My Brother's Bad Best Friend

by B. B. Hamel

  “It was open,” he grunts.

  I frown a little bit, looking from him to the door and back. I never fucking leave my door open, not since we opened the Half Pipe and decided to leave a huge safe full of goddamn cash in there. I guard that place like it’s a holy relic or something, and Big John must’ve noticed.

  “Thanks, big man,” I say to him.

  He nods and heads off without another word. Weird dude, that Big John, but I don’t give him enough credit. He’s obviously smarter and more observant than I realized. It’s so easy to judge him based on his trunk-like neck and his beady little eyes, but that man is no idiot. I need to keep that in mind going forward. I’ve only known him for as long as Half Pipe’s been open, which isn’t long enough to feel like that guy’s completely loyal to me.

  I turn back to my office and step inside. Nothing looks out of place, not a single paper astray, but I can feel that something’s wrong. It’s a weird feeling, like someone came into your home and nudged something just slightly off-center, just enough to make the quiet, lizard part of your brain go haywire. I can’t put my finger on what the issue is, but the lingering ghost of something is driving me insane.

  I shut the door behind me as I go over to the safe. It’s the only thing I really care about in here. The papers, the shit in the drawers, nothing really matters. That cash, though, that fucking matters big time.

  I spin the dial and unlock the combination, pulling the door open. I get a whiff of money, crisp paper and ink, the most beautiful smell in the world. Well, aside from dripping wet pussy, of course.

  I notice it right away. I keep my cash in neat little stacks, each one facing the same way, but the top stack on the right is turned the opposite way and slightly askew. It looks like someone tried to put it back correctly, but was in too much of a hurry to do it right.

  I start counting and it doesn’t take me long before I’m ready to lose my shit. There’s five grand missing, which is no small fucking thing. What’s weird is that it’s not all gone. If someone broke in here and stole my money, why stop at only five thousand?

  I close the safe, sit down at my desk, and sigh. It’s like a perfect storm right now. Lizzie shows up, sending me down this fucking rabbit hole of whether or not I should take what I really want from her and finally taste her little body, despite knowing how messed up that might be. She’s hurting right now and in need of some support. The girl got kicked out of her house after her abusive fucking stepfather punched her in the face. I need to stop thinking with my dick for a second and help her get back on her feet.

  And of course, the second problem is her dumbass brother, Ezra. Ever since we opened this place and started making serious money, he’s been slowly getting worse and worse. I hoped it would be a temporary thing, that he’d party himself out fast, maybe get a case of crabs or the clap and decide fucking club sluts and getting fucked up every night isn’t the best idea. Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened, or maybe he just didn’t mind his cock burning like lava when he pisses.

  I tap my foot on the floor, bridging my fingers under my chin as I stare at my phone. I know I should call Ezra and make him explain this fucking shit, but I need to be careful. He’s clearly going through something and if I push him too hard, I’m afraid he’ll snap and make shit very hard for me. We’re business partners in Half Pipe and we split everything fifty-fifty, which means he has the power to burn this whole motherfucker to the ground.

  Then again, he’ll probably burn it down sooner or later if he keeps acting like a fucking fool.

  I dial his cell and let it ring on speakerphone. I’m about to hang up when he answers.

  “Yo, Jonas,” he says, sounding like he’s out of breath a little bit. “What’s up, man?”

  “Not much. Checking to see where you’re at.”

  “Oh, you know.” I can hear something in the background, something that sounds like a freeway or something. It’s almost like he was walking along the side of the road, but that makes no sense. “Just hanging out.”

  “Cool, I hear you. Listen, I just checked the safe and we’re missing five grand. I think I need to call the cops.”

  He hesitates a second and I know it was fucking him. That dumb piece of shit.

  “Don’t do that,” he says finally.

  “Why not? I didn’t take the money, and you didn’t let me know that you were taking any, so I’m pretty sure we got robbed.”

  Another pause. He’s sweating this hard. Dumbass probably thought I wouldn’t notice.

