Over his headset, Kendall cursed. “Nah, I’m pinned down now,” she grumbled. “You know most regular jobs aren’t all bad though, right? I mean, the starting pay is pretty crap and you do not want to see my health insurance bills, and no matter how much turnover we have there’s always someone exploding their lunch in the microwave, but the steady income is nice.”
“Are you buying anniversary presents for your retirement fund now?”
“At least I have one!” A gentle barrage of pistol noises came through from Kendall’s side, followed by another curse.
As if on cue, a red flare burst from Wes’s fictional head, his avatar falling to the ground. The respawn screen reappeared. He deployed again, triggering his avatar to huskily shout“I’m always up for the hunt!”as an explosion echoed in the background. “I’m not against getting a job, okay, I just want to like what I do.”
“You, Wesley, want to be in love with what you do. You want it to give you fluttery heart feelings and raise your dick at night. Which is why you need a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. You have so many options! At this very moment, you could be out falling in love withliterallyanyone.”
“That’sliterallynot what bisexuality means and you know it,” Wes grumbled. “I thought you were grilling me about jobs, not partners.”
“It’s a two-for-one. I’ll start grilling you about finding a new best friend, too, if you don’t get your ass over to that last house.”
Wes glanced at the second, smaller monitor beside his primary TV, where Kendall’s screen was currently streaming. A video of her face took up its corner, her dark skin a little shiny and her short hair with its bleached tips sticking up at all angles from running her left hand through it every time she died. She would always complain that the habit fluffed up her rigorously straightened natural curls, but she never stopped doing it. Wes hadn’t seen the act in person since they’d both graduated twelve months ago and moved back to their respective hometowns, but after three and a half years as roommates, he had cataloged it at every possible angle, in almost every possible situation. “Right, fine, I’m coming. But you can’t claim I’m stealing your assist this time. This is practically charity work I’m doing here.”
“Just kill that damn vamp on the roof for me already.”
“Bet I can clear the whole house before you get here.”
Kendall grinned. “Five dollars says you can’t.”
“You’re stacking yourself against some terrible odds here, you know that.”
“I can spare the cash. Unlike some people, I have a job, therefore I receive money.”
“I hate you, Kendall,” Wes shouted and charged the vamp-laden house.
The game vampires had red eyes, blood blurred along their lips and a sickly pallor to their skin that Wes was pretty sure went beyond the typical lack-of-tan that haunted most vamps in real life. Not that he’d seen many outside the occasional news spotlight or viral social media post, though he was also pretty sure some of those vampires were just regular people looking for attention. In the game, they flailed once as he shot silver bullets through their skulls, their bodies collapsing into pools of unnaturally dark blood that remained after their corpses flickered out. Wes ran through his gun’s ammunition and switched to stakes for the last two vamps. His health dropped to five percent as the last one of them caught him with a bite to the arm, but he killed the vamp before it could drain anything more from him.
“Mission successful!” popped across the screen.
Wes hollered, letting the game save before tossing down his controller. He bounced from the couch to flip off the console. With the screens black, the house went dark, but he didn’t bother with the lights on as he crossed the living room to the kitchen. His phone reconnected him to his video call with Kendall after a momentary lag.
Wes smirked despite knowing he’d only be a flimsy shadow on his friend’s screen. “Five dollars?”
“Five dollars,” Kendall replied, “But only once you pick something to apply for. Or someone.”
“That wasn’t part of the wager.” Wes leaned his head against the side of the fridge, letting the light wash him in fluorescent tones. “It’s just… I’m not ready.”
“It’s been over a year, Wes.” For how softly Kendall said it, it still hurt like a punch to the gut.
Mostpeople didn’t take this long to grieve, Wes knew. But most people didn’t come home from college to find their mother had vanished the week prior. Most people didn’t have to lower her empty coffin into the ground alone while their mother’s homophobic extended family demanded to know why they hadn’t been invited and their father sent his regards in the form of a note card with their step-family’s names neatly printed in swirly cursive. Most people understood how and when and why their loved one had died. Wesley only knew where. And it was a place he couldn’t seem to get into.
Dwelling on that fact felt like breaking apart piece by agonizing piece, his soul crumbling to the size of bullets that he might shoot straight through the hearts of those responsible for his mom’s death. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t live through the process. So he tried to shove the emotion right back where it had come from.
“OJ goes with vodka, right?” he joked, staring into the fridge.
Kendall seemed to take that as a bad sign. “I’m sorry, dude, I’m pushing and I shouldn’t be. I just worry about you.” She sighed, running her hand through her hair. “You know the spare room at Leoni’s and my place is always open if you need it.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got the house.” It was only luck that his mother had just transferred the property into his name before her disappearance. Luck, or the knowledge that something terrible could happen to her at the fucking asshole pharmaceutical company that was Vitalis-Barron. “I’m good here.” He took a long guzzle of orange juice straight from the carton and slammed the door behind him. The magnets rattled. He grimaced. “You owe me five dollars.”
“Sending now.”
Wes made his way upstairs. The dark of the house was nothing compared to the fifteen years of knowledge he had of the place, fifteen years of just him and his mom, both of them loud enough to make the small home seem full. It never felt that way anymore. But it was paid off, and it was his, and if somehow his mother hadn’t died the way he theorized, then this was where she’d come back to.
Not that she would come back. She was dead; Wes knew that. But he still had to see the evidence for himself and get the proof of it in his own hands. And use that proof to burn the people responsible to the ground.
His phone beeped and he clicked the notification. Kendall’s image turned to a little side icon as the money transfer app appeared. At the top sat the five dollars from her, followed by the back and forth of a dozen other wagers from that week alone. He swiped away, scrolling mindlessly through his other open apps, and ended up in his emails, staring at his only bolded message. Its subject lineJob Offer Follow-upwith the preview ofWesley Smith, we look forward to seeing you again…
