Heyes and Curry 2000, part 3
One day they were at a bar that didn’t seem too dangerous. The background seemed settled. People minded their own business.
Kid must’ve let down his guard, because nothing bad had happened lately. He was getting along with Heyes and everybody at the circus, the work was good and the pay was steady.
Now he was having a drink, talking to Heyes, when somebody bumped into him. Kid’s drink sloshed over his good shirt, and he put down what was left of the drink on the counter. He turned with narrowed eyes on the man with a beer-belly, thick arms, and thinning hair who’d bumped him.
“Watch yourself,” he snapped.
Heyes’ hand gripped Kid’s arm tightly. Heyes was always anxious to keep out of trouble, out of fights. He’d rather talk his way out of it than anything.
But that wasn’t Kid’s way. He wasn’t good at talking his way out of things. He was, however, good at getting mad, and quick. He shook off Heyes and glared at the stranger.
“Watch yourself, kid,” slurred an angry voice. The man gave him another shove.
Kid shoved him back.
The big man threw a punch and the next thing Kid knew, his attacker was lying on the floor, Kid’s fist was ringing, and he was staring down at a man clutching his chest and moaning.
“Alls I did was hit him once!” Kid cast Heyes a frantic look.
Somebody was dialing for 911. Somebody else bent down to check the man. “I think he’s having a heart attack!”
“Kid, we gotta go.” Heyes tugged on his sleeve urgently.
“But I didn’t mean to-” He threw one agonizing look back at the man who lay dreadfully still. He-he couldn’t have, not with just one punch. Besides that guy had punched him first. Kid hadn’t hit him all that hard. Had he?
How hard was it to gauge your own strength, especially when you’d been working on a farm since you were five years old?
What if Kid had killed him?
Then he was following Heyes, past the confusion and the censorious gazes of a few patrons who bothered to notice.
“Keep your hat down.” Heyes adjusted his own, walking confidently and silently, escaping the busy and confused scene with ease. “C’mon, Kid, hurry,” he whispered, the tension in his words at odds with his calm walk.
They got in Kid’s truck and drove away, belching smoke. “We’ll have to dump the truck. Somebody’s bound to have seen the license and know what it looks like.”
“We can sell it,” said Kid dully. Heyes was driving, taking charge while Kid was in a daze. They bounced over the rutted back roads and passed the ambulance on its way in.
“What if he’s dead?”
“Manslaughter-aggravated assault. Somebody will back your story up. But it won’t be me.”
Kid turned to look at his friend, aghast. “Heyes? What are you talking about? You were there. You saw it. You can vouch for me.”
Heyes might be the only one who would. To everyone else, they were strangers, and the-the heart attack man was a regular. In a twisted version of real events, people who had probably only been halfway paying attention would suddenly remember that Kid had been the proddy one, had attacked an older man without cause (a man who’d only bumped into him) and then he’d run.
Damn, he had run. He’d look even guiltier now. And the man had stopped moving….
“They’ll be after me,” said Kid. “I’ve gotta run. I’m not getting locked up.”
“Might only get a year or two with a good defense,” said Heyes.
“Yeah, but you won’t testify.” Kid’s voice was heavy with sarcasm, but he thought he already knew why.
“Kid, I can’t.”
“It’s ‘cuz you’re wanted, ain’t it?”
Heyes bit his lip-and reluctantly nodded. “If they took my name, they’d-they’d find out I’m wanted. In Kansas. Not for anything too bad,” he reassured Kid.
“Well, that’s a relief,” said Kid with even heavier sarcasm. “Wouldn’t want to travel with a criminal or anything.”
Heyes cast him a quick look. “Travel? You gonna run?”
Kid’s mouth tightened. “Looks like I don’t have much choice.” He didn’t want to end up in jail, and he knew enough about working under the table. He could survive on the lam, at least for a while.
“Good,” said Heyes, with a sigh of relief. “We’ll go together. Let’s get my truck, and head out.”
“We’ll have to sell ‘em both and get new ones,” warned Kid. With Heyes’ silver tongue, they should last even longer. “They’ll figure out it was us soon enough.”
“Yeah, probably be best,” agreed Heyes. He sounded more cheerful now that a plan was in motion. “I have a little money saved up, but not much. You got any?”
“No,” said Kid.
“I guess we could rob a b-”
“Shut up, Heyes!”
#
The sun shone watery, pale in the barely-dawn morning. Kid cracked a huge yawn, scraped his hand back through his hair and scratched at his scalp. He needed a shower. He needed a hot cup of coffee. He needed a lot of things, and they were things you didn’t get on the lam.
After leaving the circus with their quickly-gathered gear, he and Heyes had stopped only when they needed gas. They drove till they were two states away.
Both had been hungry and thirsty by the time they stopped, gummy-eyed and cranky. Kid’s guts had been knotting in hunger and stress till he felt like his guts were a black hole. He was hollow inside, something more than hunger, a terrible, ravenous beast pulling him apart inside.
They’d traded off driving and dozing, jumpy and determined, carefully following speed limits except on the real deserted roads. Kid was a good driver. Heyes was, too. They hadn’t kept Kid’s vehicle, but they’d taken Heyes’.
They’d parked on the side of the road off the beaten track after they finally talked themselves into stopping for fast food and more water bottles. They’d taken some food and water with them, along with all their money and some clothes, thrown hastily together before leaving the circus. But being in the sun in a ratty vehicle showed the seedy side of this life pretty quick. Neither of them smelled too good, they’d both had blood-shot eyes, got hungry and thirsty, and started snapping at each other.
Finally, last night they’d stopped, unrolled sleeping bags and slept in the bed of the truck. It was smoother than the lumpy ground here, and less likely to draw snakes.
Heyes had growled at him to stay on his side of the truck bed, looking downright mean and nasty with his bloodshot eyes and his days’-worth of beard growth.
Kid had snarled something rude back-though he couldn’t remember what now-and slept like the dead.
#
After that their hard life began. They were both too jumpy and wary to want to risk finding out how closely the law was pursuing them. Every time they heard sirens, Heyes jumped, Kid’s shoulders and jaw tightened painfully.
Running from the law was much the way it had been running from his father. If he was caught, it would mean pain, humiliation, and his freedom taken away again. Sometimes it felt like he was running from both the law and his dad. Like he was just running, reason gone.
At night, bundled in sleeping bags, Heyes’ voice followed the rabbit trails of Kid’s own fears and paranoias: “They could be checkin’ security cameras, Kid. We should be wearing hats when we go into stores.” Or: “Did you think that farmer looked at you funny today? Maybe we should move on, not finish the job for him after all.”
Sometimes Kid grunted. Sometimes he rolled over and ignored Heyes and tried to sleep. But most of the time he agreed: they had to be more careful.
Feral: reverted to the wild.
That was one of his Power Words, and he thought of it when he looked at Heyes sometimes, or glimpsed himself in the chrome of a bumper, reflected in the truck’s cracked mirrors or an age-stained gas station mirror. No wonder they were getting funny looks. They looked jittery, on edge: men leading hard lives on the edge, running and afraid to look back.
Sometimes he wondered what they were running from most of all, their personal pasts or the law.
#
They were side by side in their sleeping bags. Heyes stared up at the stars, hands crossed behind his head. He smelled bad; even from here, he smelled bad.
Kid remembered the last time they’d got to wash properly: three days ago, taking turns in the rusty barn shower. Heyes was surprisingly shy, showering faster than he had to, then grabbing his towel close to himself, hurrying away on bare feet, getting dirty again from the barn floor, so Kid could take his turn. Now he smelled as bad again as if he hadn’t bathed in a month. Kid knew he was no better-smelling.
Now staring at the stars, Heyes spoke quietly. “Maybe we should call Lom, see what’s going on.” He made it casual, but Kid could hear it in his voice: he wanted to go back.
In response to Heyes’ hint, Kid snorted loudly. “You want to give them a number to trace?”
“Lom wouldn’t turn us in.” Heyes sounded like he wanted to believe that, but not like he actually did.
“You call him, you let me get a head start first.” Kid had visions of a SWAT-like team zeroing in on them, like on the TV shows. We traced his call! Mobilize the unit! We’ve got them, sir.
“I don’t want to split. We need to watch each other’s back. I just meant we could see how it stands. Maybe he’d tell us how close they are. Hell, maybe that guy even survived, ever think of that?”
Kid did think of that. Every damn day. “Look, I just don’t see a way we can find out without risking it. You wanna risk it?”
Heyes was silent.
Kid rolled over on his shoulder. It hurt. All his muscles hurt; it had been a hard day of stacking hay and mending fences for a far too low, under-the-table payment. He was used to that.
Apparently Heyes wasn’t.
“I ain’t cut out for this life, Kid.”
Kid lay still, holding his breath.
“I’m not made of iron the way you are, Kid. This is the hardest work I’ve ever done. I’m so damn weary, some days jail looks good. I could rest on a bed, there. And you know how I feel about jail.” This he said real low; it was the only reference he’d made to jail since the day Kid guessed.
Kid swallowed, hard. “So, you’re going back?” Why did that feel like betrayal? They were hardly even friends.
Why should he care what Heyes did with his life? He was a loser anyway. “Fine. Don’t turn me in.” His mouth had a bitter twist to it and he closed his eyes against the big, wilderness-bright stars.
“Kid.” Heyes said the word like a sigh, like surrender. “I said I didn’t want to split, didn’t I? But we have to figure something out. I can’t live like this forever.”
Kid breathed again. The fierce, hurt, angry, rejected feelings abated. “Okay. Use your head. Think of something. I’ll back you up. But I don’t trust Lom and I don’t wanna go to jail.”
“Well, I don’t want to try bull-riding, so we’re even.”
The conversation petered out; they had more to say, more to figure out, but they didn’t know what it was.
#
The wheels must’ve picked their direction on their own: Kid certainly hadn’t consciously picked this direction. In fact, if asked, he’d have said he wanted to go any which way but his hometown.
Yet somehow they ended up here, and Kid had been driving. He glanced at Heyes, looking to see if he’d figured it out. Kid was sure it must show on his face: the guilt, the anxiety, the fact that every street was so familiar.
Heyes stretched out bonelessly in the passenger seat, scrunching down, hat tilted over his head. “Sure could use that cider, Kid.” Heyes had kept talking about it for the last hour: cold, sweet cider, if he could only have it once more in his life.
“Yeah, yeah.”
It felt completely natural to pull up between the almost-disappeared white lines of a small parking space at the gas station where he used to maybe once a month buy himself a Dr. Pepper.
It also felt real natural to walk to the humming fridge, pick up a half-gallon of cider, and haul it to the counter. He grabbed a Butterfinger on the way, and then a Snickers for Heyes.
Heyes stood at the counter, leaning against it, his hat tipped up, smiling at a yellow-haired girl. She was smiling back, all her attention on him.
Even then, it wouldn’t have been too late. He could’ve turned around, put the things back, walked out and told Heyes where to find them later.
But he was stupid from a hot day of driving and road glare. He was stupid and slow and he didn’t recognize the girl fast enough.
A look of amazement crossed her face, slow and unstoppable as her big grin. “Jed! Jed Curry! I do declare! I can’t believe you’re comin’ home! Your dad will be so happy. You just missed him, though! You’ll have to wait till he gets back from the trade fair at the end of the week. I can’t believe you came home!”
Kid didn’t know what to say. He just mumbled something as he bought his purchases, his holding the half gallon hand growing numb. He walked off as quick as he could.
Heyes’ boots came running after him, and then his hand was there, pressing warm coins into Kid’s hand, relieving him of the cider. “Forgot your change, Kid.” His smile was wry, warm. He drank the cider standing there, before they walked to the truck. He held the plastic container up and drank deep, deep. Then he handed it to Kid and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Ahh.”
Kid drank, tasting sunshine and old apples. He stared at nothing, and Heyes’ hands were searching and careful as they pried the half-gallon from him again. They drank most of it, handing it back and forth.
“So. Your dad,” said Heyes.
Kid shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it.
Heyes shaded his eyes, looking into Kid’s. “You want to visit your family while he’s gone? That why we’re here?”
Kid shrugged.
Heyes’ hand touched his arm, light, warm. “You want to see your mom? Siblings?”
He had a desert in his throat; hard to get the words past, but he did: he did. “Don’t have a mom.” He closed his eyes against old pain.
After waiting it out, he said the rest. “I have a sister.” Apple of his father’s eye. (Where did you get an expression like that from, anyway?) Where little Jed could do no right and took the brunt of his father’s rage, she got his affection when he had any to give. He believed in her.
“Kid.” Heyes’ hand reached out and landed on his shoulder, lightly, then with more pressure. “We’re here now. Let’s go see your sister. Maybe she can give us some grub.”
Grub. Oh yeah. “Here.” Kid fumbled for the Snickers, handed it over.
Heyes grinned as though Kid had just made the funniest joke ever. He took the bar and ripped it open. With his mouth full, he said, “I still think we should go.”
