But before I could ask him, I was called away by an excited voice.
One that I was more than willing to be dragged away from the entertainment for.
I turned to find Saylor hauling ass toward me.
When she was close enough, she launched herself into my arms and wrapped her legs and hands around my body.
“Hey,” she said softly, looking down into my face, a wide grin making my heart happy for the first time since the accident earlier in the day.
“Hey,” I said, squeezing her closer. “What are you doing here?”
She scrunched up her nose.
“I heard about that accident,” she said softly. “And I wanted to give you a hug.”
This girl, I thought. She was it for me.
Her legs slowly dropped from my hips, but even when her feet were touching the ground, I still didn’t let her go.
I held her for the longest of times, and even when the shift change started pouring in and out around me, I held her.
Nobody stopped to talk, and I was grateful.
My day really had been shit.
And I was glad that I had Saylor to make it just a little bit right again.
“Come on,” she said. “I had your momma drop me off.”
I let her loose finally, allowing her to step back.
“I have to go get my shit out of my locker,” I said.
She pointed to my bike.
“I’ll wait right there.”
When I came back, she was right where she said she would be.
When I arrived, throwing my leg over the bike she was already straddling, I said, “Where to?”
And, smiling widely, I drove us to every single one of my favorite places in town, much the same as I’d done for her the other day when she was upset.
Except we didn’t go home with our goodies. We went to a park right in the middle of town and ate until we couldn’t eat anymore.
Then I watched the sunset with her until the last ray of light disappeared from the sky.Chapter 12If smoking marijuana causes short-term memory loss, what does marijuana do?
-A suspect to Downy
Saylor
I smiled at the postman that handed me the large envelope.
“Have a good day,” I waved. “See you tomorrow!”
The postman grinned and gave me a thumbs up in return.
“See you tomorrow, Saylor!” he called.
I closed the door on his retreating back, then took the envelope that was addressed to Lock and me into the kitchen where he was making us sandwiches.
“What’s that?” he asked.
I looked at the envelope.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But look how much this stamp was for! That’s twenty-five dollars!”
He frowned and looked over at it where I’d twisted it around on the counter.
“I didn’t even know they made a twenty-five-dollar stamp.” He paused. “Is it heavy?”
I shook my head.
“No,” I immediately denied. “It’s actually pretty light. Feels like a bunch of documents or something. It says do not bend.”
“Open it,” he suggested. “Who’s it addressed to?”
I picked it up and turned it so that he could read the address label.
“Both of us?” he frowned. “What the fuck?”
He pulled a knife out of the drawer and started to smother his sandwich in so much mustard that he’d be wearing it by the end of his sandwich if he wasn’t careful.
There was no doubt in my mind that he would be wiping it out of his beard.
He was pretty messy when it came to eating and keeping it out of his beard.
Then again, my father was, too.
It must be a beard thing.
Though, Lock’s wasn’t anywhere near as bushy as my dad’s was, and he still managed to catch everything in it.
“Open it,” he said again.
So, I did, ripping into it without care.
“Maybe it’s a wedding invitation for Pace and Oak…” My voice trailed off when I saw a picture.
I frowned.
Then I realized what I was seeing.
A penis.
A man’s hard penis with his hand wrapped around his cock.
I froze, momentarily stunned.
“What is it?” he asked when I remained silent.
I swallowed hard.
“A penis.” I found myself nearly choking on the words. “Umm,” I blinked. “A lot of pictures of penises.” I narrowed my eyes. “I think he’s masturbating.”
“So definitely not a wedding invitation,” Lock said as he put the mustard away and then came to my side.
He frowned when he saw the penis in all of its glory.
The man’s hand that was holding the penis had black painted fingernails. One of those fingernails was ragged and chipped, as if the man had taken to biting that fingernail in particular.
“What the fuck?” Lock asked, frowning hard.
I surrendered the pictures as he shouldered me over and swiped them from me, looking over his shoulder as he too went through the photos.
When he got to the last one I’d looked at, he froze, then brought the picture up closer to his face.
“Lock…” I said.
“Son of a bitch,” he cursed, dropping the pictures as if they had suddenly formed into something poisonous.