Page 77 of Knock Knock

“Nailed it, bud.” Was it weird to still call him bud now that he was my baby? Kinda. I liked baby, even though I jumbled it up sometimes. “We’re going to Redding. Wanna come?” I asked Evan.

“Fine.”

What a little dick.

“You know how to throw a punch?” Xavi asked him.

So, for the rest of the drive to Redding, Evan punched Xavi a million times while getting pointers about force and thumb placement. Nothing was mentioned about his beat-up face, and I fell in love with Xavi a little more. Even when he complained about how sore his arm was.

* * *

Patrick motherfucking Harris.

Devon said he ran money through this scratch-and-dent furniture place, but I hadn’t been expecting to actually see him. He stood in the back office, polishing those yellow aviators on his tracksuit sweater, chatting with the owner in hushed tones.

Xavi didn’t care. His eyes were lit up like the northern lights at all the dented fridges with water dispensers. Evan stood beside him, unsure what we were so excited about. He figured a fridge was a fridge, meant to keep shit cold and nothing more. But Xavi wanted ice! He wanted to press his cup to that dispenser and get all giddy about his cold drink of water and the cubes for his rum mixes.

And I was going to deliver.

I snatched the price tag off the fridge and marched up to Harris. The owner of the store disappeared inside his office, probably knowing what kind of customer Harris usually brought by.

“Mr. Sawyer,” he greeted me with a fake gangster smile. “Pleasure.”

I held up the sign that said $999 and raised my brow at him. “You can do better.”

“I don’t own this establishment. Sorry.” He put on his aviators and tried to walk past me. Like hell I was letting a scum lord interfere with Xavi’s dream. Harris sighed, looking at me through the lenses. “I can get him to knock a hundred off. That’s it.”

I grabbed a permanent marker off the desk, scratched out the price, and wrote the amount I could almost afford. $300. “I’ll take it for this.”

Harris laughed. Right in my face. Just like everyone else used to laugh in my face, behind my back, and to my side. It rattled the old version of me that had always felt like a joke, bringing forth my anger.

“Something funny, Harris?”

“The fact that you think you hold any clout with me to get that discount. What have you ever done to deserve this favour?” He brushed past me, still laughing.

Well, I didn’t want a favour anymore. I wanted a bargain. So, walking up to Xavi and Evan, I knelt down to open the freezer door to make sure it was in top-notch shape.

“You see those yellow sunglasses he’s rubbing on his shirt?” I asked Evan.

“Yeah.”

“Oh god,” Xavi gasped, freaking out. “You wouldn’t!”

“Think you can pinch them?” I asked the kid. “And don’t go all moral on me. I’ve seen you steal a bunch of shit from the park.”

Evan looked at me like I was beneath him. With a glare that turned into a Devon-level eye roll, he grinned and started to stalk around the outskirts of the store.

Xavi stood at my side, biting his damn nails. “This is risky, Neegs. Harris has a gun on him.”

“I’ve never seen him shoot it.”

“You think Evan would still do it if he knew…oh my god!” Xavi jumped up in the air.

Right as Harris leaned over a counter to chat with a saleswoman, Evanyoinkedthe sunglasses straight out of his hand and made a run for it.

“Hey! You little fucker! Give those back!” Harris screamed, but Evan was already out the front door and not looking back.

Xavi took off to block Harris’ path, and as soon as I got there, I looked Harris straight in the eye and laughed inhisfucking face. “You hand deliver that fridge to our trailer—Lot 62, you remember the one?—for the money I wrote down, and you’ll get your precious aviators back. Deal?”

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