by London Casey
I shook his hand and without a word, we hugged each other. An unspoken bond we kept alive.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“Back brake light is out,” Harper said.
“You could get pulled over for that,” Donny said.
Harper looked at Donny. “Eat shit, Donny. What are the odds I don’t find empty beer cans in the backseat of your truck?”
“Probable cause,” Donny said.
“You think I need probable cause?” Harper asked. “Look at you.”
Rich then grabbed Donny’s sleeve and tugged. “Come here. Let’s check out the engine block on that car.”
Harper looked over at Hank. He gave a nod.
Hank put a hand out and forced Harper to walk to him to shake hands.
“How’s your mother?” Hank asked.
“Still not interested,” Harper said.
“You know, a little extra packaging makes the cold nights a little less cold,” Hank said and he patted his large stomach.
“If I have to envision my mother with you one more time, I’m going to find something to arrest you on.”
Hank laughed a deep laugh and started to cough.
“You closed up?” Harper asked.
“No,” I lied. “I’ll get the brake light done for you.”
“She could also use a tire rotation, fluid check, and there’s a pinging sound in the back. Wondering if one of the shocks is starting to go. You don’t mind…”
“I got you covered, Harper,” I said. “Can I drive it into the bay?”
“I trust you. Not the other fools.”
I laughed.
I had to admit… I had been in the back of police cruisers more times than I cared to admit. But to get behind the wheel, that was something different. Not that I was able to do anything fun. I put the cruiser into drive and crept forward into the garage bay. I shut off the engine and got out.
“You can pop the trunk,” I said to Harper. “Make sure there’s access to the lights.”
I let out a whistle for Rich and Donny and put them to work.
I went to the back and popped open the panel to replace the bulb.
Harper turned and leaned his ass against the open trunk. He had a cockiness to him that was fucking annoying but that was his personality.
“How’s Nikki?” he asked.
“She’s fine.”
“Ava?”
“Fine,” I said and turned my head to look at him. “Fine, Harper. Fine.”
“Okay, okay,” Harper said. He showed his hands. “You know, I tried talking to her a few times and…”
“She’s hurt and confused,” I said. “I don’t know if that will ever go away. You know that. I know that. So just let it be.”
“And what are you going to do? Take care of them for the rest of your life? What about you, man? You ever do anything for yourself?”
I popped in the new bulb and stood up. “I closed the garage almost twenty minutes ago. I could be out on a date but instead I’m helping your ass.”
Harper grinned. He made a fist and punched my shoulder. “Doing your civic duty. Helping an officer in need.”
“Right.”
I started to put the trunk back together.
Harper turned and leaned forward. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about going bigger than this town.”
“Transferring?”
“Thinking about it.”
“Makes sense. Nothing ever happens here.”
“Chasing raccoons out of houses at three in the morning isn’t as fun as you’d think. I came back… after everything happened… and I just needed this. The quietness. But now I’m thinking I want more.”
“Hey, it’s your life, right?”
“I talked to a few guys about some shit. I have a buddy… I’m not telling you this to make small talk, Gavin.”
“Then why are you telling me this? You want my advice?”
“No. I don’t give a shit about your advice.”
I smiled. “Okay.” I walked to the other side of the car and started to check for whatever noise he had mentioned. But chances were, it was all bullshit to get me alone and talking.
“I heard a little rumor,” he said.
“Great.”
“No, listen.” Harper put a hand to my arm. “Heard that someone is interested in building in town.”
“Building? Building what?”
“Not sure. Might be some commercial mall thing. One of those outside walk around places.”
“Here? Not a chance.”
“Also heard might be apartments.”
“Apartments?” I asked. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Hey. Little towns like these are making a comeback. People get tired of the hustle of the city. We’re only thirty minutes out, Gavin. This is prime real estate here.”
“Prime real estate?” I asked. “This shithole of a garage in this shithole of a town?”
“The land, Gavin. The land.”
“What the fuck are you trying to tell me?”
“I heard someone might be snooping around soon, looking to scoop up the land here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Chances are if they really want it, they’re going to offer you a ton of cash. Might be a good thing.”
I shook my head. I didn’t deal in the world of rumors and maybes. I dealt in reality.
I finished up checking what I could and let Harper put his stuff back in the trunk and then shut it.
“Why the hell did you tell me that?” I finally asked.
“Food for thought,” he said. “I can’t imagine this is what you dreamed of in life.”
“So, what? I sell this place and do what?”
“Whatever you want,” Harper said. He grabbed my shoulder. “You’ve been living for so many people, Gavin. You have to do something for you once in a while.”
I opened my mouth to say something.
“We’re done here,” Donny called out. “Everything is topped off and ready to go.”
“You’re the best,” Harper called out. “Look at you guys. Living out everything you were meant to be.”
I saw the look on Donny’s face.
