Page 37 of Indigo Sky

"I lost my fucking job," I spat angrily, shaking my head. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

He shrugged. "There are other shops. Dad would write you a letter of recommendation, I’m sure."

"Your dad isn't gonna do shit for me," I muttered, realizing too late what a stupid idea it was to agree to be paid off the books. "Technically, I was never an employee here."

Years of my life, gone, in the blink of an eye. Just because one asshole had gotten the wrong idea in his head and threatened to call the cops on my ex-boss.

And all because another asshole had decided to do something really, really fucking stupid.

***

I walked through the apartment door with the grace of Bill, letting the doorknob bounce off the wall and slam shut behind me. I barreled across the living room and to Nate's bedroom, and without a single fuck left to give, I didn't bother to knock before throwing the door open.

Nate was still in bed. Naked, one leg hanging off the bed as he snored.

I stood at the side closest to his head and shouted, "Where the fuck were you last night?!"

He groaned and lifted his head an inch off the pillow to open his bleary eyes and look at me. "Go away," he muttered, then rolled over.

"Hey! Asshole!" I shoved violently at his shoulder. "I asked you a fucking question, Nate! Answer me!"

"Jesus Christ." He sat up, hanging his head and grinding the heel of his palm against his eye. "What do you want?"

"What the hell did you do last night?" I demanded, no longer yelling. No longer having it in me.

He sucked in a deep breath, dropped his hand to his naked lap, and looked up at me. His lips pulled into a sheepish smile as he shrugged. "I dunno. Smoked some weed. Had a couple of drinks. Took a walk. You know, usual crap."

"Bullshit." I took a step closer, forcing him to tip his head back to look up at me. "Did you steal that fucking guy's wallet?"

"Which guy?"

"Which guy?!"

He hadn’t denied it.

I grabbed at my hair, looking off toward his window and no longer at him. Holy fuck. "Seriously? That's what you ask me? Which guy? Oh my God, Nate …"

He wagged his finger up at me. "Wait a second. Are you talking about that fat motherfucker at the shop?"

"Yeah. That's the one," I answered, too tired now to fight as I turned and slumped down beside him on the bed.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah … yeah, I stole his fuckin' wallet. Piece of shit. Talking all that trash about me. I wasn't gonna let him get away with that. You know me."

"Yeah," I muttered, my face heating with anger. "I know you."

"Scared the shit out of him too," he said with a laugh. Proud and triumphant. "Him and his fat-ass wife. They were sleeping when I broke through their window, waving a gun in their faces."

My lungs deflated with a defeated sigh as I turned to glare at him. "A gun?" So, the angry old guy hadn't been exaggerating. "Where the fuck did you get a gun from?"

Nate snorted out a laugh and reached for his nightstand drawer. My heart hammered as he pulled it open and stuck his hand inside. Then, he pulled out a gun, matte black in color. I couldn’t breathe as he held it up, turning it over in his hand.

"It's an airsoft gun," he said, grinning like a fool. "Fuckin' guy thought it was real. Can you believe that shit? Oh my God …it was amazing. I mean, he kinda scared the shit out of me when he put it together that I worked at Roy's—"

"I lost my job," I interrupted in a dry, flat tone, tired of listening to him laugh and make light of a serious fucking situation.

He’d broken into a dude's house. He threatened him with a gun—I didn't give a fuck that it was fake. He lied to me. He’d cost me my fucking job and livelihood.

Nate's mouth fell open as he turned to stare at me. "What?"

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