Chapitre 29: Chapter 28: Becomin’ A Hired Bodyguard
Abby exited first, my hands gripping a wad of toilet paper to wipe away the evidence of our tryst still splattered over the door. Once all evidence was flushed down the toilet and I took another plunge under the cold faucet I stepped out of the bathroom.
"Have fun in there?" I nearly jumped out of my skin, my head snapping to the left. Leaned up against the white wall with red and black stripes running through the center of it was Kyle. His arms were crossed, a smirk on his bearded lips. The mountain of a man pushed off of the wall, his imposing figure casting a shadow over me.
"…Were we loud?" I asked, my face cringing as his grin widened.
"Nah, just a hunch, but congrats dude. She's a total hottie." His massive calloused hand patted my shoulder, his pearly white teeth revealed as he gave me a proud smile.
"Thanks, and thanks again for covering for me." We walked out of the hall, our shoulders brushing against the wall at the tight squeeze we made walking side by side.
"Don't mention it, we're bros and bros look after one another." With one last pat across my back that nearly bowled me over the big man walked toward the register to clock out. "Oh, I know you're in point trouble so I clocked in for you."
"Damn, you're a lifesaver." I smacked my forehead as I realized my stupid horny ass almost cost me my job.
"Can't lose our night shifter now can we? I don't want to pick up your shift and I know Jerry would be the type of prick to make me do that." He pulled his till out, the combination for the safe must've already been entered as he popped open the thick metal door. Taking my till out he handed it to me, his own going in the same spot mine had been. The hiss of the safe sealing hit my ears as he twisted the lock, a groan leaking from his lips as the big man got up from his kneeling position.
The safe was on the ground, bolted to the floor, and covered in a metal cabinet. If someone wanted the safe they'd need a torch or some really heavy equipment to get into it. Dad had always said there wasn't any money in robbing banks for the risk of being locked up in federal prison. No, Dad said robbing places like Huck's were much easier to get away with and I was inclined to believe him as he had friends who did this shit for a living.
"See ya, Romeo~!" Kyle waved, my cheeks heating up as he wiggled his eyebrows at me and Abby. The black-haired girl wasn't faring much better under his teasing look, a pink blush creeping across her cheeks. We only relaxed when his diesel truck whistled off into the sunset, my head shaking as a wry smile spread across my lips.
"He's an idiot, but definitely a good guy."
***
"Hey Abbs?" I asked as I came back from stocking one of the shelves, my hands wiping at the front of my jeans trying to get rid of the dust coating my fingers.
"Have a good day—what's up?" After talking to a customer she turned to me, her eyes narrowing at my sheepish look.
"Uh, I know this is probably a big ask for you but could you please buy me and my friends some booze for the game tomorrow?" Normally we'd get old man Jeb to buy it for us but that always involved doing chores around his house for free. It was worth it of course but if we could get it even easier from my girlfriend then obviously it would be the better choice.
"…Only on one condition." She sighed, her fingers tapping away at the counter as she gave me a deadly serious look. "I get to drive you home."
"Uh, sure but what about my friends?" I mean Billy didn't drink, but I still found it odd that she didn't seem to even care about them. In fact, as I mentioned my friends I watched her eyes dull.
"I'll hire a driver." She dismissively waved her hand like the idea of shelling out money for a designated driver wasn't the craziest thing ever. Her family was loaded though so it would make sense why something like that wouldn't phase her.
"Sounds good, here I'll give you—" I reached for my wallet in my left pocket (always kept it there), the old leather thing had seen better days as I ran my fingers across its frayed edges.
"Nope, I don't need it."
"But—"
"Seeing you all drunk and cute will be an adequate payment." I felt nervous about that statement, the way she licked her lips sending shivers down my spine.
"Fine, but don't go overboard. Me and Ricky want to get drunk not look bougie." Before she could retort the sound of an annoyingly loud engine filled the air. The distinct noise mix between a lawn mower and a moped it created as it revved immediately clued me into the fact that I hated this person. When the rainbow LED lights underneath a riced-out Honda Civic came into view my suspicions were all but confirmed.
The hood was covered in a cockpit-style matte black wrap, and honestly, it looked a hundred times better than the bright lime-green paint on the rest of the body. My eyes looked at the spoiler on the back, and the skirts at the bottom of the car leaving barely any space between the car itself and the ground. The loud thumping sound of some godawful song I couldn't even understand battered against the glass of the store, me and Abby sharing a look of mutual cringe.
Rolling to a stop the engine and music were mercifully cut off as the car parked in a handicap spot. The driver's door opened up, the tinted windows providing us with little visibility inside of the vehicle. A pair of pure white sneakers touched down across the worn asphalt of the parking lot. Faded skinny jeans clung to slender legs as a long spindly arm grabbed hold of the car door. Pulling himself up the man revealed his mop of curly black hair, the sides of his head were trimmed short while the curly strands on top were left longer.
His face was pale, a white porcelain that gleamed under the storefronts glowing light. A pair of black monolid eyes scanned the front of the store as he shut the car door. Each step he took caused his black cross earrings to swing back and forth, his hands diving into the front pocket of his hoodie to hide them from the nipping night air. He looked like one of those K-pop dudes some of the girls at school obsessed about, me and Abby groaning as we both recognized him.
*Bing, Bong*
"What's up E-man, dap me up!" His arms widened out as he spoke, his feet taking him right in front of the counter as he grinned at me. One of his hands was stuck out, my own reluctantly meeting his as the crisp sound of our palms slapping together filled the air. A firm handshake later and he was back to leaning over the counter, his hands pressing against the red top.