I saw the look on Harper’s face.
I never understood why people carried bullshit from high school.
“What do I owe you?” Harper asked me.
“Get out of here,” I said.
“No. What do I owe?”
“Get in the cruiser and go protect the town,” I said.
“I’m going to put money somewhere.”
“Try me.”
“Gavin.”
“Harper,” I said. I walked to the driver’s door and opened it. “Get out of here. I’m tired.”
“Thank you,” Harper said.
By the time I got Harper the hell out of there, another set of headlights appeared. Behind the wheel was a guy named Tom. He worked just outside of town in a metal factory. Putting in twelve hour shifts six days a week to pay for two kids he rarely saw because his ex moved eight hours south with her new boyfriend. And his mother had been moved into a home because of dementia.
He needed an oil change and his timing belt was making a hell of a noise.
There was no saying no to a guy like Tom. Someone who worked to the bone just to make it through the day. He’d get home, warm up some shitty dinner, watch half a TV show, drink a beer, pass out on the couch, and wake up around six to do the same thing again.
By the time the day actually ended it was close to two hours after I pulled the chain on the neon sign.
I hung my head and took a deep breath as I smoked the working day’s last cigarette.
Donny then slapped his hand to my back. “Drinks. We’ve earned it.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Come on. Me and Rich are going. You should too. First round is on me.”
“You’re buying me a beer?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a first.”
&
nbsp; “Hey, whatever is cheapest, I’m buying you one of those.”
“Thanks, Donny.”
I looked forward and watched the light traffic on the street go by.
I thought about what Harper had said. Someone buying the garage? The land? For what? It had to have been bullshit, right? It wouldn’t be the worst thing for a little cash and the whiff of freedom.
Rich and Donny were already gone.
Hank waddled his way to his car, grumbling to himself as he started it and drove away.
I then closed up the last garage bay and thought about going home.
Then again, a cold beer sounded really fucking good.
The local bar had no name. The guy who owned the place was Finn. So we all called it Finn’s. His father owned the place before him. His father was Bart. So they called it Bart’s. And his grandfather opened the place. His name was Conor. Guess what they called the bar then? No, you’re wrong. They called it Anna’s. After Conor’s wife that passed away.
Useless history in a useless town.
I sat at the bar at the far end and just watched the place thrive. It was almost like a high school reunion sometimes. Donny and Rich were throwing darts with Mike and Dylan. Those two were baseball players but never good enough to get out of the high school game. They grew up broke and skipped college and learned how to weld. They had their own shop and did pretty well. Of all the women in the bar half had eyes for me and I had eyes for all. Call me whatever comes to mind but I only sought out comfort when it was necessary. And anyone who decided to spend the night with me knew exactly what it meant. I didn’t do relationships. I didn’t do dates, flowers, awkward conversations, hand holding, ice cream for dessert, and lingering for a kiss that could possibly lead to something else.
Stacey grabbed her glass and walked away from Heather and Dani. She strutted my way and I turned around to face her.
“The ghost is here,” she said.
“Boo,” I said.
“You escaped, huh?”
“Escaped what?”
“The garage. The house.”
“Whatever,” I said.
“How are you?” she asked.
She wiggled her way between me and some guy sitting next to me.
“I’m fine.”
“How’s Nikki and Ava?”
“Good.”
“Liar.”
“Why’d you ask?”
“I tried calling her a few times,” Stacey said and frowned. “She never calls me back.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s hard. With Ava. She doesn’t get out much.”
“I didn’t call to go drinking,” Stacey said.
“I know,” I said again. “I’m just trying to justify it. The truth is fucked up.”
“It is fucked up,” Stacey said. She then looked across the bar.
The other side is where we used to gather. All of us. We’d be there as a group. Talking. Laughing. Flirting. Just enjoying the simple pieces of life. Shit, on the other side of the bar is where we had the going away party for Luke.
Stacey put her hand to mine. “Sorry for bringing it up. Tell me about yourself, Gav. What’s happening?”
I raised an eyebrow at Stacey. “Is this you trying to get into my pants?”
“Might be,” she said.
“You know I’m easier than that.”
Stacey laughed. “But if it’s too easy I feel dirty.”
“Dirty? You knew what you’d get talking to me.”
“I had a shitty day today,” Stacey said. “On top of a shitty week, month, even a shitty year.”
“Join the club, Stace,” I said.
“So what are we doing here?” she asked. “Talking or…”
“Well, let me see,” I said. “I can throw darts with the guys.”
“The guys? You don’t have the guys. You’re their boss.”
“Don’t remind me,” I said. “So tell me about your bad day.”
“It wasn’t bad. It was shitty.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Big difference.”
“I’d love to know how that works,” I said.
“So this is you shutting me down,” Stacey said.
“I never said that.”
“Oh, the Gavin I knew would have had me thrown into his truck by now.”
