Page 21 of Property of Player

I sip my drink, and the bartender brings me a piece of paper.

“Kayla said to give you this.”

I unfold it and scan the handwritten scribble. It’s Taylor’s work schedule and Kayla’s phone number with the words: in case you need any help. I glance back and see her watching me from the hallway. When I grin, she turns and walks off.

Stuffing it into my pocket, I polish off my drink and stand.

Walking outside, I swing my leg over my bike. I’ve ridden all up and down the roads today, but with that schedule tucked in my pocket and apparently Kayla’s blessing, I feel renewed.

My phone goes off, and I read the text.

BECK: Pony and I are at your house. Bring more beer.

I roll my eyes and add a stop at the gas station to my route, then pull out.

Twenty minutes later, I coast up my drive and climb from my bike, pulling a twelve-pack from my saddlebag and heading inside.

I find them on the back deck, smoking a joint at the table. I pass them each a beer and set the pack in the middle of the glass top.

“I suppose I know what this is about,” I say.

“Has Dad lost his mind?” Pony spits out, passing me the joint.

I take a toke and lean back. “It’s a done deal, boys. Let it go.”

“He wants us to help him pack the house up Saturday,” Beck says, taking the joint from me. “You believe that? That’s gonna suck.”

“Because you’ve gotta work?” I ask with a smirk.

“No, asshole, because we’ll be packing our childhood, and we’ll never see that house again. Mom’s not buried in the ground. She’s in that house.”

“Ma’s gone, Beck,” Pony says.

My eyes hit his. “No, she’s not, little brother. She’s here.” I slap my chest. “She’s in all of us.”

It’s not the answer he wants, but it’s all I’ve got.

Beck changes the subject. “Weird seeing Taylor again today, huh?”

“Yeah. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head all day.”

“You thinkin’ about takin’ up with her again?” Pony asks.

I shrug. “Maybe.”

Beck chuckles.

“What?” I ask.

“I’ve known you my whole life, Player. One thing you ain’t is wishy-washy. You either are or you aren’t. And I’m betting you've already decided.”

“After what happened to Debbie, I’m not so sure. Last thing I want is to pull Taylor into this life and have something happen to her.”

“Bad things happen to people. Car crashes, illnesses, crime… You can’t stop living because you’re afraid.”

“Oh really? When’s the last time you went to a movie theater? That mass shooting at the metroplex got to you, and you haven’t been to one since.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “That’s different.”