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Chapter Twenty-three
Rayne
“Sometimes the gear will stick, but just put some muscle into it and it’ll go,” Trent coached Rayne on driving his raggedy truck he’d let him borrow while he and Wood had their anniversary night.
It was a little after six, and Chelsea wasn’t going to be off work for another few hours, but Rayne asked for the truck so he could pick up the rest of his belongings from his uncle-in-law’s house in Portsmouth. Edison had done him another solid and had payroll cut him a check for his first week, which gave him enough to pay his back-owed rent. His paycheck wasn’t going to make him rich, but it was enough for what he needed to do, and he was more than grateful.
His dick of an uncle had refused to let Rayne get the rest of his belongings after he’d moved out, even though he only owed for one month. He didn’t want to leave his things, but when his uncle had started to get suggestive and handsy, Rayne knew he had to go before he ended up back in jail.
“That smells delicious, Trent. What are you making?” Rayne had finished packing his overnight bag; now he was raiding the cabinets for his snacks to take to Chelsea’s for their movie.
“It’s prime rib.” Trent opened the oven door and checked the sizzling hunk of beef. “Edison told me how to make it. He had us over one night a couple months ago, and Wood went crazy over it. This is supposed to be the easy version, but it’s taking two hours, and this damn loaded baked potato has like ten ingredients.”
Rayne took in the romantic setting, the immaculately cleaned trailer, the long-stem candles that were burning on the table, and the wrapped gift waiting for Wood on the couch. Rayne couldn’t wait until he could do special things like that for the man he loved. But until then…
“Enjoy your night, Trent. And happy anniversary,” Rayne said on his way out the door.
“See you tomorrow,” Trent hollered back.
“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Don’t show my face again until late tomorrow,” Rayne muttered on his way down the driveway.
To his surprise, the truck drove a lot smoother than he thought, and the radio was already tuned to a smooth jazz station, so Rayne turned it up and enjoyed his small moment of independence.
He backed the pickup truck into his uncle’s driveway, not surprised to see his late-model Cadillac was gone. He worked security overnight at the Portsmouth shipyard, but his uncle always liked to eat dinner and down a few drinks before his shift started, so Rayne had plenty of time to collect his stuff.
He slid his key into the lock, then peeked his head inside first to see if Zelda was in her kennel. He heard the full-grown Rottweiler growling near the kitchen and knew she was locked up, otherwise, she’d be at the door snarling. Zelda would recognize who he was, but the dog didn’t like anyone that his uncle trained her not to like. And he never minded using Zelda as an intimidating weapon when Rayne had been there.
The house smelled dank and musty, like always, since his uncle never opened the windows or doors to allow any fresh air inside. He was a miserable, lonely alcoholic whose wife and family had written off long ago. But that’s how Rayne’s relatives handled people who gave them problems. They tossed them to the side just like they did him.
Last year, Rayne had moved around from house to house, couch to couch with what he could haul in two large suitcases, but he had far more clothes and personals that he was constantly looking for places to store. Even as it was, Chelsea was allowing him to put his overflow in her garage since there wasn’t enough room for him to keep it all at the trailer. Rayne gathered the last of his toiletries out of the bathroom and his hair products that had cost some horny nerd a mini fortune and loaded it in the back of the truck with the last of his suitcases. His back was protesting, but he was doing it with a smile, glad that evil bastard hadn’t thrown all of his stuff away.
Rayne scanned his room one last time. He made sure to leave it neat, even stripping the sheets off the bed and folding them. Rayne removed nine twenties from his wallet and put them on the nightstand, then tucked it back in his jacket pocket when he heard the front door open and slam closed.
Fuck me.
“What you doing here, boy?” a slurred voice called out as heavy footsteps stomped down the narrow hall. Rayne glanced up to see his uncle’s bulky frame filling the door, his furious scowl leveled on him.
I was just thinking that exact same thing about you. Worry mingled with irritation. “I came to get the rest of my stuff out of here and pay you your money, Uncle Robert.”
“I told you, stop fuckin’ callin’ me that. I ain’t ya damn uncle, boy.”
Rayne resisted rolling his eyes, not wanting to piss this jerk off more. His step-uncle’s temper ranged between fury and oppression. “You married my mom’s sister. So that makes—”
“That makes you nothing to me,” he snapped, spittle flying out and landing on Rayne’s chin.
Gross. “That’s fine,” Rayne agreed. He didn’t want to be related to this asshole anyway. “Well, here’s your money. This is for the last month I was here. Even though I was gone by the eleventh, I gave you the full month. So… we’re square.”
Uncle Robert… well, Robert snatched the money and quickly riffled through the few bills. “This ain’t enough.”
Rayne’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“I lost my job last week.” Robert stumbled back into the door, and Rayne noticed he had a crinkled brown paper bag in his hand. “I had to raise the rent.”
“Well, that’s an issue for your next tenant.”
“Naw. I’m making it a issue for you.” His uncle came closer, his eyes glassy and unfocused, but his snarl was firmly in place. Fear chased over Rayne’s skin like an icy wave. “You can pay me with money… or…”
Rayne brought his hand to his hip for his messenger bag that contained his stun gun, but it was in the back seat of the truck. Fuck! He couldn’t show fear or weakness, otherwise his uncle would pounce, so Rayne mustered up every ounce of courage that he didn’t feel.
