Today's Promises (Promises #2)(12)

Reaching for another stick of gum, to prevent what I fear is about to become inevitable, I check the bathroom door to make sure it’s still closed.

It is.

No surprise there.

Jaynie went in a couple minutes ago to take a shower before bed. Or that’s what she claimed she was doing. Though water is running in the bathtub, I suspect it’s all a cover. She’s probably sitting on the floor, chowing down on multiple candy bars.

We all have our demons.

“Yeah, like you and cigarettes,” I remind myself.

When I start taking off my jeans, readying for bed myself. I come upon the small card, a business card, in the back pocket.

Shit, I have to hide this from Jaynie, or she’ll flip.

It’s bound to come out eventually, though. Yeah, soon enough I’ll have to confess where I went after lunch with Crick.

Most of what I told Jaynie was how it really went down. Just not all of it.

The interview went well, as I expressed, but it took far less time than I expected. Afterward I had a lot of time to kill, before the evening bus was due to take me back to Lawrence. I considered walking home, for about a minute, but then I ran across Crick.

My old friend kept me sane during my time away from Jaynie. And despite his past—he was once addicted to meth—he’s a stand-up dude. I was happy to see him again, as the only sad part when I left Forsaken to return to Jaynie, was me thinking I’d never again see my good friend.

But there he was this afternoon, driving down the main drag in a cable company truck. I was standing in front of the job center, a spot where we used to hang out and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes before work.

I started waving like a madman, hailing him down. “Hey, Crick!” I called out. “Whoa, man, hold up.”

He slammed on the brakes when he saw me. And then he pulled over to the curb, to just beyond where I was standing.

Smiling, I ran up the sidewalk and skidded to a stop by his truck.

Reaching over the front bench seat, he rolled down the passenger-side window.

“Flynn, my man,” he said, breaking into a genuinely happy smile. “You look glad to see me.”

“I am, man. I am.”

“So, I gotta ask,” he went on. “What the hell are you doing back in this goddamn dirtbag town?”

“Looking for work,” I replied, chuckling.

“Really, huh?”

“Yep.”

He nodded to the job center, his stringy, dishwater-blond hair moving right along with his bobbing head. “They have anything for you in there?”

“Actually, they did. I saw an ad in the paper the other day, and it said, ‘come to the job center, interview on the spot.’”

“Great. How’d it go?”

Smiling, I informed Crick. “I got hired on the spot. You’re looking at one of the newest workers on the construction crew that’ll be putting up those fancy apartments out on Route Nine-Ten. You know the ones, right? There’ve been signs everywhere, bragging about how nice they’ll be.”

“Yeah, I know the ones you mean,” he said. “So, when you start?”

“Tomorrow.” I rapped my fist on the roof of his truck. “But enough about me. What’s this new ride all about? You work for the cable company now?”

Crick looked proud as ever when he said, “I do, kid. Right as snow, I do.”

I chuckled. Damn, I’d missed this guy. Crick’s a trip, always spouting off his own crazy-ass mixed-up versions of well-known sayings.

Instead of correcting him and saying I think the saying goes ‘right as rain,’ I said, “That’s great, man.”

Crick then mentioned how it was his lunch hour.

Since I had plenty of time to spare, I said, “Well, I got nothing to do right now.”

He then asked if I wanted to join him, and I said, “Hell, yes.”

When I hopped in the truck, he warned, “Now, it ain’t gonna be nothing fancy. I only got ‘nough money for one of them cheap fast food value meal deals.”

“Hey, I hear ‘ya. Cheap works for me.” Sighing, I added, “I’m kind of low on funds myself.”

We ended up rolling through the drive-thru of the local McDonald’s. Crick ordered two of those value meal deals, and he asked for them to be super-sized. To this day, it cracks me up that he stays skinny as f*ck when he eats like a horse. I had to give him some good-natured grief about it, of course.

After I finished my burger, I said, “Dude, you are a machine. Where do you put it all?”

“Fast metabolism,” he replied, polishing off his extra-large fries.

“Hell, you must’ve been skin and bones when you were on meth,” I remarked.

“Fuck, kid, I looked like one of them there skeletons you hang on the door at Halloween.”

“Shit.”

Crick lowered his voice. “I remember you looking like a bag of bones at one time too. And it wasn’t all that long ago.”

“Yeah, I know.” I blew out a breath. “Only thing different was my days as a bag of bones wasn’t from drug use. Allison Lowry was literally starving me and Jaynie before we got out of that place.”

Crick knows all about our past, and he shook his head, disgusted. “Yeah, I remember you telling me about that crazy bitch and the things she was doin’ to y’all. That was some f*cked-up shit right there.” He gestured to my jeans and flannel shirt, to the clothes that no longer hang on my body but instead showcase how bulked up I’ve become. “Look at you now, though, kid,” he said. “You’re big and strong and healthy. And those are the things that matter. You beat that bitch, yeah?”