Chapter Four

Ruin

I've barely made it to my truck when Outlaw calls.

"Hey." I try to brighten my tone.

"Hey, man. You're on Carmen duty, I hear."

"Yeah. You owe me."

He laughs. "I do. Thanks for keeping an eye on her. I'd have been worried about her drinking tonight without someone semi-responsible with her."

I ignore the ‘semi' part because I know he's busting my balls. "No problem. How's the family?" I change the subject as quickly as I can.

"Good. Faith, or should I say Tilly, is getting closer to delivery so we're just crossing our fingers that everything goes as planned. Her nephew just joined the local little league, too. So, it's a whole new world for me." He married a woman a few months back and they have custody of her nephew and a baby on the way. I'm happy for him, but jealous as hell. I never thought I'd be the guy who wanted to settle down, but here the fuck I am, ready to be a family man. Who'd have thought that?

"Sounds busy." I draw in a deep breath as Peach rounds out to the truck. "I'll keep an eye on her for you tonight. Don't worry about that."

"Thanks. I tried buzzing her, but she didn't pick up. Let her know I called and that we'll do cake on Sunday. I'm assuming you've got your truck tonight if you're designated driving, right?"

"You got it. I'll give you a call in the morning and let you know how this turns out." Guilt is an understatement to what I'm feeling right now. I've done a lot of fucked up shit in my life, but fucking over your best friend is at the top of the list. I have no business going to a sex club with Peach.

None.

"Talk in the morning, man. Be safe out there."

"Later." I hang up the line as I hold the door open for Peach. She's so fucking gorgeous and the closer we get to even the thought of a bunch of assholes looking at her, touching her, thinking about her… makes me want to fucking rage.

"This new? You had an older truck before, didn't you?"

"Bounties have been good. I needed an upgrade. Feel free to change the station."

She leans forward and twists the nob, dialing to all the presets. "This is like… talk radio, talk radio, and more talk radio. Where's the music?" She glares toward me. "Don't tell me you don't listen to music anymore either. You used to be a rocker."

I laugh. "I still listen to music. I just also like podcasts. Everyone listens to podcasts."

"Really? I don't. I don't get the point."

"I get to learn things."

She twists her hair to the side. "Like what?"

"Like this one I listen to is about motorcycles. The guy talks about new gear and shit."

"Intriguing…" She grins and twists the knob slowly toward country music while glaring at me playfully. "I like classic country. The nineties stuff."

"You weren't born in the nineties, so what do you know about classic stuff?"

She shoves me playfully as I drive down the mountain toward the Springs. It's about an hour's drive from here to The Lookout and while normally, I take in the scenery and soak up the views, today the only thing I'm paying much attention to is my peach.

"You used to love nineties country too. Remember?" She smiles widely as she looks at me. All I want to do is hold her.

"No, I didn't."

She laughs. "Whatever! You love Garth Brooks."

"Do I?" I stroke my hand over my beard.

"You do. You used to sing that Shameless song all the time."

"Oh yeah." I grin. "I do like that one."

"And the low places song. You like that too."

"Is that Garth Brooks?"

"Yes!" She laughs. "Stop messing with me."

I like that she knows these pieces of me. I can't think of another person who does.

"You remember that cover band we saw down at Mullet's bar last year? The one that played that song. They were pretty solid."

"I forgot about that." She turns toward me, lifting her leg onto the seat as she moves. "Ya know, we've done a lot together. Maybe it's you and me that are besties. Outlaw thinks he's got you locked in, but I might steal you away, especially now that he's busy with his family stuff."

I glance toward her and smile. "Is that right?"

She nods. "Yeah, I mean think about it. We spent like all last summer at the lake together and you're the first call I make when I need a friend. Besides, who do you share all your secrets with? I know it's not Outlaw."

"If I have a secret, I keep it a secret," I laugh. "If I need to talk to someone about something, I've got your brother and Country."

"Oh, please. Does Country drag you to sex clubs on random summer nights? No, he does not. Therefore, not your bestie."

I grin. "That's fair. I can honestly say Country couldn't convince me to go to a sex club with him."

"Right, and besties tell each other secrets. So, spill ‘em."