"Nothin' much, what brings you out here?"
"Rickster said this was where you was at so I thought I'd pop by and say hi. Congrats on the new girl, by the way, sup Abby?" His eyes turned to the girl in question, a polite nod was all he got in return as she drifted closer to me.
"Couldn't you have just gotten my number from Ricky?" Something wasn't adding up, and judging by the way his eyes drifted up at the security cameras told me he didn't want prying eyes in on whatever he actually came here for.
"Nah bro, we're partners now and that means you get to see all this," He motioned at his lanky frame. "In the flesh!"
"Hey, Abbs I'm going to go take a smoke break. Think you can cover for me while I do that?" She nodded, her eyes giving me a look that screamed 'Be careful'. Despite his rather unintimidating appearance Dylan Lee was actually the most dangerous man in Munford at least while Dad was still in the pen. Where Dad used violence to get what he wanted Dylan was the sneaky bastard with connections that reached far outside our little podunk town.
"Bro, you still smoke?"
"Uh, yeah, don't you?"
"Nah, I vape, it's much healthier." I highly doubted that but I could care less about his bad babits advice. My feet took me around the counter as we walked out of the store side by side, the man pulling out his green USB-stick-looking vape. The whirring sound it made as he put it against his lips filled the air along with a roiling cloud of white vapor leaving his nose.
"So what's actually up?" I asked as we walked around the back of his car, the man opening the back hatch. The hissing sound of the door opening hit my ears, the parking lot light casting a dim glow through the tinted window.
"Rickster said you guys lacked the tools to make sure my party goes off without a hitch, so I wanted to help with that." Several black cases of varying sizes sat in the back of his car, the man flipping up the latches on a smaller one to reveal a Glock 19 lying inside of the black foam cushioning.
"Jesus Christ, Dylan what the hell!?" I quickly closed the lid on the case, my eyes darting around the empty parking lot to make sure there wasn't a single witness.
"Chillax dude." The man spoke between hits of his obnoxious little smog box, his narrow eyes growing even smaller as he leaned his hands against the hatch.
"I thought this was a party where you planned on selling weed, why the hell are you armed like this?" The bigger cases probably contained guns with fun switches, and once again my eyes swiveled around looking for the ATF agents lying in wait.
"It is a party but after your Pops got put in the slammer the drug scene here all but died. No one was growing locally so I took it upon myself to do just that. In the few years I've been at it I've attracted some attention both good and bad from some high rollers in Lexington. Saturday, a few investors are going to be at the party and I need to make sure they think I can handle my shit." The reverent look in his eyes when he mentioned my father reminded me of the time I'd seen people praying at church. It was unsettling to see someone respect my father that much.
"And you think me and my friends who are still in high school will give them confidence?" I asked incredulously, my eyebrow raising at him.
"Dude, kids younger than you are dying in the streets right now. They don't care about age, they care about results and I have no doubt that you and your friends are the best in town." His words were followed by a pat on the back, my eyes narrowing at the touch.
"Then what's with the $200 pay, that doesn't scream 'best in town' now does it?" I snarked back, my voice imitating his. This asshole thought that 200 bucks would be enough for me to risk me and my friend's lives so that he could go make friends in the back room of Rita's.
"Okay, so maybe it was a bit of a lowball but—"
"$500 minimum for each of us, and if your deal goes good we'll take another $500."
"Bullshit, what do you think I'm made out of money or somethin'? You're asking way too much!"
"Well, I guess you'll just have to find some other guys for the job because there ain't no way messing with gangsters is worth 200 bucks." I turned to leave, but before I could the man relented with a groan.
"Ugh, fine! You drive a fucking hard bargain, Langston." We shook on it, my eyes meeting the desperate gleam in his eyes with a smile. It seemed there was trouble in paradise for our little wannabe gangster, his clammy palms giving me a limp-wristed shake.
"So are we just guardin' you or are you worried they'll be taking your stash too?"
"Just me, I don't really plan on bringing enough to justify them risking it to rob me. These guys are going to try and intimidate me, get me to agree to a shitty deal workin' for them or push me out of the game entirely. Your guy's job is to make me look tougher and prevent them from pushing bullshit on me."
"Sounds easy enough, so who are these 'investors'?"
"…fiends."
"Huh, what did you say?"
"The Fiends, the investors are the Fiends."
"…You're in deep shit aren't you?"
"How was I supposed to know about them staking a claim on Shelley County? They say I owe them $10,000 in unpaid 'fees'. I'm hoping that if I show them that I'm not a pushover they'll wave the fees and let me sign a mutual deal with them." I smacked my forehead, a groan leaking from my lips as I fought the urge to throttle the bastard. Even Dad was smart enough to pay the Fiends and yet Dylan here thought it was a good idea to pretend like he was the only criminal enterprise.
"…Even though I shouldn't, I'm still going to help you. Do you have any bulletproof vests though?" Dylan was the lesser of the two evils and I'd rather have him running the show than the much more violent biker gang. Plus, having the bastard owe us would mean we'd have connections to more jobs.
"Yeah, I've got some plate carriers. Thought it'd make you guys look professional."
"Did you get plates for them?"
"Yep, level 3 baby!" He rummaged through the back of his car as he fished one of them out, a stupid grin growing across his face as he shook the solid plate in my face like it was a fan.
"Good, after work, tonight meet me at Rivera's and we'll get this shit in my car so I can get it to the boys."
"Sounds good!" With that, my meeting with him concluded, the sound of his little moped-engined car roaring to life filled the air as I entered the store.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone