Page 5 of At The End Of The Day

He didn’t react.

“Hey. Dash!”

Twisting his waist, he glared, his lips thin. “Hm?”

My brows furrowing, I jutted my chin and took another drag. “What’s up with you, man? You’ve been quiet all day. You okay? Did something happen when you went to Walmart this morning?”

Heaving a long sigh, his attention returned to the window. “Did you know I got my nickname from high school?”

My eyelids thinned. Okay, this was weird. “Uh, no. I didn’t know that.”

His head was bobbing, the fingers tapping faster. “Yeah, I uh. Ahem. I got it from track.”

My brows shot upward, the cigarette pausing in front of my mouth. “Really?”

Huffing, he turned away from the window, snatched my smokes, and retrieved a cigarette, hastily lighting it. Pulling a deep inhale, he sighed the smoke through his nose, his focus now on the monitors. A muscle in his jaw flexed, a leg bouncing erratically. His voice gruff, he said, “I was the fastest in Connecticut.”

Connecticut? I thought he was from Florida. How did I know so little about this man when he’d been by my side every single day for close to fifteen years?

“In 1990, Henry Neal ran the one hundred meter dash in ten point fifteen seconds. He set a national and state record. You know that record stood until May of this year? Some kid in Austin beat it with a ten point thirteen.”

I whistled, very impressed. The only way I could ever run that fast was if someone was chasing my ass. Even then, I’d have to trip someone slower to get away.

“My senior year of high school, I ran it in ten point eleven.”

I paused with the cigarette in front of my mouth a second time. Slow blinking, I tipped my head to peer at his profile. If he was that damn good, why the hell was he a Serpent? Why wasn’t he a professional athlete in the Olympics, or something?

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his nostrils flaring. “When I ran it that fast, it was just me and my coach, so it didn’t count. Our word against everyone else, type thing. So, we set it up to make it official with official people there and stuff.”

I took the drag and blew the smoke out the corner of my mouth, studying his hardened expression.

“Got too cocky,” he stated simply, his fingers curling around the butt, crushing the cigarette. “As soon as I shoved off, I pushed too hard and ruptured my Achilles tendon. I was out for the rest of the year.”

“Shit.” I shook my head and tapped off the ashes. Noticing he had completely forgotten about his, I leaned over, watching his features while carefully tearing off the cherry before it burned his fingers.

He didn’t even notice.

I tossed it in the ashtray but remained quiet.

“Dad no longer wanted anything to do with me since I wasn’t gonna go to college no more. I was attending the most elite, private school in America. The Hotchkiss School in Connecticut. Eighty thousand dollars a year so someone else could be responsible for me and my parents could do whatever the hell they wanted without the burden of a child.”

His eyes were moving about, scanning the screens, but stopped on one in particular, the muscle in his jaw flexing. I followed his line of sight and found Tyler limping to the refrigerator. Swinging open the door, he grabbed a bottle of water, ripped off the cap, and chugged it, his face contorted in pain. My stomach sinking, I had a feeling I knew where this was going. My concentration returning to Dash, I found him sweating and swallowing repeatedly.

“He gave me fifty grand and a car and sent me on my way. It wasn’t even a new car, it was ten years old. I was headed to Tijuana because I heard a lot of crazy stories about going out there and getting drunk and pussy.”

I tried to hide my cringe and searched the monitor for my sister. She was in the master bathroom, fresh from a shower, brushing her long hair. I’d never had sex with a woman before, never had the urge. A few days from being thirty-one years old, and I’d only ever been with Billy. How did I know I was truly gay? Was there a chance I could like women?

“Stopped off in Mobile to get an oil change and rest a few days when I bumped into Jackyl. A few days later, he introduced me to you. Never left.”

My attention darted back to him, my own cigarette now forgotten.

“I’ve barely spoken to my parents since. Just a few words here or there for important things. They send money for Piera every month, but it’s just transferred. They ain’t never even seen her. Never even sent them a picture. They don’t care.”

His chin lowered, a hand covered his face. “I used to bet on bitch when he was in school. Never lost when he played.”

A brief silence fell over the room, his leg bouncing again.

“I dunno. When Jackyl told me to take him out.” His mouth clamped and he shook his head, his brows furrowing deep. “I wanted to hurt him so bad, Vin. I wanted to take away from him what had been taken from me. I was all too happy to make sure he never went pro.”