Kid looked down at the candy bar in his own hands. It wasn’t very big in his hands. The plastic was thin and shiny. It wouldn’t fill him up, just make him hungrier.
Maybe there’d be biscuits at home. Maybe Jo would be glad to see him, with Dad away.
He’d never felt more homesick in his life.
He slid the candy into his pocket. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
#
Kid drove, again.
He took them down the small road, to a smaller road, to a dirt track. It was a big ranch, his dad’s place. He wanted to show it off to Heyes, tell him about all the familiar places and things, show him the animals.
But it had been so long, a lot must’ve changed with the stock. Probably even some of the hands were gone. He hadn’t seen this place since he was fifteen.
Being on Curry land again was like a tight ache in his chest, squeezing, suffocating tighter till he could hardly breathe. He wanted to run away, and he wanted to run closer, both at the same time.
Partway down the road to the big ranch house, Heyes reached over and squeezed his arm. His hand stayed there.
With the windows open, Kid breathed familiar, reddish dust from the hot, dry road. When he parked the truck, he glanced over and saw it on Heyes, that same dust on him now, too, the dust of home.
There were more and different vehicles parked around than usual: dilapidated old farm trucks, fancy little sporty cars.
From inside the ranch house, even from here, he could hear loud music and female voices raised in giggles and squeals. His sister and her friends, partying like it was 1999.
He and Heyes got out of their battered truck, wearing their ragged clothes, cowboy hats, and boots. They walked up to the door. Kid knocked. He wondered when he’d be able to breathe again, when this crushing sensation would go away.
His sister flung the door open grandly, a can of beer in one hand and a grin on her face. At sight of him, the beer lowered, the grin died and her party spirit fled. Suddenly she looked almost sober. “Jed!”
“Hey Jo.”
“Hey.” Her gaze focused on his face.
No, she was still drunk, he saw from the hazy look in her eyes. Even the shock of seeing him wasn’t quite enough to send that haze away.
She looked older than he remembered, and he thought, older than she should look. Her face was so familiar it hurt, a sharp pang in his stomach, such a part of his childhood, the good and the bad.
How hard was she hitting the bottle, and why did she still live with Dad? he wondered suddenly. She was two years older than he was, so…old enough to be on her own for sure. Then again, she and Dad had always gotten along pretty well. With a bitter twist in his gut, he knew they must be happier without him. He’d always known, he supposed.
She glimpsed Heyes behind him. “C’mon in. Who’s your friend, Jed?”
“This is Heyes.” He jerked a thumb towards the man.
Heyes doffed his cowboy hat, giving his dimples a workout, along with his best ‘Western’ accent. “Howdy.”
Jolene laughed. “He’s cute.”
“I know,” said Kid in disgust. He cast his gaze around the kitchen. Surprisingly, it wasn’t in so much of a mess as you’d think, considering there were four girls at the kitchen table playing poker in various states of drink and undress.
One of them was a dishwater blond girl he used to have a crush on. Tracy. One of his sister’s liveliest friends, who’d never noticed him even though she’d filled his thoughts for years.
Today, Tracy filled his thoughts even more. She wasn’t wearing a shirt.
He stopped dead in his tracks, couldn’t move or think, utterly aware of every inch of his body, tingling and extremely embarrassed, and unable to look away.
Kid blushed scarlet at the sight of her smoking a cigarette around her lipstick, a beer and a half-eaten piece of pizza in front of her. She sat with her legs tucked up under her. It gave her a look of poignant elegancy, despite her state of non-sobriety. Her hands looked so slender and expressive holding her cards. And her chest had a sort of flush to it, showing the swell and curve of her breasts past the pink lace bra she wore.
Tracy’s eyes rose and met his, laughing and assessing, with a hint of mockery. Her mouth curved up around the cigarette, tilting it. “Hey, Kid.”
“Hey,” managed Kid.
“We’re playing Strip Poker.” Her eyes laughed at him, and she shifted her torso a bit, showing how much she had to show. Her gaze transferred past him to Heyes, lingered.
She smiled at Heyes, a nicer smile, one she seemed to mean. “What do you think, Jo? These boys old enough to sit in on the game?”
He heard the grin in Heyes’ voice behind him. “Depends. You got any of that pizza and beer for us?”
He walked past Kid, knocking him lightly on the arm with a fist, and scraped out a kitchen chair to join the girls. It was such a familiar sound, something that filled him with dread from when his father would rise angry from the table, that it snapped him out of his Tracy-stupor. He turned to look at his friend.
