Page 23 of Saints & Sailors

After sifting through Scott’s collection, I settled on a B-sides album from The Smiths.

Danny loved The Smiths. We used to sit up for hours and complain about being born too late to see all the greats.

The thought made me miss home. My friends. My boys.

I dug my phone out of my back pocket and dialed Ian.

No answer.

I rang Jack.

No answer.

Confused, I called Danny. The phone rang and rang until he finally picked up.

“What’s up, Say?” He sounded tired and stiff.

“Hey, what’s up?” I sat down on the floor, all too thrilled to be speaking to someone I knew and loved.

Over on his end, Danny sighed. “Nothing much.”

“I tried calling the others, but they wouldn’t pick up. They must be sleeping something off. It’s not that early over there, is it?”

Danny didn’t return my humor. “They’re probably busy.”

Hardly. It wasn’t like any of them took their jobs seriously. “Too busy for a friend?”

“Well some of us have shit to do.”

The attitude leaking into his tone startled me. Danny was the more serious one of our bunch, but he never got this upset before.

“Wait,” I said. “What’s going on?”

The silence between us caused a knot to form in my stomach.

“Danny?” I pushed on.

“Listen, Say, you got a lot of shit to work out down there. Get to know your dad, make new friends, turn a new leaf. Let LA go and move on,” my friend told me. “There’s nothing here for you but trouble.”

“I like my old friends,” I said through clenched teeth. “And my old life.”

“You almost killed Jack and that’s just not okay,” Danny replied. “This isn’t a joke. You really fucked-up this time. Don’t call any of us, I mean it. You just…you just be good, okay?”

“Oh, fuck off, Danny. This isn’t funny. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Once more he sighed. “Goodbye, Saylor. Be good, I mean it.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond before hanging up.

I fell on my back and stared at my phone at the ended call.

Seriously?

What the fuck?

First my own mother, and now my boys?

A scowl formed on my face as I abandoned my phone beside me. As my eyes grazed over the ceiling, I could hear Morrissey in the background singing about being unlovable.