Page 43 of Ride With Me

What am I going to do for a job?

I was planning to be a barista and save everything I earned—yes, I know I’m very privileged and that my parents have given me everything except, you know, freedom—to eventually have enough for a down payment on a rental. I’d get a roommate and make some friends.

Well, the plan hasn’t changed, except that finding somewhere to live is going to be a problem now since I’m heading toward one of the most expensive cities in the world and only have three-hundred dollars on me—I packed all the money I could find around the house in my hurry to get the hell out of there.

Suddenly, a car crosses two lanes at once with another big black SUV behind it and they park on the shoulder of the highway about a hundred feet in front of me. I don’t know what inside me decides that of course they stopped for me, but I start to jog toward them in any case.

A guy steps out of the first car, a white SUV, and when I’m fifty feet away I recognize him so I quicken my steps.

Hawk Storm grew up in the house right next to my parents’. He and his brother were always great friends to me, and the day they stopped coming over to Carmel and moved to LA to start their careers, we lost touch. I’ve seen them around a dozen times since, less since their mother passed, but it’s always a friendly enough interaction. I know that if I can explain the situation to Hawk, he’ll help me. And he can get me to LA. That’s all I need right now.

“Hawk?” I ask, just to make sure, when I’m only a few feet away. A big guy walks up next to him. He looks like a bull. Damn.

Then another man gets out of the black SUV. He looks like a bodyguard, is dressed like a bodyguard, acts like a bodyguard, so he probably is one.

“Hey, Ollie. What the hell are you doing?” Hawk asks, gruffer than I’ve ever heard him. He grabs my shoulders and looks me up and down like he’s looking for injuries.

“I’m fine,” I snap, unable to help it. He steps back, eyes wide, clearly surprised. That’s to be expected, I guess, since I don’t think I’ve ever snapped at anyone before today. “I’m twenty-seven years old for fuck’s sake! I can take care of myself. I know how. I’m not reckless with my health.”

“Uhhh.” He clearly has no idea what to say to my rant, and I don’t blame him. He turns and looks at both men behind him. Both are looking anywhere but at us. Then he turns back to me and sets his jaw, ready tohandleme. “I didn’t say you don’t know how to take care of yourself, Ollie. I just asked why you’re on the side of the highway?” He squeaks out the question and would disarm me completely any other day, but today, I’ve had enough.

“Because I’m fucking leaving!” I scream. I’m very aware of how hysterical I’m acting, but I can’t seem to stop. “And my parents didn’t want me to, so they didn’t even let me take my bike. Which is theirs, because I can’t pay for my own. Because I never went to college, never got a job. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old loser who has nothing of his own and I’m sick of it!”

“Okay.” Hawk raises both palms in surrender. “Okay, I get the picture. Butwhereare you going?”

“Anywhere.” I tilt my chin up defiantly.

“You wanna come to LA with us? You can stay at my place as long as you need. I’ll help you find a job.”

I’m speechless for a long moment. “Really?” I ask excitedly, when I can speak again.

“Yeah, man. You gotta call your parents and tell them you’re safe though,” he says, frowning.

“No problem. I’ll text them. I don’t want to call them.” I agree quickly.

“That’s fine. Come on,” he says, and the bodyguard grumbles something about strangers getting into cars, but Hawk doesn’t pay him any mind, so I don’t either. Instead, I let him lead me to the back passenger door and climb in when he opens it for me.

The bull of a man gets in too and starts the car without saying a word, and it’s not until we’re back in the left middle lane of the highway that he speaks.

“Uh, hi. I’m Derek.”

“Oh yeah,” Hawk says before I can answer. “Ollie, this is Derek Johnson, my boyfriend and best friend. I got two for one.” He turns in his seat and winks cheekily at me, making me relax even further now that I have a plan of action that goes beyondwalk. “Dee, this is Oliver Lloyd. He’s lived all his life in the house next to Mom’s.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek.” I make a pointed effort to speak at a normal volume and speed despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins becauseoh my God, this is really happening.

“Same to you. So, uh, what kind of work do you want to do?” Derek asks me.

I let out a huge, put-out sigh from the back and see how Hawk bites his lip. Probably to keep himself from laughing at me. I am kind of a joke, I know, but they’re offering help, and Hawk’s bull of a boyfriend asked, so I answer with all I know. “I don’t know. I know a little bit about a lot of things, you know? I like learning. I always wanted to go to college, but there was no way I could because I had a bad year in my senior year of high school.”

“What do you mean, bad?” Hawk asks, sounding worried.

I answer only after another big sigh, it’s always the fucking worry with people. “The damn hormones were fucking up my brain even more and I had seizures every other day. Right, Derek wouldn’t know. I have epilepsy. A mild one if you compare it to the worst cases. But flashing lights, certain films and stuff can make me have a seizure and it’snotpretty at all. So it got really bad when I was eighteen and going through the most delayed puberty to ever delay, and my parents kinda went crazy. I mean, I had a car accident because of a seizure, and was in the hospital on and off ’till I was twenty. So, yeah, I get it. But I’m so much better now, and I know when one is coming and can prepare so I don’t fall on my face. It’s been seven years, and I just wanna move on with my life.Makea life, you know?”

“Hmm.” Derek hums, and I don’t know how to interpret that. He’s kind of a stone-faced dude. “I bet it’s been hard. Are you always this impulsive?”

Seriously taken aback by his harsh and straightforward question, I resist raising a palm to my chest. “No, I’m not. I?—”

“Are you organized?” Derek interrupts before I can go off on another tangent.

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