“Sure,” he said. “I’ve got a memory worse than a goldfish’s, though, can you write it down?”
I agreed, but I hadn’t even thought of what I wanted the message to be. I quickly grabbed a notepad, wrote down, “LeCharles, sorry about before. Would still love to meet for coffee if you’d like.” I scribbled my phone number down, even though he had it already, and handed it to Brian.
“I appreciate it,” I said, feeling like I was doing the equivalent of having a friend ask out the cute boy for me.
“Of course, I’m happy to help.”
I had hope, but I was still very much on edge. There were no guarantees this would work, and in fact, I wondered if this would actually make it worse. But it was too late now.
“Off to anywhere good now?” I asked.
“Just grabbing some food at a diner out east,” he said. “Want to wait until In-n-Out opens, but I don’t think I have the patience.”
“Story of all our lives,” I said with a gentle laugh.
I wished him well, went back to my workday, and prayed that I had not suddenly screwed myself over worse.
But when things were at rock bottom, could they really get any worse?
Axle
Isat in the break room of Carter’s Auto Repair, checking my phone. I had no new messages from Rose, which was oddly disappointing. I didn’t want to be disappointed, and I didn’t really want her to text me, but frankly, there was something invigorating about knowing someone wants you so bad they’ll do anything for you. To have that idea seemingly snapped away from me was a little bit jarring.
I did, however, have a bunch of messages from Thea, and unlike Rose, I was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. But I was beginning to regret that pretty seriously because it seemed like Thea was hell-bent on us going out on a date. Too bad for her, I had heard her comment about finishing inside of her. Too bad for her, I had a better chance of moving to Guatemala than that happening.
Too bad for her, there was only one girl I could see myself nutting inside, and that girl was a fantasy, a girl that had once existed in a relationship but had proved to be nothing more than an illusion. And if I ever did wind up coming inside of that girl, the reality behind the illusion?
I would have had a lot of questions that seemingly would need an entire book to answer.
I was about to send one more message to Thea when I heard the loud, thunderous steps of Butch approaching. I looked up nonchalantly.
“Have something for you,” he grunted.
Instinctively, seeing his hand go into his pocket, I tensed up, preparing to defend myself. Was this the moment that Butch revealed himself to be the rat by trying to knife me? Bold move in the middle of daylight, but…
And then he showed me a small piece of paper.
He tossed it on the table and walked away without a word. It was the most typical Butch thing—hardly say a word and communicate the bare minimum of what he was doing. This could have been a note from the President of the United States or from a McDonald’s employee, and I wouldn’t have known the difference by his presentation.
I unfolded the note. Even though I hadn’t read the handwriting on it in years, I knew immediately who it was.
Rose Wright.
You just can’t leave things alone, can you?
And then I started reading, much to my own chagrin. I was doing a pretty shitty job of keeping my distance through all of this. If that wasn’t the case, then why did I find myself reading this note over and over again, to the point I had Rose’s phone number all but carved into my skull?
I could delete her messages, and it wouldn’t make a difference because I couldn’t delete her number from my mind—as was the case even before this note.
Also, why the hell would Butch have the note to deliver it to me? Do they know each other?
And if so... in what capacity?
I was beginning to feel a little outraged. Did Butch know that Rose and I had, at one point, been a serious couple? Did he do anything with her knowing that? Why the hell did it matter so much?
But I couldn’t pretend like it didn’t matter, because it most certainly did. The fact I was stewing in the chair, my mind accelerating by the moment, getting more and more pissed off with every passing moment, said that it mattered.
I stormed out of the room, peered around the repair shop, and saw Butch walking back to the club headquarters.
