Page 39 of Savior

“How’d you like your first meeting?” he asked before pulling out of the parking lot. The old truck seemed to vibrate against the rough patches of road but was still a hell of a lot smoother than I’d imagined it’d be.

“How old is this truck?”

Angel grinned widely like I’d just asked to see pictures of his kids. “1967 Chevrolet C-10. You like it?”

I nodded. “Suspension seems to be in good shape. Usually, these older vehicles shake enough to rattle your fillings out.”

He looked back toward the windshield and made a left, merging onto the interstate. “Never imagined I’d be happy to ride in a cage, but Wolverine ran across this gem in a salvage yard about thirty years ago. I’ve always liked workin’ with my hands, so I put in the work and fixed her up. It was a bitch trackin’ down parts to restore her, but worth every second.”

I nodded again and went back to staring out the passenger window, wondering if there was anything in life I’d ever been good at doing besides fucking things up.

“What about you?” the old man asked. “What do you like doin’?”

“That’s what I was just thinking about. I don’t think there’s a damn thing. I was a mediocre detective, and I only ever got that job because of Grey. I don’t know, Angel. Maybe some of us are just good for nothing.”

He jerked his chin. “That’s a load of horse shit, and you know it, son. What’d you want to be as a kid? What were your dreams?”

When I grow up, I’m gonna be one of the good guys…

My laugh was hollow. “I wanted to be a hero like Brisco County, Jr. or Scandal Jackson, Jr. fromCobra. Seeing as to how I was a junior too, thought it was a sign from the universe or something. I wanted to be the one to save the world. Wasn’t until I got a little older that I realized the world didn’t want to be saved.”

“So, why ain’t you done it yet?”

I turned toward him with a frown. “Turn up your hearing aid, old man. I said the world doesn’t want to be saved, and the good guys are all gone.”

“Sound like your daddy now.” He put the truck in park in front of a late-night barbershop before looking over at me. “C’mon, let’s make this quick.”

I studied the red, white, and blue striped awning. “This doesn’t look like much of a breakfast joint to me, Angel.”

“We’ll get to breakfast in a minute, but first, we gotta do somethin’ about your hair. And that shit on your face you’re callin’ a beard? You look like a goddamn hobo.”

I ran my fingers over my beard, wondering if I’d missed getting the food out of it again. Maybe it had become more of a catchall lately, but I’d made it out of the house with clean clothes on, so I was calling it a win.

The bell over the door jingled as Angel led me inside and two men who had to be as old as God stood up and greeted him by name.

“This one here’s lookin’ a little ragged. Thought he could do with a straight shave and a little somethin’ to clean up the mop on his head he’s callin’ hair.”

I opened my mouth to argue, only to catch sight of my reflection in the mirror above the counter as I was led back to a chair by the shorter of the two barbers. Angel was right. I might’ve sobered up, but I still looked like a junkie in need of a fix.

“Name’s George,” the old man said gruffly by way of introduction. “Been doing Charlie’s hair for years. You’re by far the worst he’s brought in, though.”

“Thanks?” I cocked my head to the side until Angel came into view. “The worst you’ve brought in? Is this a thing for you?”

He shrugged. “Helped a few people out over the years when I could. Got ‘em back on their feet.”

“Mostly vagrants,” George added while running the straight razor up and down the strop hanging on the wall. “Acts of atonement, isn’t that right, Joseph?”

The other barber nodded solemnly from the front counter.

“Atonement for what?” I asked.

Angel sank down into one of the empty chairs across from mine. “Ain’t done a lot right in this life, kid. I like to think I’m makin’ up for it now so that one day—”

“You end up with Mary again,” I finished, and he nodded. It made sense, and as much as I wanted Lauren to take me back, we both knew she deserved better.

Living without her was my punishment for Patrick and all the ways I’d managed to fuck up my life since birth. Maybe if I spent the rest of my life atoning for my sins, I’d get a second chance with her in the next life.

“Earlier, you told me I sounded like my dad,” I started as George leaned my chair back. “Were you referring to Grey or… Comedian?”

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