmer right? Always had a new lady around his arm. Hang out with him.”
“Momma, he doesn’t live here anymore either! He actually went somewhere after he finished high school.” Thinking about James had put him in a sour mood. He felt his blood rising but pushed it back down again. “You need to stop treating me like a kid, Momma, I’m not a kid anymore.”
She took one more drag, staring at Pent over the rim of her glasses.
“Yeah, you’re a grown man, still living in my house, eating my food, so you gonna have to listen to what I have to say.”
“Sorry, Momma.” Pent finished his piece of garlic bread and put his plate in the sink. “You know how it is though, there’s nothing around here for me anymore.” He paused for a moment. “And there’s nothing around here for you either. Nothing for anyone in this small ass Virginian town. Just a bunch of losers used to toeing the line and nothing else.”
“You watch your mouth now when you talk to me,” she said harshly as she ashed her cigarette. “Ever since your daddy… it doesn’t matter, but you know I’m not going anywhere. I’m comfortable here.” She took a final pull from the cigarette before putting it out. “And I don’t need you worrying over everything that I do. You could have gone on to do something amazing with your life, and instead, you’re here. Nobody forcing you to stay here. You think you owe me ‘cause of what your daddy did? You don’t carry that burden.” She reached over for her pack of smokes, drawing another one out. “Listen, you just make sure that you don’t drink and drive, alright? I don’t want you getting hurt out there.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll walk home. It’s not that far from Nelly’s. Only place worth spending your sevens to tens in this town.” He made his way towards the entrance of the house. “Think I’ll go get some more air, Momma. Thanks for the supper.” He smiled to himself and put thirty dollars from his tip in the ashtray, replacing his keys.
His mother yelled to him from the other room: “Adrian Pent, if you want something to happen, you gotta make it happen yourself. It’s killing me to see you waste away in this town on m
y behalf.” She paused, and Pent pictured a puff of smoke floating in the air. “Your daddy did it right, maybe you should take after him some.”
Pent shook his head at the thought and walked out the door.
Chapter Three
“Just a few drinks with Greg. Help take my mind off all this mess,” Pent said to himself as he shut the engine of his car off. He stepped onto the curb in front of Nelly’s bar, and he couldn’t help but laugh at how far his car was from the curb. Man, I suck at parallel parking.
He walked towards the bar with a frown on his face but stopped before entering. He shrugged to himself, got back in the car, and backed in and out until the tires were right next to the curb.
He exited the car with a smile on his face, stepped over the curb, and entered the bar. The atmosphere was warm, cozy, and uncomfortably familiar. Pent took off his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder, and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He went directly to the bar, which was the best place to avoid the overbearing space heaters and the quickest way to grab a drink.
The heavy-set bartender brushed her blond hair from her face. Pent nodded at her knowingly.
“Hey, Polly.”
“Hey, Adrian. Pint of Coors?” she asked even as she began to fill a glass from the tap with Pent’s preferred beer.
“You got it.” It was a double-edged sword to be on a first name basis with the local bartenders. Never a sense of anonymity, no chance to really escape from it all. If you ended up ass over head, puking all over the place, you could bet they would remember it the next time you step in. But at least you didn’t have to announce your drink order.
