Bomb: A Day in the Life of Spencer Shrike
Page 19
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Ford laughs under his breath. “It’s Drake.”
I turn in my seat so I can see and then slide the window down about an inch. “Can I help you?” I ask, peering out at him.
He’s not as tall as me when I’m standing, so when I’m sitting in a big-ass truck, he looks minuscule. He’s such a skinny little f**k.
He scowls at me, squinting his eyes as he tries to make out if it’s really me behind the tinted glass window. “Shrike? I should’ve known. You’re out here like a loser, spying on me? What the hell?”
“I’m sorry,” I say politely. “Do I know you?” Ford chuckles off to my right. “Do we know this rat, Ford?” I lower the window another half an inch. “Oh, wait,” I say sarcastically. “Yeah, we know this ass**le. He’s the poser who moved into my town, pretending to be me. You’re not even worth my time, Fonzie.” I catch the sound of the little bot being maneuvered from the tablet.
Drake squints his eyes and gives those thick black frames a push up his nose as he considers this. “Then would you care to explain why you’re sitting outside my shop in the middle of the night?”
“We’re smoking a doobie, Drake. And you’re killing my f**king buzz, so shoo, little man. Just shoo.”
Ford laughs again.
Drake sniffs the air, trying to smell me out. “You’re not smoking in there.”
“It’s that new odorless blend out of Boulder, you idiot. Now scram.”
Ford bursts out laughing, “Scram,” he mutters. “What are you, a character in Scooby-Doo?”
I look over at him and laugh. “Yeah, scram. That’s such a great word, isn’t it? So underused.” I turn back and Drake is still there. “Drake, if you have an opinion on the merits of the word ‘scram’, let’s hear it. Otherwise, get the f**k out of here.”
He does that little two-finger to the eyeballs gesture, pointing at me, then his peepers, and I laugh like a girl.
“I’m watching you, Shrike. I know you’re up to something and if I catch you around my shop, I’ll take care of business.”
I roll the window back up as Drake walks away. “You get it parked, dude?”
“We’re set,” Ford says. “He really is annoying. I’m pretty sure he’s not your guy though, Spencer. He’s so stupid. How the hell did he get past your security outside the showroom, let alone move seven bikes through the back f**king door? It makes no sense. This guy is backed, that’s for sure. But he’s not the one who stole your shit.”
“Maybe not. But he’s part of it, whether he knows that or not. Whoever is behind Drake Cikes is my guy. And I’m not sure who that might be, but I’m gonna figure it out.”
I pull the truck forward, do the double honk to Drake—who is still standing in the alleyway entrance to his shop—and turn right at the next street to go back towards town.
Ford lets out a huff as he thinks in silence for a few seconds. “I might’ve been wrong earlier. This might be something after all. And I’m with you on figuring it out. Maybe it’s not connected to the trials coming up. Maybe Drake is just some guy who fell into some money and decided to give you a run for yours. And maybe those missing bikes are just bad luck on your part. Some past employee getting revenge or some shit like that.”
I look over at him as I wait for the light at Mountain and College.
“But somehow I doubt it. I think whoever is backing Drake is absolutely the one we should be looking at about the missing bikes. But I also think that somehow, some way, all of this is tied to Rook.”
“Rook?”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “They might be sending messages. And your bikes might’ve just been the initial greeting.”
We sit in silence as I make my way back down Mountain to Ford’s house. I pull over at the corner of Frey, and he opens the truck door. “Just keep an eye out, Spencer. And for f**k’s sake, don’t do anything stupid without calling Ronin and me first.”
I laugh. “Yeah, if we do something stupid, we should definitely do it together.”
“That’s what teams are for, brother.”
“Later, dude. Tell your little dudettes I said hey.”
He flashes me a two-finger salute and slams the door closed. I watch him walk up to the house and when he gets to the porch, the light flicks on. Ashleigh appears and for a minute I expect them to fight. I really did figure he had to sneak out to do this shit tonight. But she leans up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on his cheek. He smiles broadly, and then ushers her back inside and the porch light goes dark.
I sigh.
How ironic is it that Ford has a f**king family before the rest of us? And even Ronin has Rook. At least he has her.
Me? I have no one.
Chapter Nine
I park the truck over by the shop and walk back down to Ronnie’s alley once again. I know this is probably the wrong thing to do, but I can’t help myself. When I reach the parking area below her apartment, I lean against the wall of the building next door and I dial her number.
She’s awake, I know that for sure, even though it’s almost one AM and all the lights are off save for the flickering bluish tint that comes from a TV. It rings. One… if she doesn’t pick up I’ll leave. Two… if she doesn’t pick up, I’ll go knock on the door. Three… her shadow walks across in front of the apartment window.
