If this Schwartz guy didn’t stop running his mouth, I was going to smack him in his jaw. I didn’t care about his plight. The guy looked like he came out of a bad 80’s rom com. But once I saw their truck, I knew exactly what had happened. Trent stole their fucking engine. Which meant they’d never get it back without a fight.

I knew it was Trent because he was the only bastard in town that combed that particular parking lot for spare parts. No one else was that stupid.

I didn’t know how to tell them. I didn’t really give a damn about Schwartz and his million dollar excuses, but the kid with him didn’t deserve it. He was young enough to get a pass.

I glanced at the radio clock on the dashboard. I was running late. That twink treated me like a modern day Neanderthal as if I wasn’t capable of carrying any real responsibilities. He had no fucking idea. I had someone back home that I had to worry about every single day.

It all came back to Trent. No matter how I tried to phrase the narrative in a positive way, it was still Trent’s fault. But somehow I was the one to get the finger shoved in his chest.

It was the way I looked. It was this stupid truck I drove. It was definitely my tattoos. After years of dealing with this shit, I had just come to expect the blame.

“So, your friend is a decent mechanic or something?” Schwartz asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” I muttered. Just a few more highway exits would bring us to Trent’s secluded house. I hated that bastard, but he had his own demons I knew he was battling. It was tough to forgive, but I kept trying. Every damn day I worked at that.

“Does he carry a gun too?” Schwartz asked. I sighed and gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t know you, so I’d rather not walk into an ambush.”

“An ambush?” Nice choice of words, guy. “You think I want to waste my time with you like this?” I asked.

Schwartz shrugged and ran his hand through his straightened hair, one more time. He grinned. It was his grin that pissed me off the most. He knew he was taunting me, but he just kept going.

“I don’t know. Maybe you like wasting your time on guys like me,” Schwartz said.

He was about half the size of me with a skinny build. He wore a tight, white undershirt that he neatly tucked into his pants. Even though he looked a little unkempt, he smelled good.

“Get this through your head, guy. I don’t waste my time on anyone,” I said. Wrong. I wasted my time on literally everyone in my life.

“Why not?” He hiked up his jeans, making sure that his crotch fit snug against the center. He lifted his shirt, revealing his soft stomach, and tucked it back in. I quickly glanced down at his soft skin, out of instinct more than anything. I wasn’t checking him out. It just… happened.

“I don’t know, I think I like being alone,” I said, looking away from him.

He caught my glance, smiling to himself. “I think you’re lying to me, Jax. You’re the kind of guy that likes to pretend his life is rough, huh? I bet you’re more social than you let on,” he said.

His words triggered me, and I wanted to throw him out of the truck. His hand grazed my seat. I smacked it away, turning angry again. “You don’t know a thing about me,” I snarled.

“Whoa there,” Schwartz whispered. “Calm down, dude. I’m just fucking around. God.”

I turned off my radio. I was so annoyed that I couldn’t even listen to my damn music. The plains were littered with splotches of snow, but it was getting warmer outside. In just a month, the snow would be gone.

As we pulled up to Trent’s house, I braced myself for an even worse situation. He was standing outside, smoking what was probably his third cigarette in a row. His black shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, and he looked jacked up on something not too nice. His crew stood next to him, kicking at the dirt and drinking cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I rolled down the window as I slowed down the car. “Hey, pussy!” Trent yelled out. “Nice truck, bro.”

“Hey brother,” I muttered.

“Brother?” Schwartz asked.

I held up my hand. “I don’t need a million questions right now. I’m going to help you get a new engine and then you can get on your way,” I said.

I stopped my truck and stepped out of the vehicle. Trent was my brother, but we didn’t see eye to eye on too much. Growing up, he was always destined to be someone more significant than our parents.

But then something happened. He grew up and lost control. He became the go-to drug dealer around town. He also liked to steal. We switched roles and departed from our relationship.

“You’re not going to give your brother a hug?” Trent asked with a crooked smile. He flicked his cigarette against his porch and sparks went flying.

“After what you did to the Cadillac?” I spat on the dirt next to his shoes. My eyes moved past him, toward his broken garage, half shut over my old Cadillac. I could see the seats, covered with tree branches and scratches.