Heyes was at his sharpest-looking around the eyes, and he was using that smile to full effect to charm Jo, Tracy, and their friends. Kid alone saw the wariness and strain behind that look, just how hard he was trying to get control of the situation, find out what was going on and land them in a safe place.
Jo’s fingers closed around Kid’s arm. “Dad’s not here. That why you came?” She handed him half a can of beer. It was still cool, but not cold. They must be running low on ice; probably she’d just stuck a few cans in the fridge and not bothered to wait for them to chill completely.
Kid took a swig. It cleared his dry throat a little. “We were in the area.” He darted a gaze at her to see if she looked suspicious, but she didn’t. “How’s everything?”
“Good. We got some good horses. Daddy’s going to get more.”
Daddy. She still called him ‘Daddy.’
“Dave’s gone. He quit, after you left.”
Kid nodded. He remembered rock-hard hands teaching him to make a lariat, the short, squat man who didn’t say much. (Taciturn: a good Power Word.)
Most of all, he remembered a man who’d believed in him.
It didn’t surprise him Dave had gone. It surprised him the man had stayed as long as he had. Mr. Curry could be a hard boss, and Dave hadn’t approved of his child-rearing methods. Even when he didn’t say anything, you could tell, and Kid’s father didn’t like that, didn’t make Dave’s work any easier for it.
Jo said, “I think you broke his heart.”
“Who? Dave’s?” Kid blinked.
She rolled her eyes. “Dad’s.”
Kid snorted. “He ain’t got one.”
“Kid,” said Heyes, his voice holding a note of command. Kid turned. A message passed between them, startlingly clear in Heyes’ eyes: ‘Is it safe? Can we stay the night?’
He turned back to Jo. “When’s Dad coming home?”
“Weekend.” She pried the beer free from his hand and took another sip, her eyes narrowing. “You thinking of staying?”
“A night or two.”
“You come for money?”
He shook his head. It hadn’t occurred to him.
She turned away from him and opened the fridge, stood with the coolness wafting up at her face, one bare foot lifted behind her. Waving the door back and forth with the same hand that held her beer, she pulled her shirt away from her body, fanning herself.
Kid turned to the poker table. Heyes caught his arm, pulled him to the seat next to him. One of the girls pushed a beer towards him and grinned at him. “You grew up, Kid.”
He nodded.
“Have a piece of pizza,” said Heyes, his hands pushing one with pepperoni into Kid’s hands. There was something solicitous, protective about him. Kid was too numb to appreciate it. He took a deep drink and watched as the cards were counted out, around the table, around again like a fair ride. He sat at his kitchen table with his sister, a topless Tracy, three other girls, and Heyes. It felt like something in a weird dream, not reality.
“Nuh-uh. No hats,” said one of the girls, wagging her finger at the boys. “That’s not fair! And you’re starting late, so you have to spot us one piece of clothing each.”
“One boot?” suggested Heyes, his grin wicked and his dimples especially deep.
“Two if it’s boots.” She grinned back. “We want to see some skin.”
“Please!” Jo leaned back, waving her hands in the air, making a face. “He’s my little brother and his friend. They’re kids.”
“I ain’t,” said Heyes in a sturdy voice. “I’m twenty-six. How old are you?”
Kid stared at him. Was Heyes really that old? He’d figured Heyes for a year or two older than him, at most.
Jo’s brows rose. “Ooh. Twenty-six. We got us a mature man here with us, girls.” She took a long drink. “We oughta take advantage of that, what do you say?”
“I say we get his pants off him.” Tracy sat up, waggling her chest a little towards Heyes.
Heyes. It was always Heyes.
Even here, sitting at his kitchen table where he’d spent a tense childhood wondering if his dad was going to fly off the handle and hit him today. Now his sister was drunk and acting mean, his boyhood crush was flirting with Heyes.
Kid scraped his chair back and hurried from the room, practically running. His steps were longer than when he was a little boy. They took him to the barn quickly.
#
Kid stood leaning in the doorway, breathing a mix of clean air and cigarette smoke. He watched Heyes approaching, his walk cocky and confident, his hat tilted to shield his face against the sun. As far as Kid could see, Heyes hadn’t taken off any clothes. Or if he had, he’d put them back on the same way, real careful.
Probably Heyes had already gone all the way, sharing all his dimples and discovering all the secret places of a wickedly smiling Tracy. Maybe he was imagining it; even Heyes couldn’t work that fast. But even imagining it made him feel mean and bitter. He knew very well Heyes could have any girl in that place if he played his cards right. And Heyes was great at cards.
