Page 19 of Kash
“Five grand’s nice,” the other guy says. “But I ain’t tangling with no cop-killer. Let the police handle it.”
I miss my next trick, my board skidding out from under me.
“Crap,” I mutter, picking it up, my heart pounding.
Five grand’s loud, and Cresthaven’s full of people who’d sell their own kids for less. I need to warn Kash that people are talking like this, but I can’t just skate up to his cabin in broad daylight. Too risky. I glance at the guys again—they’re not looking my way, but the paranoia’s creeping in, making my skin itch.
I head toward the pier, weaving through the morning crowd—fishermen, a few early joggers, the usual small-town faces.
My board’s my cover, letting me move fast without drawing attention.
I’m supposed to watch for cops, strangers, anything off, like Kash said.
But it’s more than that now. After last night—the ride, his mouth, the way he called meboy—I’m not just helping him. I’m invested. Maybe too invested.
Kash has got secrets, and I want to know them, not because of the reward but because of him. Because ofus.
Back at my uncle’s place, I slip in quietly, avoiding the living room where he’s probably passed out in a haze of vodka and a life of regrets and stupid decisions.
My room’s a mess—skateboards, hoodies, empty energy drink cans—but it’s mine.
I grab my phone, checking for messages. I gave Kash my number before I left, but he hasn’t been in touch. Not that I expected anything. He’s paranoid about his burner phone, probably worried the cops are tracking it.
I want to text him, tell him about the diner guys. But I’ll wait until I see him later. The last thing he needs is non-urgent messages that could be used against him if I get caught out or searched by the cops.
I spend the day skating, hitting my usual spots—the pier, the skatepark, the back alleys behind the diner.
Everywhere I go, I’m watching, listening.
A cop car rolls by around noon, slow and deliberate, like they’re looking for something.
Orsomeone.
My pulse spikes, but I keep my head down, pulling a lazy ollie to blend in. They don’t stop, but it’s another reminder: Kash’s time is running out. And if I’m with him, so is mine…
By dusk, I’m back at the skatepark, the sky turning that bruised purple I love. I’m grinding a rail when I hear it again—another police radio, faint but close, coming from the direction of the main street. I freeze, my board clattering to the ground.
The static’s sharp, a voice cutting through: “Unit Two, check the bluff again. Got a report of suspicious activity.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
Suspicious activity? That’s Kash’s cabin.
Someone’s talking, and it’s not just gossip anymore.
I grab my board and skate toward the bluff, sticking to the back trails I know the cops don’t patrol. The air’s cool, the ocean’s roar a constant hum in my ears.
My mind is racing. Kash is in real danger, and I’m the only one who can warn him.
I’m not just his lookout… I’m his lifeline.
The cabin comes into view, dark and quiet, the Harley still hidden. I prop my board against a tree and creep closer, my sneakers silent on the gravel.
The blinds are tight as always, but I know he’s in there. I tap on the door, soft but urgent, and wait.
Come on, open up.
I know you’re in there, Daddy…