Even with all this on the table, the bastard still pulled me in for a family hug, knowing how angry it made me. That was his thing. He loved to fan the flames and prod me. He was a little like that Schwartz guy, so it made sense that they met.

The two drifters jumped down from the truck. Trent creased his eyes and shook his head. “Who the hell are the twinks?” he asked.

Schwartz’s younger brother asked, “What’s a twink?”

“Hell, you don’t know what a twink is yet? I can teach you,” Trent said.

“Buzz off, Trent,” I muttered. Trent was the troll of trolls, and he adored making people angry. I knew what was about to happen.

“Hey, limp dick. Why don’t you shut your mouth?” Schwartz said as he walked up to the porch. He nonchalantly grabbed a beer from his cooler and popped it open with his teeth.

Trent kept a bewildered look on his face. He turned robotically and eyed Schwartz. “And this guy is…?”

“Schwartz. He needs a new engine for his 1978 Ford truck. I got a feeling you can help him out,” I said. Schwartz pulled back on the bottle and sighed with pleasure.

Trent’s face turned sour with repugnance. “A 1978 Ford? I doubt I have the engine he needs.”

This time, I wasn’t going to let my older brother get away with his crimes. He could steal from businesses all he wanted to. I didn’t agree with it, but I never once talked to him about because I knew it just would make things worse. But stealing from an individual person was not cool with me.

He could make me look like the bad guy all he wanted. I knew the truth.

I walked to the broken garage and forced the sliding door open with an old discarded baseball bat. I walked into the dusty, dark space and saw the stolen engine in question. I carried it out to the porch and set it on the top step.

“I think I’ve found something that might work,” I muttered.

“Hey!” Schwartz cried out innocently. “That’s the exact engine type.” I felt a sliver of pity go through me for Schwartz. I felt pretty bad for the guy, even if he did have a big, loud mouth. With gorgeous, thick lips. With lips that could grip…

“Trent is good with cars,” I added. “Aren’t you, Trent?” I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, knowing that I had him caught.

Trent turned red in the face, but he quickly faced the opposite direction to shield it from me. He walked to the porch and grabbed another beer. Standing right next to Schwartz, he opened the bottle with a lighter.

“I get by with my mechanic skills,” Trent said.

I had a feeling that both Schwartz and his brother had been through a lot. The state of his truck wasn’t that solid, and camping gear littered the seats, alongside old bags of fast food and trash. They had some smarts, but overall Schwartz was someone who got riled up too easy. He was naïve and self-righteous, even if he did have a good heart compared to Trent’s.

Schwartz reluctantly reached into his pocket. He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and the crumpled twenties that I gave to his brother. “I don’t have too much money,” Schwartz whispered, counting the bills to one hundred and sixty. He sighed, defeated.

“It’s on the house today,” I said, staring at Trent.

Trent downed the beer in one sitting, but he held the bottle loosely in the hand. “No can do, little brother,” Trent said. “I have to pay rent on Thursday.”

I carefully stepped onto his porch. The vibe changed considerably. I noticed Trent’s friends starting to rally around me, trying to play off their movements as casual.

Everyone from around here was a criminal, so it didn’t scare me to think they might do something irrational.

The sun was on the top edge of the horizon. In minutes, the plains would be shrouded in darkness. If anything, that was the one rule: don’t get caught hanging around here at night. We needed to get this over and done with soon.

“I said, the engine is free. These guys need some help getting home, and we’re going to be nice people and help them out,” I said, nudging him with my chest. Schwartz took two steps off of the porch. He poured the rest of his beer out behind him, with a sharp look of worry in his eyes.

I should have known what would happen next.

The bottle cracked over the side of my head and I just collapsed. My kneecaps dropped against the wood harder than cement. I got one glimpse of his friend handing the broken bottle to Trent. Schwartz looked petrified.

Trent climbed on top of me, holding his knee against my sternum. “I want you to get going, boy,” he said, with extreme malice oozing from every pore. “Don’t fucking come back here again.”

“You piece of shit. What about James? Are you going to ask him to do the same?” I roared.

He lifted his knee up and jabbed his kneecap into my solar plexus. All the air in my lungs soared out of me. Fuck.

What I didn’t anticipate were the two drifters from Nevada to help. But when I heard the metal clicking noise from inside of my truck, I turned to see something I least expected.

“Get off of him,” Lawrence said, holding the loaded gun.