  “I took it,” he says finally.

  “You did?” I arch an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, you now, I needed some petty cash, you know, for this investment I got going on.”

  I don’t say anything. I can still hear the sound in the background, droning on like a noise machine. I clench my jaw, trying to keep the anger pushed down inside of me. I can’t make this situation worse.

  “It’s just, you know, it’s a big deal,” he babbles on. “Gotta get in on it while I can, you know?”

  “You’re supposed to ask me before taking money,” I say. “And I’m supposed to ask you. That’s how it works.”

  Another hesitation. “I’m sorry, man, I couldn’t find you. It couldn’t work.”

  “Bring the money back.”

  “I can’t,” he says instantly. “It’s an investment, and listen, it’s about to pay off big time.”

  “God damn it, Ezra.” I can feel my anger starting to slip. “Are you high right now?”

  “High? I’m not high, asshole, just because I don’t do everything the way you do, doesn’t mean I’m high, you dick.”

  I sigh. “Ezra. What are you investing in?”

  The noise in the background suddenly gets louder, almost deafening. “Oh shit, gotta go. We can talk about it later.” He suddenly hangs up the phone, leaving me speechless.

  I slowly stand up, radiating anger. That bastard’s out buying drugs right now, and a lot of drugs, based on the amount of money he took.

  I don’t know what Ezra’s getting himself into, and right now, I don’t give a fuck. Five grand’s a drop in the bucket, all told. We make more on a good day, easily, but that’s not the point. If Ezra’s buying drugs in bulk and calling it an investment, that means he plans on dealing them.

  And that’s very bad news for everyone involved.

  I leave my office, shutting the door behind me. Big John’s nowhere to be seen, probably back in the dispensary section watching out for any assholes that feel like acting tough. We’ve been getting less of those since a couple weeks ago when Big John smashed a guy’s face through a glass display case for reaching over the counter and snatching a joint from Lauren’s hand. I was going to dock Big John’s pay to get that display fixed, but decided the reputation as a no-bullshit establishment was worth the cost. So far, so good, but that Big John’s kind of a psycho.

  I head out into the coffee area, buzzing and fists tight. I go right around the back, ignoring the fact that Lizzie has an apron on and is helping Lane. I pour myself a coffee and sip it. I know this isn’t going to help with my mood but I need something to do with my hands. I should probably go smoke some fucking weed or something to calm down, but I don’t want to calm down. I want to smash Ezra’s face in and make him explain why he’s having a goddamn nervous breakdown.

  Lizzie looks over at me, leaning up against the counter, arms crossed. “Already checking in on me?” she asks. “I’ve only been at it for, what, five minutes?”

  I shrug a little. “I’m sure you’re doing good.”

  “Better than good,” Lane cuts in. “She’s a damn natural.”

  “It’s just making coffee,” Lizzie says but there’s an edge of pride in her voice.

  I arch an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? How about you make me a non-fat soy latte, then?”

  She sighs. “Don’t be a dick. I can pour coffee, that’s pretty much it.”

  I grunt a little bit, and I’m about to make some sexist dirty comment a
bout her pouring my dick all over her, but I decide not to be an idiot.

  “You should take a break,” I say to her. “Feel like going somewhere?”

  She glances at Lane who just shakes her head. “He’s the boss,” she says.

  “I just started.”

  “Come on. It’ll be better than pouring drinks all afternoon with this moron.”

  “Hey, leave me out of it,” Lane complains.

  “Note how she doesn’t argue with being called a moron.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “I am a brilliant, strong woman that will not take any shit from any man, except for you, Jonas, because you’re an asshole and my boss. Now fuck off.”

  I grin at her as Lizzie laughs. I stand up and step out from behind the counter. “Come on, Lizzie,” I say. “I’ll show you the real San Diego.”

  I don’t bother to look back to see if she’s following as I head out into the parking lot. To my surprise and genuine delight, she quickly catches up, the apron still tied around her waist.

  “Might want to get that off,” I say to her.

