Page 27 of Screwed

“No problem,” he says and I look up.

He’s smiling at me, a kind of lopsided grin that I get the feeling he thinks is charming, but that’s not what catches my eye. It’s how much he looks like Arlo.

He looks like a darker version of the man that I just left in bed and I know instantly that he’s related to Arlo in some way. We didn’t really talk about family last night but I would guess that he’s either his brother or cousin.

“Are you leaving already?” He asks and something about the way that he says it, the way that he leans in closer to me, has my hairs standing on end.

His eyes are red, bloodshot, and I can’t tell if he’s just tired or maybe still drunk from last night. I can smell the whiskey on his breath so I’m guessing it’s a combination of the two.

Does Arlo know that his brother or cousin was out all night drinking?

“Uh, yep. I need to be getting to work,” I say as I sidestep him.

“That’s too bad,” he says and I notice that he’s kind of swaying on his feet.

I want to reach out and steady him but there’s something about him that has my protective instincts screaming at me to get out of here. I try to figure out what it is about him that I don’t trust as I make my way over to the front door. I keep my eyes on the guy and he watches me right back.

There’s something about the hazy look of his eyes that strikes me as odd. It takes me a second to realize that he’s on something. His eyes are glassy and he’s swaying slightly on his feet. I wonder if Arlo knows that he’s doing drugs. I don’t know enough to even guess at what the guy might be on, but I know that this is more than just alcohol and exhaustion.

Should I wake Arlo and tell him?

No, I’m sure that he will be up soon and he’ll notice. He probably already knows and just doesn’t like to talk about it.

“Um, see you,” I say warily before I open the front door and head down the stairs.

“Bye,” he says, his voice coming out slow and drawn out.

All of the happy, fuzzy feelings that I had from waking up next to a naked Arlo have vanished after my encounter with whoever that was. Now I’m too worried about what’s going on there to focus on the way that Arlo made love to me last night.

My car is parked close to the back door of the Laundry Mat and I fish the keys out of my purse and climb behind the wheel. I peek back up to the building and see a dark shadow in the window there. They’re partly behind the curtains so I can’t make out if it’s Arlo or his roommate but deep in my gut, I know that it’s not Arlo.

I shift into reverse and make the short drive back to my little cabin. I need to shower and get changed before I can head into the store and I try to hurry through my usual routine.

By the time that I climb out of the shower, I’m already over an hour late for opening. I call the number that Officer Miles gave me while I make myself some oatmeal for breakfast. He doesn’t answer so I leave a message asking him to call me back.

I call the security company on my drive into town and they promise to send someone out tomorrow to go over some upgrades for my system.

By the time that I’m unlocking the front doors of Blast From The Past, I’ve already crossed off half of the things on my to-do list for today. I don’t think that I’ll have many customers this morning, or hell, this afternoon either, so I leave the doors closed and head behind the counter to put my purse away.

I grab my computer from the back room and start the coffeepot before I head back up front and turn on my laptop. I get started on updating the inventory of the online store and checking to see if I have any orders from the last few days. There’s only two and it doesn’t take me long to get them packaged and ready to be shipped.

When my phone rings an hour later, I’m expecting it to be Officer Miles or maybe the insurance company. Instead, it’s one of my friends from summer camp when I was a kid.

“Hey, Hartley! It’s been a while.”

“I know,” she says and I can hear the smile in her voice.

Hartley is always positive. We met when my parents sent me to a summer camp down in Georgia. They had family there and so while they spent a week with family and friends, I spent a week in the forest. I slept in a tent and spent the week either hiking or hiding and reading. I hated every minute of it, but so did Hartley.

We bonded over books and dreams for the future. We tried to stay in touch after camp ended but drifted when we went off to college. It wasn’t until I went down to Atlanta for an antique conference that we reconnected. I was in college and she was studying at the culinary institute. She was at the conference with her grandma and we both fell back into a rhythm like no time had passed at all.

Now we still talk about every two or three weeks. I know that she’s been busy getting ready to graduate from culinary school and I’m assuming that she’s calling to tell me how it was. I can’t wait to hear. Hartley is an amazing chef and baker and she’s been so excited to graduate and open her own bakery with her grandma.

“How are things?” I ask her as I set my laptop aside.

“Alright.”

“Yeah?” This is not how I thought this conversation would go.

---