Page 9 of Waves of Fury

Bile creeps up my throat, but I swallow it down. My parents connected every raindrop to the moon’s imminent demise. Once, during a particularly stormy season, they made me and Jesse stay in the bathtub wearing helmets. They even kept us buried under couch cushions. It was hot and uncomfortable. If we even mentioned leaving the bathroom, we got a whipping.

I can’t remember where Aaron was during that time. Probably hiding out at a girlfriend’s house as much as possible to escape our parents’ overprotective hold.

“Tyler,” the barista says, holding up an iced coffee.

I snatch the coffee and then make my way back outside where my bike is propped against a parking meter. My next delivery is in the same building as Tabby’s daycare. Hopefully, the quick detour to grab her coffee won’t count too much against me and my tip. It’s all downhill from here—literally—and I’ll make up time on the ride down to her building.

Wind lashes almost painfully at my face as I stow her coffee in the food satchel I keep attached to the front of my bike. The sandwich I’d picked up from Evan’s Sub Shop is still hot in its wrapper, neatly wrapped up at the bottom.

Hopping onto my bike, I set off down the sidewalk, happy for the path being clearer than usual. The impending storm and higher than usual winds have people hidden away in their buildings, making my job a heck of a lot easier.

The wind pushes against my front, making me almost lose my ball cap. I flip it around and keep pedaling, thankful for the downhill route. A raindrop lands on the tip of my nose. Another splashes on my forearm.

Great.

It’s about to pour.

I’m nearing the intersection before the building of my destination when a car screeches in front of me despite my signal that it’s safe to cross. It’s then I notice the red blinking stoplight. Cars start honking at each other, everyone confused and agitated as to who gets to go next. I wait for them to hesitate and then zoom across the road.

The rain steadily drops, soaking through my black T-shirt and making me wish I’d thought to wear a windbreaker. I manage to find an awning that’s whipping furiously but still provides protection from the rain and park my bike there. Since this may take a while, I chain my bike to a handrail in front of the building before quickly removing the satchel from its perch on the front of my bike. Careful so as not to spill the coffee, I tuck the bag under my arm and trot inside.

The daycare Tabby works at is high-end and looks expensive. There aren’t any snot-nosed kids here. Most of the kids are as polished and put together as the parents standing around, ready to fetch them.

Wait.

It’s not close to five.

“…Leon says we need to head east to stay with his parents,” a pretty brunette woman says to a very pregnant blonde. “But Nebraska? Really? I can’t stay with my in-laws more than a few days during the holidays. He’s talking about packing up and moving. I’ll kill Ramona if she tries to make the boys eat burgers again.”

The pregnant woman frowns in sympathy. “She doesn’t know you’re off meat?”

“Oh, she knows,” the brunette huffs, “but she thinks it’s a phase. And don’t even get me started on the redneck militias building a presence where they live.”

“Why would you need to move there?” I ask, unable to keep from interrupting.

Both women turn toward me and eye me with suspicion. The brunette sneers at me before completely ignoring my question, turning her back to me. I want to ask more about the militias and the potential move, but it’s clear by their condescending glares it’s an AB conversation and they want me to C my way out.

“Maybe Leon’s not far off base to get us out of this town. It’s falling apart. Nosy people everywhere.” She eyes me over her shoulder, hugging her purse closer to her body. “I’m sorry, but do you have children here?”

“Deliveryman,” I grumble. “Sorry. Just thought you were discussing the weather.”

The woman sneers at me before not-so-quietly saying to her friend, “When the city drove the homeless people out once and for all, I thought we’d made a turn for the better. It seems there are some just a step above that who should have gone with them.”

“But then who would bring us our Starbies?” the other woman says with a giggle, eyeing my bag with disdain.

I step out of line since it’s taking forever and I’m not one who takes well to being talked down to, peeking my head in the door to search for Tabby. Her crimson hair is pulled into a messy bun and she has a wailing toddler on one hip and is steadily texting with her long claws in the other hand.

“Tabs,” I bark out over the chaos of crying children and bitchy moms all around me.

She looks up and grimaces upon seeing me. Good seeing you too. With pursed lips, she sets the crying kid down and strides over to me.

“What?” she snaps. “Did my boyfriend send you with a peace offering for ignoring me?”

“He’s working,” I bite out, unable to keep from feeling defensive over my brother.

Her eyes roll and her ridiculously long lashes flutter at the motion. “Well?”

I set my satchel down and unzip it, thankful to see the coffee is still safely stowed in the cupholder. Pulling it out, I offer it to her, waiting for some sort of show of gratitude.

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