“Where else am I supposed to pay bills and write letters?”
“On a laptop or your phone like the rest of the world,” Joyride called out the door. “Where do you want this heavy-ass thing?”
“Will it fit in thebedroom?”
“No!” Hollywood called from inside. “Your bed takes up too much of the space.”
“Cram it in the living area, then.”
The trailer was camper-sized. Ghost had taken the deal I’d worked out with Nina to move into the park at a discounted rate in exchange for working as a groundskeeper at the park.
He’d looked at the little camper dented by hail and rusting around the wheels—noting that the lot next to him was vacant—and agreed to move in without even seeing the interior.
“Anything’s better than sharing a wall with that nosy loudmouth Ned,” he’d said. “He stops me every time I check the mail and hewon’t stop talking.”
The trailer was small, the kitchen practically nonexistent, but Ghost said he didn’t need much. So here we were, trying to make his furniture fit into a space more suited to camping.
Joyride disappeared back inside. I took the aluminum steps up to the door, Ghost following me with an end table in his hands. Despite this being his stuff, he’d let us carry the heaviest shit. No one said he was a dumb man.
Once inside, I leaned back to set the recliner down, then fell into it with a sigh. A couch sat two feet across from me, and the desk ended up wedged into the corner, partially blocking the entrance to the tiny galley-style kitchen.
“Are we done yet?” I asked. “I could use a beer.”
Hollywood pulled open the fridge, which we’d loaded when we first arrived for just this occasion. He pulled out a Miller and tossed it my way. I caught it and cracked the top with a satisfying fizzing sound.
“Who else wants one?” Holly asked.
I tipped my beer back, guzzling, while Hollywood tossed a second can to Ghost, where he sat on the loveseat. Joyridehad hopped onto the corner of the desk. When Hollywood tossed a beer his way, he missed.
The can hit the grungy dark brown carpeting and kept rolling. “Damn it, man. Now it’s gonna explode when I open it.”
Hollywood rolled his eyes and grabbed a replacement beer, walking it over to Joy. “For our little prince who can’t catch.”
Joyride flipped him the bird. “I was on my high school baseball team, fucker.”
Hollywood laughed as he scooped up the runaway beer can. “That makes it even worse, man. Did your daddy buy your way onto the team or something?”
Joyride’s face went red. His parents and their money was a touchy issue with him. “He sponsored some team events,” he muttered. “That doesn’t mean Iboughtmy way onto the team. I was good.”
Hollywood opened his mouth, but I shook my head. He snapped it closed. “Bad joke, sorry.”
“Yeah, Holly, didn’t your mom help you get your first job out of college?” I asked him.
Hollywood sent me an annoyed look as he returned the shaken-up beer to the fridge and grabbed one of the fancy IPA brands he’d brought for himself. “Yeah, she did. Everyone called me a nepo baby. It’s why I left and made my own way.”
“Which went so well you ended up in prison,” Ghost added.
Hollywood flipped him the bird without responding.
Joyride gave Hollywood an interested look. “You worked with your mom? How was it? Because my dad is really pushing?—”
“Don’t do it,” Hollywood said. “Trust me on that. You’ll never get anyone’s respect, especially your own.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Joyride said glumly.
Something wasn’t right at that house. Joyride hadn’t said much, but I got the feeling he didn’t actually want to be there. His parents treated him like a child, and as long as he allowed that to continue, he couldn’t become a man.
“You don’t have to do what your dad tells ya,” Ghost said, obviously thinking along the same lines. “You’re a grown-up. You went to prison, for fuck’s sake.”