  She gapes before she realizes that I mean, which makes me smile. I turn her around and untie the apron before pulling it off her, getting close to her body. She’s blushing a little when I’m finished.

  “I can handle that myself, you know.”

  “Of course you can,” I say. “More fun when I do it.”

  I toss the apron behind a bush and lead her over to my Jeep. We climb in and I head out, top down, wind blowing in her gorgeous hair, and well aware that I’m making a dumb mistake, but not caring either way.

  6

  Lizzie

  The drive isn’t long, but it feels good to be in a car with the top down. For some reason, I don’t have my usual freak-out with Jonas driving, maybe because he takes it easy and maybe because the wind whipping through my hair actually feels nice for once. I don’t feel trapped in a steel death box like I normally do, at least.

  He parks and we step out, walking toward a large, concrete area with smooth, rolling hills, boxy railings, and a pool-like area. “Welcome to Linda Vista,” Jonas says as he confidently walks toward the skate park.

  I’ve seen these parks all over San Diego. It’s a big skateboarding town, although I never really hung around anyone that skated, except for Jonas back before Ezra was kicked out. Ezra never took it up, probably because he’s the least athletic person in the world.

  I feel totally out of place as I follow Jonas, and that feeling only intensifies as he says hey to every single person there. Some of the guys look intimidating, and some look like any other normal dude, but they all seem to know Jonas by name. He nods to some and greets others, shaking hands, but he doesn’t bother introducing me.

  We walk toward a boxy structure on the other side of a suspended walkway. “Who are all those guys?” I ask him, glancing back.

  “Just people I used to know,” he says a little vaguely.

  As we come under the walkway, this small guy suddenly detaches himself from a group and comes over, his board in his hands. “Jonas!” he shouts and waves his board. “Hey man, what’s up?”

  Jonas cracks a little smile for this guy. “What up, Mouse?”

  “Not much, man.” At first, I think Mouse is just short, but it takes me a second to realize that he’s young, maybe sixteen at most. His skin isn’t great, slightly pimpled and uneven, but he’s got bright blue eyes and a huge smile for Jonas, which is actually pretty endearing.

  “Didn’t know you were coming down today,” he says. “Don and the guys are over there.” He gestures in the direction we were walking.

  “Thanks, man. Drop anything good today?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” Mouse puts his board behind his head, flexing his back a little. “Joey’s filming some stuff, I’m hoping we can get a tape together.”

  “Good shit,” Jonas says, and starts to move on, but Mouse gets in his way.

  “Listen, man, listen, I need a favor.”

  “No favors,” Jonas says. I walk alongside Jonas, watching the big guy as he tries to get away from Mouse. I can tell that Jonas likes the younger skater, but clearly he doesn’t want to get wrapped up in a conversation.

  “Just, come on, hear me out,” Mouse’s voice lowers. “I hear you can hook me up.”

  Jonas stops walking and I nearly stumble into him. “What’s that now?” he asks.

  “You know, like, with some weed.”

  Jonas stares at Mouse and I’m pretty sure the young kid might wither away and die. He looks like he’s sweating bullets now, his gray t-shirt darker under the arms, or maybe that’s just my imagination.

  “Come by the shop if you want to buy weed,” Jonas finally says. “I don’t deal that shit anymore.”

  “But, come on, man. You know I’m underage.”

  Jonas shrugs. “Not my problem. I’m not about to risk my fucking income selling some kid weed, right?”

  Mouse finally nods, backing up a step, his eyes wide and nervous. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Of course not.”

  “Go make that tape, Mouse. Stick to what you’re good at.”

  “Yeah, okay, Jonas. Thanks anyway, man.” He turns and runs off, rejoining the group he left.

  Jonas sighs and walks on. I hurry to catch him again. “The rumors are true, huh?” I ask him.

  He looks at me. “What rumors?”

  “You’re a big, bad drug dealer.”

  He grins a little bit. “Used to be, at least. Sold to every damn skater in the city. Didn’t care about age back then. But now that’s it’s legal.” He grins even more. “I’m going legit.”

