Daryl laughed loudly, then took another pull from his beer. “You know there’s one way to make sure I never get in a car with anyone but you…”
I rolled my eyes. “That reminds me, though. Did I tell you I’m getting more work with Franklin?”
Daryl shrugged. “You’re really going straight? I’ve got guys in Seattle I can hook you up with.”
I gritted my teeth, annoyed that he was still sticking to the same routine. “Sure am.”
Daryl drank quickly through his glass of beer, topping himself off regularly from the pitcher while we shot the shit. The tension about me leaving soon disappeared, and we got back up to our regular stories. Soon enough, Daryl had drunk the entire pitcher, although I’d only made it through half my glass.
“Grabbing a smoke,” he said, waving his cigarette in the air before exiting.
I frowned. There was something up with that guy. Fucked if I knew what it was, though.
I pulled my phone out, then opened up the last message in the group thread with Franklin and Rory. We only texted a little, but I liked to look at whatever they’d said to me last.
This time, it was Franklin who sent the last message, about two days earlier.
Mowing the yard! Look at that work shed pop!
Included with it was a picture of the shed. Rory stood to the side with Marlene in his arms and a baseball hat casting a shadow over his face.
I whimpered over how perfect it was for a while, and when Daryl came hurrying back in, I shoved the phone back in my pocket.
“Dude,” he said, “it’s fucked up.”
I scratched the back of my head. “What the hell are you on about now, Daryl?” Especially when he was drunk, that guy could be a real mess.
“Your car,” he said. “Check it out.”
I held his eye, then rushed out to the parking lot, my heart pounding. When I saw her sitting there with two slashed tires, I let out a sigh of relief.
“Fuck,” I said, grabbing Daryl’s arm. “I thought something real bad had happened.”
“Asher, buddy, your tires are slashed.”
I laughed. “Whatever. I’ll get new ones, no big deal. But that’s something that can be replaced.” I squinted, then looked around the parking lot. It was still pretty much empty, as was the little road that led back to the busy street. “But who the fuck did this?”
Daryl clasped my arm, and I realized he had another shot of whiskey in his free hand, although I had no idea where that even came from. “You got any enemies in town, man?”
I scoffed. “If I have any enemies, it’s just because I’m your friend. And as far as I can see, your ride is fine.” I turned my eyes on Daryl’s sportscar, then frowned. “Probably just some random kids.”
“Don’t you worry,” Daryl said. “I’ll drive you home. Let’s go get another pitcher, first.”
“Fuck no,” I said as he threw back the shot. “You know I don’t get in the car with drunk drivers.” I’d learned too much about car crashes to make that mistake. “I’ll drive and figure out a tow in the morning.” I held out my hand for his keys. “No more beer, though. I should get going.”
Daryl rolled his eyes, then slapped his keys in my hand. “Whatever you say,” he answered.
I could practically hear him roll his eyes, he was that enthusiastic about it.
I sighed as I climbed into Daryl’s car. Suddenly, I was feeling done with the night and much less sentimental. I didn’t want to be driving into the middle of nowhere just to have my tires slashed or having to change all my plans so that I could stop Daryl from drunk driving.
I had shit to do, actually, and I wanted to do it well.
Flicking on the radio, I found a rock station and started steering us toward the city.
“Take that road,” Daryl said, gesturing off to the side. “Back route to my place. It’s quicker.”
I nodded. Dropping him off at his hotel first sounded easier than making him stick around the apartment until he sobered enough to drive home. I headed down a long street, dotted with empty lots and big old houses.
“My grandpa grew up here,” Daryl said. “Somewhere in this part of town.”
“Oh yeah? I’ve never heard you talk about your grandpa.”
“He was an asshole, just like my dad.” He hiccupped, then slouched down in his seat. “Like father, like son.”
“Fuck that.”
We drove in silence for a minute. Then I noticed a car that was following it us. It inched closer and closer, tailgating me down the dimly lit road.
I glanced in my rearview mirror, thinking what to do, and then the brights flashed on.
“Fuck,” I said, wincing and turning away. Sparkles dotted my eyes, and I pressed on the gas, lurching ahead. “What the hell is this?”
“Those guys are always trying to follow me,” Daryl grumbled, still slouched down in his seat.
“What?” I asked, my heartrate accelerating. “They’re what?”
The car bumped against me from behind, and I hit the gas again, swerving as I jumped from forty up to fifty, a full fifteen over the speed limit. The car stayed a solid food behind me but kept pace.
Too dangerous. Cops. Pedestrians.
It was like I downed a full pot of coffee. All of my sense came alert, my fingers poised on the gear shift and my back straight in the seat. We were flying, but the world around us was slow motion, almost like it was under my spell.
I feel like a fucking superhero, I thought with a laugh.
The car laid on its horn, and in a flash, I spun into the other lane and kicked up some smoke as I took off down a side street.
“Why are they after us?” I yelled. “What is this?”
“They probably want what’s in the car,” Daryl said. “Sorry, Asher.”
“Fuck you,” I said, hitting the brakes to spin around another corner just as I saw the car turn down the street behind us. The wheels squealed, but even with my heart thumping, I felt clear and calm.
“Tell me what’s in the car, Daryl,” I said through gritted teeth, then yelled again. “Tell me!”
“Trust me,” Daryl answered. “You don’t want to know.”
The car lurched around the corner, then squealed our way. I realized with a start that there was danger no matter what I did, murder and jail around every corner.
I glanced to make sure Daryl was buckled in, then focused my eyes on the street in front of me. Tightening my hands around the wheel, I took in a deep breath, then let it out, relaxing all of my muscles.
Got to stay safe. Can’t mess up what matters.
I slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel. We went spinning to the side, and I held the arc just right, guiding us through an empty pavement lot on a breakneck squeal.
For one moment, I was face to face with the car chasing us. It was a plain black sedan, totally normal, except for the two men inside, each brandishing a gun while their faces contorted in screams.
They spun, and I watched with shock as the back of their car collided with a tree. Hitting the gear shift, I got ready to lurch forward and get the hell out of there before the cops showed up.
And then I felt the crunch.
I felt Daryl’s car shake and heard the crash of glass and metal and god knows what else. Everything thumped around me, and I groaned as my body threw itself against the tight seatbelt, then fell back hard against the door and the seat. When everything became still again, I had to blink back stars to see.