How We Deal With Gravity(44)
Chapter 11: Tomorrow
Mason
His Tahoe was easy to spot. There’s only one decent hotel this far north, so I took a guess this is where he’d be. I was right. I already walked the perimeter of his SUV—no car seats or girly shit lying on the seat. Not that it means he’s alone for sure, but I have a pretty good idea he made this trip by himself if he’s so concerned about keeping Avery and Max a secret.
I got here at about five in the morning, just as the sun was starting to show over the peaks. Cave Creek is eerily quiet this time of day—most of the drunks from the bars have long passed out and are off the road; the rich *s up the hill are not yet out for their jogs. I used to like to sit out on Ray’s porch at this time. Things were always…still.
This would have been easier if Adam’s parents still lived in town. I would have just driven over there and drug his pathetic self out into the street the moment I arrived. Instead, I’ve been sitting here in the hotel parking lot for the last hour, spitting sunflower seeds out my window. I hate sunflower seeds—you have to work too damn hard just to get to anything worth eating. And they don’t even taste very good. I chuck the rest of the bag out the window, deciding I’ll be long gone and don’t really care if Adam looks like a littering *.
My adrenaline kicks in fast when I see his door open; I force myself to breathe in slowly to keep my ass planted here in my seat. He’s got a small roller-bag trailing behind him. He’s leaving town—I knew he would. He took care of what he needed, got that off his conscience, and he’ll let some lawyer deal with the rest.
I’ve flipped on how to play this about a dozen times, but the closer he comes, the more worried I am that I’m going to miss my chance, so I push open the door of the Mazda and just see what comes out first.
“Hey! Adam, right? Adam Price?” I can see a smidge of recognition cast over him as I step closer.
“Do I know you?” he says, standing at the back of his SUV, and fishing in his pocket for his keys. His preppy sunglasses are dangling from his shirt collar, and I immediately regret not being able to knock them off his face.
“Yeah, Mason…Street. We went to…” he gets it now, I don’t even have to finish.
“Right, right. Street! Yeah, you’re doing that whole rock star thing. I heard some song of yours, I think?” he says. Fucking poser. He hasn’t heard any of my shit because there’s nothing to hear unless you come to a show. He thinks I’m on the goddamned radio because someone from high school probably posted something about me on Facebook once. I just let him believe it, whatever…maybe it will give me an edge.
“Yeah, well…so, you moving back to town?” I know the answer to this question, but I just want to watch him lie. I don’t know why, but somehow I feel like it will justify being allowed to punch him in the face.
“Ahhh nah. I was just visiting a friend,” he says, almost like he believes it. “I’m heading out now, back to Florida. Getting married…you?”
He’s got the hatch open, and part of me wants to bring it down on his head, but I don’t. I have to be careful, choose my moment. “Just in the Creek for a few weeks, you know…in between gigs, touring.”
He closes the hatch again, and he’s tossing his keys in his hands, so disinterested in anything other than himself.
“So you’re getting married, then. Huh…that’s great!” I fake, my insides about to boil over.
“Yep. She’s a single mom, kind of a sad story. But I love her kids, you know?” Everything about what he says makes me want to hit him harder, and I don’t know what one thing is the worst. I’m so mad, I actually start to laugh, and pretty soon, I’m laughing so hard I have to bend forward from my stomach cramping.
“What’s funny?” he asks. Dude’s so f*cking clueless about what’s coming at him next.
“Ohhhh, nothin’ man. It’s just…you. You are such a goddamned f*cking phony!” I speak through my laughter, and I’m pretty sure I sound like a crazy man—exactly what I’m going for. The expression on Adam’s face melts from someone having a great day—to a total nightmare—in about a tenth of a second, and that’s my cue.
I’ve got him pushed against the back of his SUV in seconds. His eyes are wide as hell, looking from side-to-side for someone to help, and the fact that he’s sweating bullets right now, the moisture literally beading up on his forehead in front of my eyes, has me so f*cking happy.
“Wanna know what’s funny, Adam? I know a single mom, too. And her story? Oooooph—it’s really sad. Strange thing, though, Adam. You know what makes her story so absolutely f*cked up?” he shakes his head quickly, and I swear I think I smell pee dripping down his leg. “You, Adam. You make her story sad. You’re an embarrassing man—if I can even call you that. I’m sure you remember, but you have a kid. A great kid, not that you’d know, because you haven’t seen him since you found out that sometimes being a parent’s f*cking hard work!”
“Who sent you?” he shouts, his paranoia kicking in now.
“Nobody sent me Adam. Like I said, I’m just in town…in between gigs. Taking care of some shit. But I know Ray. And I know Avery. And I’ve…been around…heard a few things. And I don’t like what I’m hearing, Adam,” I grit through my teeth, my forearm still pressed into his chest, all of my weight pinning him in place.