4. Brock

Chapter four

Brock

I rode my hog around the block and behind the row of stores, and up to my back door. The short drive was spent wondering what the hell I was doing. Should I get involved with this guy? What's wrong with me? Should I call the police anyway? That was probably the best thing to do.

Instead, I parked and went into the store. Eddy was no longer sitting in my office, so I searched the shop. I really needed a better way to organize my shelves. But I didn't find him hiding in the book-labyrinth. I peeked around to the front of the shop and the door was open. Eddy was gone. And I immediately went into worry mode.

Was he taken or did he leave on his own?

Why would he trust me to help him anyway? I probably looked like an asshole. Who the fuck was I to jump in and save him? Sweep him off his feet? What the fuck even? I didn't know him, and he didn't know me. He implied his brother was gay and married to a man, but that didn't mean he was gay too. And why should that matter? He stumbled into my store to hide, not because he liked me or was looking for love. No, he was scared. But he was cute and vulnerable, and I wanted to help.

What the fuck was wrong with me? And, more importantly, what the hell should I do?

A few people came into the store, mostly to grab coffee and sticky buns. Some picked up magazines. I asked them if they saw anyone matching Eddy's description, but none had, which was something considering this was a small town where everyone knew everyone, and strangers were noted. He must have got off the streets quickly if he hadn't been seen. And where could he have gone? He had to be staying somewhere. And the closest place I could think of was the rooms over Pints 'n Pool.

I called the owner, Nate, to see if I could get some intel from him.

"Pints ‘n Pool," he answered.

"Nate, it's Brock over at Books and Beans."

"Hey, yeah. How's it going?"

"Oh, well, good mostly, but I had a, well, I don't know what to call him, a customer, I guess, but he didn't buy anything—"

"You're rambling, dude."

"Sorry." I was entirely too nervous for what this situation called for. And too invested. "So, this guy, Eddy, came into my store and needed help, but then he took off."

"So?"

"So, I want to see if, uh, like, check if he's staying there."

"Oh, gotcha. Well, sorry, but I can't give out any information on guests who are or are not staying here. It's a problem of confidentiality. You understand."

"Can you tell me if he's not staying there?"

"Uh, no."

"That's not helpful, dude."

"I know. Sorry. Maybe come get a drink, hang out, and see who comes and goes. That's all I got."

"Not a bad idea. I might do that after the store closes."

"Sure. See ya." Nate was a good guy. I understood his reluctance to talk about any potential guests he had. But it sure as hell didn't help me any.

I hung up. And got back to work. Because I was getting nowhere and driving myself nuts. But at the end of the day, I was discouraged. If he really wanted my help, he would have come back. Or not left in the first place. I gave up and headed home. It had been a slow-ass day anyway. And fuck if I knew what else to do. I could go hang out at Pints like Nate suggested, but I felt like maybe this was none of my business. I'd already gotten too involved.

Of course, Eddy could have been killed already. Or kidnapped. Or something. I hoped not, but there wasn't anything else I could do. If I called the police, what the hell would I even tell them?

Fuck it. I went home.