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Fifty
Skye
Shane did not appear before my shift ended to pick me up from the Marina restaurant. He usually waited at the bar an hour before I got off as I wiped the tables clean and served the final customers. Not seeing him should have concerned me, and yet…I felt a bubble of excitement that I might actually have the night to myself.
I called up Leo, knowing he wasn’t going to answer. He never answered. Always busy, sometimes not home at all, this was how it had been for a few months now. But I called him anyway in case he later asked why I didn’t.
With this opportunity I called Hunter over and over again. At one point, I left a very pointed message to the tune of, “Leo’s not picking up and I don’t have a ride home. It’ll be midnight when I get off, and unless you want me walking home alone in these dangerous Brown Bay streets, have your truck out front of the gate to pick me up.”
It was ridiculous because a) this side of Brown Bay wasn’t dangerous and b) I could have asked one of the staff from the kitchen to drop me off in front of Leo’s building. If push came to shove, I could have also walked for a half hour to the trailer park and crashed with Mom and Kurt, even though that walk on the dark, empty road gave me the creeps (I was never the same after Loraine Itani’s shitshow).
I was nervous after leaving the voicemail because I didn’t like to consider the possibility Hunter might not be waiting for me when I got out after closing, and so I chewed on my thumbnail, worrying, and then stressing about the fact that I was probably making it more of an issue than it really was.
If he wasn’t there, it meant he was busy himself.
But what the hell was Hunter busy doing? Was he spending all his time working, or was becoming a biker his entire life now? And what did “becoming a biker” even entail?
It had been eight weeks since the cabin, and his texts had petered off to nearly none at all. He chalked it up to working hard and then feeling too tired when he got home. All reasonable excuses. Except “home” wasn’t at the trailer park anymore. I knew this because I showed up asking for him, and Kayla said he had moved along. Why hadn’t he told me he’d left?
Perhaps Leo was right, and Hunter had put the Warlords club first.
By the time I locked up and got to the locked gate to scan my key card, it was lightly raining, and I was hurting over the whole thing. I walked along the cobblestone path, passing the marina office and laundromat, then the wheelbarrow section next to the garbage. I got to another gate, one that didn’t need a key card and swung it open. The streets were dark and deserted when I stepped out and into the parking lot, glancing briefly at a raccoon in one of the garden beds that swung his own eyes at me, and you didn’t know the true look of judgement until a raccoon turned to look at you, black beady eyes filled with vitriol for sharing the same air as it.
“Yeah, whatever,” I hissed at the pest. “Look the other way, shithead.”
I kid you not, it swung its head at me the entire way.
I was tired, worked up over a raccoon with judgy eyes, and possibly not in the best frame of mind when I eventually swung my gaze to the empty parking lot.
Empty.
I shook my head, pulling out my phone to call a taxi because, okay, yeah, that was also a logical option for me.
And, okay, I should have called the Brown Bay Taxi Service because I’d never faulted them before, but I wound up calling Hunter—it couldn’t be helped.
Voicemail. Again.
“You’re not here,” I said, shrugging like he could see it. “It’s fine, Hunter. You know, you’ve left me stranded and all, but that’s cool, don’t worry about your best friend of over a decade. The one with a pussy currently standing in the dark and, you know, if I go missing, it’s your fault, but I probably won’t, so don’t worry about it, but…in case I do, I hope you feel the slightest bit of remorse for this.” I paused, shuddering at my words.What the hell am I doing?“I’m actually just venting, Hunt, and gonna call the taxi, so really, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you when I suddenly exist to you again—”
The sound of a loud engine cut me off. Bright lights suddenly blared in my direction, and a blue truck—Hunter’s truck—turned into the lot, parking straight at the end.
Oh, fuck.
I quickly pocketed the phone, heart thumping as I ducked my head and hurried in his direction.He came.Well, shit, of course he did. Why did I doubt him?
I got to the truck a minute later, already soaked from the rain. I could see the dark outline of him through the passenger window. I opened the door, about to say hello when I heard from the phone he propped on the dashboard,“…Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you when I suddenly exist to you again.”
Oh, double fuck.
I hesitated before stepping in, staring at his profile. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his face unreadable.
“Hey,” I said cheerfully, wanting to die as I finally slid in, shutting the door awkwardly beside me. “It’s pissing down, eh?”
He didn’t speak for several moments. No, he just glared at the windshield wipers as they swung back and forth. I fastened my seatbelt, clearing my throat awkwardly.
“Sorry about the message,” I pushed out through a tight smile. “I, uh, had a bad evening. Lot of dickhead sailors came through and…” I licked my dry lips, sighing in defeat. “You didn’t message me back that you’d come pick me up, so…”
His finger tapped on the steering wheel, his gaze swinging to meet mine. “Are you defending your bullshit voice message?”