And Kid was still just the scruffy little brother who got tongue-tied around girls, the little boy that was just wrong somehow, the one that Dad hadn’t loved, the one whose birth had killed his own mother.
Heyes walked up to him and stopped.
“So?” said Kid, blowing out a breath of smoke. His hands were shaking a little, he was so mad, and he was at the end of his cigarette already; it hadn’t calmed him enough. “Is Tracy any good or just a good tease? I gotta hand it to you, you work fast. Or maybe you picked my sister?”
He didn’t know any words dirty enough to say how he felt about Heyes right now, and he knew a bunch. See? Power Words hadn’t taught him what he needed to know after all.
He spat on the ground and reached for another cigarette. I trusted you, he wanted to say, but it would sound childish, and besides, he’d never really trusted Heyes. Never completely. He knew at least half his rage had nothing to do with Heyes at all.
Heyes took a step closer, looking at Kid, assessing him. “I didn’t,” he said, voice soft. He stood still, ready and very, very calm. “We’ll stay the night and leave tomorrow morning. Unless you can’t stand it, Kid. I won’t make you stay if you don’t want to.” Heyes reached out with one gloved hand and rested it on Kid’s arm.
Kid jerked free. “You couldn’t make me do anything and you know it.” His voice sounded like he was going to start crying any second, but he wasn’t, damn it. “And you don’t have to gentle me like I’m a horse, so keep your bastard hands to yourself.”
“I am a bastard,” said Heyes in a quiet steady voice.
“I know.”
“So I don’t mind you calling me that.”
Kid got it then, and he blinked. That’s not the sort of thing you admit to; even these days, nobody wanted to say it.
Heyes’ eyes were serious and dark. “But you gotta know if you want to push me away, you can: any time. You want me gone, I’ll go. But I haven’t betrayed you with your old crush, and I won’t. I’ll stay away from the girls, and I’ll leave with you right now if you want. Just don’t act like I’m your enemy because far as I know, I’m the one person who isn’t.” His voice was quiet, hard, and not charming at all.
A prickle of cold slid down Kid’s neck. Part of him wanted to push Heyes away before Heyes could leave and let him down. The rest of him was frightened by this dark-eyed Heyes confronting him so quietly: was scared Heyes really would leave. As so often happened when he really needed them, words deserted him.
Heyes looked at him for a moment, then lowered his gaze and moved to lean against the side of the barn an arm’s-length away from Kid. He fished for and lit a cigarette, handed it to Kid. “I’m sorry you’re upset. So, do you want to leave?”
Kid took a deep, shaky breath laden with nicotine and smoke. “He sold my favorite horse.” He pushed his hat up with one thumb, leaned back against the barn and sighed, closing his eyes up at the sky. “Damn, I loved that horse.”
Heyes was a comforting presence beside him, silent for once, not saying anything, but not leaving either. They smoked and Kid thought about everything he’d lost, and the things he’d never had even once.
Here he was on the run from the law, all at the age of twenty-one, with a man who had become, impossibly, his friend.
Kid hadn’t had a lot of friends in his life, so he didn’t know how to compare what he and Heyes had with what was ordinary. But if you thought about it, it was pretty special to have somebody who’d go on the lam with you. Not to mention turn down Tracy because she was your crush.
He looked at Heyes. “Are you really twenty-six?”
Dimples showed with a slow, unstoppable smile. “What do you think?”
Kid shrugged. “I can’t tell. I thought you were closer to my age.”
“And you are?” Heyes’ eyes sparkled as he dared Kid to finally tell him the truth about his age.
Kid dropped his finished cigarette, scuffed it out with the heel of his worn-down boot. “I turned twenty-one a couple days before I met you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and encountered the Butterfinger, now somewhat mangled. He pulled it from his pocket. “You want half?”
Heyes made a face and raised a hand. “No thanks. I’m going to have some more pizza. And I think I saw some ribs in the fridge. If you’ve got a grill around here, I can make a mean barbeque.”
“You cook?”
“I don’t mean to brag, but I sure do, Kid.”
“This I gotta taste.” Kid fell into step with his friend without really thinking about it. The two of them meandered back towards the house. Heyes’ hand landed on Kid’s back.
Oddly, it made him feel safer. Like maybe in this whole world there was one person who wanted him, who liked him.