"I'm a steel trap. Once the secret's in, it's gone. Besides, I don't think I have anything that is serious enough to be a secret."

Her eyes roll playfully. "Everyone has secrets."

"Well, when I was in prison, I—"

"If this is some kind of bar soap-shower thing… maybe I don't want to know." She grins.

"No," I laugh, "but… I did hear about that a lot. I, ugh, I wrote a book."

"You… wrote a book?"

"Yeah."

"About…"

"It's about this guy who's in love with a girl he can't have. He spends time with her and lusts after her from a distance for years, knowing nothing can ever come of it."

She stares toward me, swallowing hard. "Did you really write that?"

"I did."

"So, you wrote a romance?"

"Well," I grin, "I was pretty lonely. Two years is a long time to spend behind bars. Your turn now. Tell me a secret."

"Wait, are you going to publish it?"

"No. It was for me. Like I said, I was lonely, so I wrote."

She nods slowly as though she's processing through what I've said. Maybe it was too on the nose. I've laid it on pretty thick today for a guy who was moving on last night.

"My secrets are way less impressive. Besides, I think you know everything. All I can think about right now is tonight."

"What about it?"

She shrugs and leans in. "I've never done anything this crazy. I'm excited!"

"Did you decide if you were," I swallow hard, "participating?"

"No, not yet. You?"

I laugh. "Nope. No way. Not happening."

"Why?" Her tone is a near whisper.

"This isn't my thing. We're here for you."

"Right, but don't you want to… have fun too? I mean, we're here. You might as well—"

"Not happening, Peach. Just promise me you'll stay by me."

She nods and glances toward me. "Promise." I expect her to question me, but she doesn't.

I pull onto the main road in the Springs and turn past the post office. Cars rush out of parkways and lights glow as far as I can see. The whole thing is too much. Multi-lane traffic, stoplights, sidewalks packed with pedestrians, a police car whirring in the distance, and the scent of fast-food fryer vents, car exhaust, and wet concrete permeating the air.

"You sure you want to do this?"

Peach's eyes widen. "Yes! I love it here! To visit, I mean. I wouldn't want to stay." She glances toward a large café on the corner with two homeless people standing outside holding tin cans. "Can we pull over? I want to give them something."

Only my peach would stop on her way to the sex club to make sure the homeless were taken care of.

My peach. She's not my peach.

I repeat the words half a dozen times in my head, but I don't believe them. Something inside of me knows this girl is mine.

I check the rear mirror and pull to the side as she rolls down the passenger window and tucks two twenty-dollar bills in each of their cans.

"You're a good person," I say, squeezing her hand, "and you are definitely one of my best friends."

She gasps and tugs away from me. "I won't accept one of your best friends. Best or nothing."

I laugh. "Apparently you're a good person, but uncontrollably possessive."

"Not apparently. Wholeheartedly possessive." She smiles.

"Got it." I pull into the driveway of The Lookout and take in the scene. I've never been over here before, but it's clear to see that the place has made it without my attendance.

"ID please." A thick man stands in the booth just outside the parking lot. He reminds me of Country with a trucker hat and a thick southern drawl.

I hand him our licenses, he stamps our hands, and we pull in toward the large brick building that's been painted black. There are two floors with a hot pink neon sign flashing over the second.

Peach glances toward me. "Okay, I might be nervous now."

"Do you want to turn around? We can go find a bar, eat endless mozzarella sticks, and talk shit about Garth Brooks."

She laughs. "I think that's like sacrilegious or something. You can't talk shit about Garth Brooks south of Cheyenne. It's a thing."

"Sorry." I grin. "This place looks really busy tonight."

"Yeah. Is that bad?"

"Not sure. Could be good. Busy means it'll be easier to observe without being bothered."

"Right." She chews on her lip as she studies the people walking past.

I'm not sure what I expected, but this place is filled with folks of all ages and walks of life.

I park in the corner of the lot under a streetlamp and hop out, rounding to help Peach down from the truck before she can climb down herself. I was protective before, but suddenly that emotion is becoming overbearing. It's the kind of overbearing where I want to toss her over my shoulder and say fuck adventure and her birthday, but here I am being a good fucking sport… like a damn fool.