  “Oh, yeah, super legit, selling coffee and pot.”

  “Hey, people need their addictions, right?”

  “Do they?” I ask, cocking my head. “I guess so. I get the weed, but why do you guys sell coffee, too?”

  Jonas flexes his right hand and relaxes it, a gesture I don’t think he even notices. “That was your brother’s idea,” he says. “He figured if we’re selling one drug, might as well sell another.”

  “Coffee’s not a drug,” I say.

  “You clearly haven’t owned a coffee shop. People are way more addicted to caffeine than they are to weed.”

  I’m about to argue the point but I stop as we approach a group of three guys. The closest one drops onto his board and glides over, effortlessly stopping in front of Jonas to clutch his hand and pull him into a little one-arm hug.

  “Don, this is Lizzie,” he says.

  Don grins at me, dropping off his board to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says. Don’s a short guy with a patchy black goatee, black hair, dark tan skin, and a disarming smile.

  “You too,” I say.

  The two other guys head over. The first one is tall and lanky, nearly as young as Mouse but without the sniveling deference for Jonas.

  “This is Vinny.” The young guy smiles and nods. “And that’s Shrink.”

  The third one approaches on his board and gives me a reserved smile. He’s wearing a hat pulled low, baggy jeans, and his shoes are untied. He’s about the same height as Don, except he’s rail thin and wiry, with pale skin and shaggy blond hair.

  “Don here’s the best skater in the city,” Jonas continues. “We’ve been working on shooting a video for him, getting him some attention.” Jonas cocks his head at the trio. “Speaking of which, what the fuck are you three doing?”

  Don’s grin doesn’t falter. “Practicing,” he says.

  “You don’t need practice, you need footage.”

  Shrink glances at Vinny. “Uh, left the camera at home,” he says.

  “Jesus fucking…” Jonas groans. “Come on, guys. Go back home and get the fucking camera.”

  “Not it!” Vinny says immediately, half a second before Shrink.

  “Shit,” the thin guy says. “Dick.” He saunters off, board in hand.

  “Come on,” Jonas says to me. “Let’s see if Don’s actually gonna practic
e.”

  He leads me over to the boxy structure and we sit at one end. Don laughs as he hops on his board and glides off, riding up onto a short rail and grinding along his front trucks, landing it effortlessly and gliding away, Vinny hustling to follow.

  I can immediately see a difference between Don and the other skaters around him. Everyone seems pretty good, but Don’s on another level. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t overthink, and he doesn’t practice. He just runs at an obstacle and goes for his trick, no matter what. Sometimes he misses it, but mostly he makes everything he’s doing seem utterly simple and easy, like he was born with a board under his feet. Vinny’s pretty good too, and I’d probably be impressed if it weren’t for Don, who just makes everyone else look clumsy by comparison.

  “I come here a lot,” Jonas finally says softly to me. I’m reminded of how close we’re sitting, but I have no desire to move away. The concrete’s warm from the sun and Jonas is leaning back on his hands, a little smile on his face.

  “Yeah?” I ask him. “You any good?”

  “Not like him.” Jonas nods at Don as the small skater lands another trick, grinning the whole time. “I wasn’t being sarcastic when I said he’s the best.”

  “You said something about filming?”

  He nods. “I do that on the side, sort of a little passion project.”

  “How’d you get into it?”

  “I don’t know,” he admits. “I had a friend a few years back that asked for some help making a skate video, and it just sort of blossomed from there. I’ve made a few videos that got really popular, and that’s when I met Don. I decided I was going to make him the best fucking tape imaginable.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  He thinks for a second. “Don’s a good person,” he says finally. “Fearless and kind. He deserves it, I guess.”

  “Wait, so he’s not paying you?”

  Jonas laughs. “Don doesn’t have any money. His parents are divorced and his Dad went back to Vietnam. His Mom’s a drug addict living over in San Pasqual Valley, so Don basically bums around and skates as much as he can.”

  “How old is he?”