Page 32 of Nuts

I looked at him and shrugged.

“I have no idea.”

Chapter Twelve

P-Nut

With my ass in a folding lawn chair and a beer in my hand, I sat in the driveway and waited for Smudge to get home. Seeing me enjoy a cold one in the drive wasn’t an uncommon sight for my neighbors. In fact, it was rare that I drank beer in the house.

I felt free when I was outdoors. The walls of my home – or any home for that matter – made me feel confined. As far as I was concerned, a home was a shelter to sleep under and nothing more.

I didn’t feel accountable for Smudge as if I was her parent. As a man, and as her friend, however, I felt responsible for her well-being. That feeling of responsibility had me worried about what might have happened to her eye.

She rolled past the house at 10 miles an hour, and waved. She drove like an old lady, always overly cautious of her surroundings.

When she needed her first car, I volunteered to help her find one. I found the old Camry on Craigslist, and went with her to buy it. After some negotiating and a few crazy-eyed stares, we got the car for $600.

She’d saved $300 from babysitting, and I loaned her the other $300, which she paid back promptly.

The car was ugly as fuck, but served her well.

After pulling into her drive, she paused, and then backed up. She then turned toward my home, drove the sixty or so feet, and pulled into my drive.

She got out of the car and grinned. “How’s it going?”

Out of her Harley uniform and wearing her trademark hoodie, her appearance was a far cry from what she looked like at the dealership. I was relieved to see that she’d changed clothes, seeing her in her Harley gear brought on a string of mixed emotions I wasn’t prepared to deal with.

I tapped the empty lawn chair on my right and raised my bottle of beer. “Going good, as always. Have a seat.”

She flopped into the chair. “What’s tonight’s project?”

“Relaxation.”

She looked at me. “Not going to tinker on your bike?”

“Nope.”

She scrunched her nose. “Just going to sit and stare at Roman’s porch?”

“Is that his name?”

“The guy across the street?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Roman Aguilar. He’s nice.”

I shrugged. “He seems okay.”

I purposely put her chair on my right, so I could get a look at her left eye as we talked. After a few glances in her direction, I finished my beer and set the empty bottle on the drive.

“Been knowing each other for some time now, huh?”

“Us?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You and me.”

“Almost eight years.”