I grinned. “So I’m a changed man, huh?”
Stacey looked across the bar and swallowed hard. “I think we’re all changed, Gavin.”
I slipped an arm around her and pulled her close.
She was looking for some comfort and I was more than willing to give it.
But right then the door to the bar opened and in walked two more women.
Two strangers.
One I didn’t give a damn about.
The other looked right at me… with a set of eyes that threatened to destroy my entire life.
Two
A Much Needed Escape
(Olivia)
Whitney was never really considered a friend, but she was forever in my life. Her father and my father were always competing over who had more money and who could make more money. Whitney was spoiled, had a sense of entitlement, and got anything she wanted from the day I met her. Me, I was sort of the opposite, meaning I was forced to be spoiled. Anything I said, I’d get. So I stopped saying things. But Whitney always managed to trick me into saying things and then get them for herself. That would piss my father off and he’d do something bigger for me.
There were rare times though when Whitney was able to turn off the rich bitch thing and be human. Her mother had a really bad drinking problem that led into a pill problem. Her father did everything to hide it from the public eye. Her father took his company public and the months leading up to it were so scary. He kept Whitney’s mother in the basement like a pet. Feeding her vodka and prescription pain pills, keeping her alive, balanced, and ensuring she wouldn’t do anything stupid to cause an issue for the company. Now, when I say Whitney’s mother was locked in the basement, this basement was a mansion in itself.
A week after the company went public, Whitney’s mother snuck out of the house to go buy hot dogs. That’s what she wanted. Hot dogs. She drove to the store, stumbled through, drunk and high, getting her picture taken a hundred times over. Then she drove home and crashed her car a block from the massive mansion. She managed to walk her way home, bleeding from her head. She turned on the grill and put hotdogs on it, still in the packaging. Then she got into the pool and passed out. The staff at the mansion found the grill on fire and Whitney’s mother face down in the water.
She was lucky she survived but not without a messy PR situation that Whitney’s father had to deal with for months. Her father fired and sued everyone that worked at the house. It was a big disaster, even though my father loved it.
Those were the times when Whitney opened herself to me. Upset about not having a mother in her life, something I could relate to. But then she masked all that by drinking, partying, and being the rich girl wild child because she could do it and get away with it.
Tonight, she showed up to my apartment with a car and a driver. She knocked and then walked right in. I was on my laptop, looking up stuff that I had no business doing. I had spent a couple hours dealing with my father, trying to find out what my next big project was for his empire. He told me there were pictures of me looking too drunk from the other night with Parker. I bit my tongue, wanting to tell him that being drunk was the logical way to deal with Parker.
“Hey bitch,” Whitney said as she opened the large stainless steel refrigerator and looked for something to eat or drink. “Ugh. Nothing good. Let’s get someone to cook us a decent meal.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Grumpy?”
“Tired.”
“No you’re not. We’ve got plans.”
“Plans?”
“I think I’m sick of the city.”
That got my full attention. “What did you say?”
<
br /> “You heard me.”
Whitney was tall, skinny, the perfect image of a model. Personal trainers, personal chefs, even a few surgeries that nobody was allowed to talk about made Whitney look the way she did. She loved the camera and the camera loved her. I was the princess and she was the bad girl. But she managed to walk the line but never fall over the other side. And even if she put a foot there her daddy was there to pay everyone off and reset the image. I guess her father learned his lesson with Whitney’s mother. (Who, by the way, lived in a private resort somewhere on the west coast. Unable to travel. Unable to do anything but what she was told to do.)
I walked to Whitney and touched her forehead. “Are you sick?”
“Nope. Just want something different.”
“Different?”
“I’m tired of the rich boys,” she said. “I want a dirty bad boy tonight.”
She picked out men like people would pick food off a menu.
“Ew.”
“Ew yourself,” Whitney said. She crouched and opened a door, finding bottles of booze. She popped up with a bottle of vodka. “Glasses?”
There was no arguing so I went to a cabinet and got two gold shot glasses.
Whitney topped off the shot glasses and we had a drink.
“You need to have some fun,” Whitney said as she poured another round.
“Whoa,” I said. “I’m not drink-”
“Yes you are,” Whitney said. She reached for my hands. “I heard what happened. At the hospital.”
My heart sank. “Oh.”
“That’s so sad. You know? A little kid? It’s scary.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Oh, shit. Your mother. Fuck. That probably makes it worse, huh?”
“A little,” I said.
I was used to Whitney’s airhead, dry, blunt attitude about life. She never had a bad day in her life and if she did she got wasted to make it so it would never stick in her memory.
“That’s why we’re going out.”
“Whit…”
“No,” she said. She slapped the counter. “I know you’ve been working like crazy. I know your father uses your emotions to help sell whatever he’s doing next. He’s a fucking idiot. Like my father. So screw it.”
