“It’s awesome for both of us, numbnuts.”
“Huh?” I reply, mindlessly ripping apart a Pearl Street Pub coaster. “What do I have to do with anything?”
“If I’m running Tire Depot, I want you by my side. Maybe as a manager or a fucking parts director. I don’t know, man. Shit, maybe you can open that vintage garage under the Tire Depot umbrella. You can finally work on classic cars more often. We can advertise it and shit. Could you imagine how cool your gramp’s truck would look in our showroom? Fucking white wall tires. Goddamn, I get hard thinking about it.”
I shake my head and hand the bartender my empty bottle when he hits me with a fresh one. “I guess that wouldn’t suck.”
“You’re damn right, it wouldn’t,” Sam bellows and clinks our bottles together. “Jesus Christ, we’d have everything in one shop. Tires, auto repair, and antique car restorations. We could advertise in Denver for that because you know people with classic cars will drive for good work. And you’re a fucking king at the classics, bro. You know this.”
I nod mindlessly, knowing what he’s saying is something we’ve dreamed about together a lot, but for some reason, I can’t get my mind off Mercedes.
“Dude!” Sam punches me hard in the shoulder.
In a flash, I’m on my feet, my rage billowing up faster than anticipated. My jaw is clenched so tight I think I hear my teeth crack.
Sam holds his hand back in surrender. “Chill the fuck out. I’m just trying to get you to snap out of this pissy mood. You need to get laid.”
“Fuck off,” I growl and drop back down on my barstool.
“It’s true. You’re pining over a fuck buddy, and it’s stupid.”
“She’s not a fuck buddy,” I growl and shove him in the arm. “Watch how you fucking speak about her. I’m not joking, man.”
“Okay, okay. But you gotta get your priorities straight. Don’t let that girl get in your head and force you to miss out on a great opportunity. I’m saying we can be business partners in the near future. I’m saying we’re going to make Boulder our bitch, and it’s going to be fucking fantastic.”
I nod solemnly and let his words sink in. It’s clear that Mercedes has been occupying all of my thoughts tonight, and that’s exactly the kind of shit I don’t need in my life. If she’s not going to call me, I’m not going to fucking stress about it. We’re casual. That’s what I wanted.
I did not want drama.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I smack my hand on the bar. “You’re fucking right, Sam. This is going to be awesome.”
“You’re goddamn right it is!” He clinks his beer with mine and watches me with confusion as I stand. “What are we doing?”
“We’re leaving.”
“Leaving? Leaving to where?”
“We’re celebrating, bro. We have a new future to look forward to, and it’s time we get out of the same old scene. Let’s head down Pearl Street and see what kind of trouble we can get into.”
Sam laughs hard and claps me on the back. “I’m in!”
“Oh, I see a table that just opened up!” Lynsey squeals, rushing off with her Long Island Iced Tea and practically falling over the top of a stainless steel table before the couple currently occupying it have even grabbed their jackets to leave.
I cringe at the scene and look around to see how many people are looking. Not too many. Could be worse. But I appreciate Lynsey’s efforts because tables are tough to grab at West End Tavern. It’s a bar in Boulder with three levels of outdoor seating, and their rooftop patio is always packed in the summertime. It has a stunning view of the mountains, and it’s one of those places that’s always noisy, so you feel like you’re a part of something.
I head over with a sheepish look on my face and mouth, “Sorry,” to the couple who’s backing away slowly. Lynsey finally slides down off the tabletop and into a chair.
“Okay, so finish where you left off,” she says as I take a seat opposite her.
“Where did I leave off?” I ask, sipping on a glass of wine because beer won’t cut it after the week I’ve had.
“Well, Dryston is back…” she begins, repeating my earlier story.
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s pretty much all I know. I got a text from him a couple of days ago while I was at the supermarket that said in all caps, WHERE IS MY SHIT. And he put a period instead of a question mark…idiot.”
“Clearly he’s been back to the house then,” Lynsey says, brown eyes wide and worried.
I shrug. “I guess so. He said he’s been staying with his friend, Mitchell.”
She shakes her head, little wisps of her brown hair falling out of the messy bun on top of her head. “That’s eerie.”
“Super eerie,” I agree, grabbing my own hair and pulling it off to one side to cool my neck down. “Dryston wasn’t supposed to come back for another month. I thought I had time to break it to him that I moved all his stuff into a storage unit.” Translation: I thought I had time to tell Miles the truth about my roommate.
“So what did you say?” Lynsey asks, taking another drink of her Long Island.
“I told him where the pod was and that I could have it delivered wherever he intended on living because now that he was back in town, I was going to change the locks.”
Her eyes alight with excitement. “Oh my God, you didn’t!”
I nod. “I did. Fuck him. He comes sneaking back into town without even an announcement, thinking he can just stride into my house like he’s been paying rent all summer? That’s bullshit because he most certainly hasn’t been sending me checks. I’ll pay him the deposit we split on the townhouse if that’s what it takes. I’m not moving!”
“Good for you!” Lynsey exclaims, slapping the table in excitement. “You’re finally taking a stand.”
“Damn right, I am,” I reply with a smile and take a drink of my wine. “So talk to me about you. Where have you been the last few days? I’ve stopped by and you’re never home.”
Lynsey’s face flushes a crimson color at my sudden change of subject. Her eyes are practically twinkling in the swooped Edison bulbs overhead. “You’re going to be so proud.”
“Tell me.”
She sighs heavily. “Well, my thesis was going horribly, so I decided to go back to the hospital cafeteria to see if I could have a Tire Depot moment.”
My smile is enormous. “And did you?” I nearly squeal.
“Yes,” she squeals back and covers her face like the monkey emoji.
“Why are you acting embarrassed? That’s awesome!”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, gosh, I eat there every day now, and I feel like the cafeteria people think I’m there for some really tragic reason. They normally scream ‘next in line’ when it’s your turn to pay, but whenever they see me, they say ‘Come on up, sweetheart.’ It’s so weirdly obvious. I think people are starting to notice.”
I scoff, “Like who? Other patients’ families that are all temporary? They’ll be gone in a week.”