Chapter 22

Hunter

I lit a smoke as I parted ways with Deacon at the stairwell to my apartment and started to make my way down the block to the auto shop.

There wasn’t a soul on the street and barely any signs that anyone lived on it. I might have actually been able to get used to this place if I would have kept fucking quiet and minded my own business. It could have actually been okay. I should never have taken work with Dennis and I should never have mingled with civilians. I should have just found a quiet place to crash, drink and sleep. I could have lain low during the day, and let myself out to breathe at night. It’s how I lived back in Boston except that city pulsed just as hard at night as it did during the day. Or at least that’s how it was in the neighborhoods I spent my time in. It was a different crowd than the day, but it was one I was more comfortable in. Hookers, druggies, drunks, criminals, general fucking lowlifes. Those were the people that came out at night and filled my streets. Those were the people I could live with because they minded their own business. No one gave a flying fuck who you were, so long as you kept to yourself and stayed out of their way. Nobody looked twice if you were beating someone down with one hand and chugging a bottle of whiskey with the other in the middle of the goddamn sidewalk. No one gave a shit if you fucked some broad up against the wall in an alley before you dropped her on her ass and you both went your separate ways. No questions asked and every bastard for themselves.

Even that shit grows tired though. Same faces, same bullshit. People are people and most of them get sick of being alone. They want to talk to someone. Even if that person has, Don’t fucking talk to me, tattooed across his forehead, like I did.

I didn’t even know I wanted out of Boston until the night I skipped town. It didn’t even dawn on me until I was pedal to the fucking floor on the interstate, sucking on a bottle of booze. I didn’t belong anywhere and I didn’t give a shit about anyone. That’s what I fucking accepted that night. I’d be there for Deacon in a fucking heartbeat because he’s my fucking brother, but he didn’t need me and I didn’t need him. That’s why we could spend so much time together. We left each other the fuck alone except when it was absolutely necessary.

The general want and need for another human being is something that never made sense to me. People served a purpose and then they didn’t. End of fucking story. I’d been in this shit town surrounded by these fantasy world motherfuckers for almost a week, and they damn near got their claws in me. They had me mistaking myself for some sort of hero. Had me thinking that some piece of pussy was worth fucking up my life for. Fuck that. That’s never been who I was, and it never will be.

Good fucking riddance, Stone Peak, Montana. You almost had me.

I put my cigarette out with my boot when I got to the front of the shop. I made my way around back to the office entrance and peered in the window. Sometimes after a good piss up, Denny would sleep it off on the couch in there so he didn’t have to stumble his drunk ass home the extra few blocks.

No sign of drunk Denny tonight though.

I tried the door handle and hoped he had at least forgotten to lock up. No such luck. I took a step back and kicked the fucker in, sending it crashing against the wall.

No alarm. No guard dogs. Nothing. You have to love a sleepy town’s security systems.

I fumbled around in the dark until I found the light and flicked it on. The office was a goddamn mess, but I knew the keys to the tow truck were in there somewhere.

Jesus Christ, Denny. I’m a fucking slob, but at least I don’t own a lot of shit.

There were half eaten sandwiches, open porno mags, paperwork from God knows how long ago. I noticed an unopened can of beer sitting next to the antique machine Denny called a computer. I picked it up and cracked it open, taking about half of it down in two gulps. It was piss warm, but tasted good after swilling whiskey with Deacon for the last few hours. It’s always good to switch it up from time to time. I finished the can and threw it over my shoulder on some pile of shit that was lying around.

I was tossing anything loose off the desk when, all of the sudden, I heard the familiar jingle of a keychain hitting the floor.

There they were. I’ll have her back in a few hours, Denny. Keep dreaming of burnt bacon and young pussy you could never catch.

I made my way to the front of the shop just as I saw and heard Deacon pull up out front in his vintage Camaro.

Jesus Christ, Deacon. Bring a louder fucking automobile next time. Dickhead.

I walked toward the entrance, unhinged the lock, and threw up the sliding door. No sense in being quiet since old Deacon was driving a roaring machine in a town where you’d hear a pin drop.

“Nice car, asshole. Real fucking subtle. Why don’t you hit the horn? I don’t think everyone is awake yet.”

Deacon just leaned toward the passenger side and smiled as he revved the engine and made the car roar.

“Subtle like beating two motherfuckers to death in a small town diner at noon? That kind of subtle?”

“Yeah that same kind of subtle, dickhead. And they lived. So, I guess for me that is kind of subtle.”

Deacon laughed as he sat back and took a pull of the whiskey bottle.

“Move that fucking beast back so I can pull the truck out. This place isn’t far. Just follow me.”

He saluted me as he reversed.

What a dick.