I turn in my seat so I can see and then slide the window down about an inch. “Can I help you?” I ask, peering out at him.
He’s not as tall as me when I’m standing, so when I’m sitting in a big-ass truck, he looks minuscule. He’s such a skinny little f**k.
He scowls at me, squinting his eyes as he tries to make out if it’s really me behind the tinted glass window. “Shrike? I should’ve known. You’re out here like a loser, spying on me? What the hell?”
“I’m sorry,” I say politely. “Do I know you?” Ford chuckles off to my right. “Do we know this rat, Ford?” I lower the window another half an inch. “Oh, wait,” I say sarcastically. “Yeah, we know this ass**le. He’s the poser who moved into my town, pretending to be me. You’re not even worth my time, Fonzie.” I catch the sound of the little bot being maneuvered from the tablet.
Drake squints his eyes and gives those thick black frames a push up his nose as he considers this. “Then would you care to explain why you’re sitting outside my shop in the middle of the night?”
“We’re smoking a doobie, Drake. And you’re killing my f**king buzz, so shoo, little man. Just shoo.”
Ford laughs again.
Drake sniffs the air, trying to smell me out. “You’re not smoking in there.”
“It’s that new odorless blend out of Boulder, you idiot. Now scram.”
Ford bursts out laughing, “Scram,” he mutters. “What are you, a character in Scooby-Doo?”
I look over at him and laugh. “Yeah, scram. That’s such a great word, isn’t it? So underused.” I turn back and Drake is still there. “Drake, if you have an opinion on the merits of the word ‘scram’, let’s hear it. Otherwise, get the f**k out of here.”
He does that little two-finger to the eyeballs gesture, pointing at me, then his peepers, and I laugh like a girl.
“I’m watching you, Shrike. I know you’re up to something and if I catch you around my shop, I’ll take care of business.”
I roll the window back up as Drake walks away. “You get it parked, dude?”
“We’re set,” Ford says. “He really is annoying. I’m pretty sure he’s not your guy though, Spencer. He’s so stupid. How the hell did he get past your security outside the showroom, let alone move seven bikes through the back f**king door? It makes no sense. This guy is backed, that’s for sure. But he’s not the one who stole your shit.”
“Maybe not. But he’s part of it, whether he knows that or not. Whoever is behind Drake Cikes is my guy. And I’m not sure who that might be, but I’m gonna figure it out.”
I pull the truck forward, do the double honk to Drake—who is still standing in the alleyway entrance to his shop—and turn right at the next street to go back towards town.
Ford lets out a huff as he thinks in silence for a few seconds. “I might’ve been wrong earlier. This might be something after all. And I’m with you on figuring it out. Maybe it’s not connected to the trials coming up. Maybe Drake is just some guy who fell into some money and decided to give you a run for yours. And maybe those missing bikes are just bad luck on your part. Some past employee getting revenge or some shit like that.”
I look over at him as I wait for the light at Mountain and College.
“But somehow I doubt it. I think whoever is backing Drake is absolutely the one we should be looking at about the missing bikes. But I also think that somehow, some way, all of this is tied to Rook.”
“Rook?”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “They might be sending messages. And your bikes might’ve just been the initial greeting.”
We sit in silence as I make my way back down Mountain to Ford’s house. I pull over at the corner of Frey, and he opens the truck door. “Just keep an eye out, Spencer. And for f**k’s sake, don’t do anything stupid without calling Ronin and me first.”
I laugh. “Yeah, if we do something stupid, we should definitely do it together.”
“That’s what teams are for, brother.”
“Later, dude. Tell your little dudettes I said hey.”
He flashes me a two-finger salute and slams the door closed. I watch him walk up to the house and when he gets to the porch, the light flicks on. Ashleigh appears and for a minute I expect them to fight. I really did figure he had to sneak out to do this shit tonight. But she leans up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on his cheek. He smiles broadly, and then ushers her back inside and the porch light goes dark.
I sigh.
How ironic is it that Ford has a f**king family before the rest of us? And even Ronin has Rook. At least he has her.
Me? I have no one.
Chapter Nine
I park the truck over by the shop and walk back down to Ronnie’s alley once again. I know this is probably the wrong thing to do, but I can’t help myself. When I reach the parking area below her apartment, I lean against the wall of the building next door and I dial her number.
She’s awake, I know that for sure, even though it’s almost one AM and all the lights are off save for the flickering bluish tint that comes from a TV. It rings. One… if she doesn’t pick up I’ll leave. Two… if she doesn’t pick up, I’ll go knock on the door. Three… her shadow walks across in front of the apartment window.
