Page 21 of The Way We Are

“That’s your take from last night,” Isaac informs me, his deep tone hindered by a small bout of laughter from my panicked scan of our surroundings. “I removed Cormack’s cut, and put aside a little for the next round. Nothing against you, I just wasn’t sure if you had the means of storing five thousand dollars safely.” He shrugs his shoulders, lessening the severity of his words.

Even with his assumption being dead accurate, a little bit of annoyance still thickens my blood. I don’t know why. “So after all that, how much am I left with?” I ask before I can stop my words.

I should hand the money back to him and walk away. But no matter how many times I try to push the envelope to his side of the table, my hands refuse to budge. I’ve never seen this much money, let alone had the opportunity to grasp it in my hand.

Isaac scrubs the back of his hand over his mouth to remove some ketchup from his top lip before answering, “A little over 10K.”

I choke on my spit, certain I heard him wrong. “What? 10K? Are you fucking serious?!”

He must be joking. He has to be!

Isaac rolls his shoulders before arching a brow. “Do I look like a man who jokes?”

“No,” I answer without pause, my one word incapable of hiding the seriousness in my reply.

I've never met someone as direct as Isaac, and I'm a regular visitor to the principal's office, so I'm rather familiar with authority.

"But that don't mean shit. Maybe this is from your private stash, and you're fooling with me." I glance over his shoulder, anticipating seeing Cormack recording my gap-jawed response with his fancy phone.

Isaac laughs, apparently amused. “Did you fight last night, Ryan?”

When I nod, he asks, “Did you win?”

I nod again. Although I would have preferred for last night to end differently, it was still a step in the right direction to fix the massive bridge that’s been lodged between Savannah and me the past five years, so I’ll class it as a win.

Spotting my agreeing gesture, Isaac says, “Then that’s your money.”

He lowers his eyes to the envelope I’m clutching like it's my lifeline. Although my heart has pumped blood for years before this envelope entered my life and will continue functioning for years after it's gone, it has added a massive surge of oxygen to my veins, reviving them from their faint, weak existence. I’d be an idiot to treat it as anything less than a miracle.

I only remove my eyes from my one-way ticket out of this town when Isaac stands from his seat to put on a business jacket. Just like last night, he's wearing an expensive-looking suit, vest, and tie. And just like me, he uses accessories to conceal his age. His threads are just fancier than mine.

“Holt... You’re Isaac Holt, aren’t you?” Although I’m technically asking a question, my tone holds so much confidence, you wouldn’t know I am.

Remaining quiet, Isaac slips a hundred-dollar bill under the plate of his barely touched burger. He then heads for the exit without so much as a backward glance in my direction. I stare at the door he slid through without setting the bell off in shock and awe. Even without his confirmation, I am certain he is Isaac Holt. I’d even put money on it.

I’m startled to within an inch of my life when Marnie plucks the hundred-dollar bill off the tabletop to scan it for authenticity.

“Yippee!” she squeals when it comes up genuine.

Her excitement mirrors what I’m struggling to contain as the weight of the envelope grows heavier the longer I hold it. I have ten thousand dollars in my hand.Ten-motherfucking-thousand dollars!

To saythe next three hours of my shift dragged would be an understatement. It was the slowest and most mundane three hours of my life. If I hadn’t realized that ten thousand dollars would barely keep Savannah in the comforts she is accustomed to for a month, I would have handed in my notice. Fortunately, my senses woke up before I made a costly mistake.

If I am being honest, daydreaming about riding off into the sunset with Savannah on a white horse isn’t the only inane thought I’ve had the past three hours. I also thought about my mom and the possibilities ten thousand dollars could open up for her. This money isn’t just a windfall; it's a gamechanger.

While heading to my truck parked at the front of Bob’s, I drag my cell out of my pocket, preparing to call Chris. Since my shift started an hour before Chris hauls his sorry ass out of bed on a Saturday, I thought it would be polite for me to wait until after I finished work. It's the least I could do since he never accepts payment for his mechanical knowledge.

When I flip open the screen of my phone, my heart gains an extra beat. There's a text message slashed across the screen from a number I know by heart: Savannah’s old cell phone.

Savannah:Just because your truck’s engine is broken doesn’t mean she should be left unlocked. Her retro curves are worth more than her motor.

Her comment makes me smile. I brought my truck because of her overworked fenders. Since she was a little girl, Savannah has appreciated the smooth lines of cars manufactured way before our time. Her love of classic vehicles rubbed off on me when I saw a rusty old 1934 Chevy Classic in the wrecking lot nearly two years ago. My truck still has a long way to go, but she's a lot prettier than she used to be.

Although I should be calling Chris, I slide into the driver’s seat of my truck to return Savannah’s message in private.

Me:They wouldn’t get far. The bitch won’t start.

Since Savannah’s message was sent over four hours ago, I don’t expect her to reply instantly. So you can imagine my surprise when she does.

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