Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
The dull light spilling in from a streetlamp through the opened front door illuminates their tattered, wounded faces, a sickly amber light catching all their emotion. The house is otherwise dark and empty. But in the presence of Elias and his strong, deep, sincere eyes, for the first time in years, Kyle doesn’t feel that usual, crippling sense of lonesomeness.
Which might be the reason he says: “Everyone here calls me Henry, but … my real name is Kyle. Kyle Amos. No one here knows that, and no one can.”
Elias gazes upon Kyle, earnest, present, reliable. “My full name is Elias Asad Trujillo. And if that name means nothing to you, then you can count yourself goddamned lucky.”
11.
Straight to the Heart.
—∙—
Kyle washes the glass, sets it on the bar counter.
Then he wonders if he had already washed that glass before and just washed it again for no reason.
He could be dead right now.
A pile of ash in the desert, blown away, gone.
But instead, he’s still here. Washing glasses. Like nothing happened. Like his life refused to end.
His employment with Death, refusing to terminate.
What a strange, strange feeling.
Kyle’s mind isn’t here, nowhere close. It’s stuck back at the house, back with Elias. As it turns out, Elias can’t go home with the chance of a pesky vehicle still combing the streets looking for him. Elias’s truck sitting on his driveway is a dead giveaway of his presence in town, so unless the truck is hidden somehow, whoever’s looking for him will know he’s here.
So it seems Kyle has a houseguest for the time being.
He isn’t sure yet whether he minds.
Or how this is going to work.
Was it foolish to tell Elias his real name? Has he become so reckless that he’s willing to break every one of Tristan’s rules?
Kyle grabs an order from the kitchen, finds himself staring at a piece of meat Leland left on the grill top, watching it sizzle and smoke for way too long.
Is that what he looked like this morning?
Maybe Elias was right. Maybe it was Henry who burned up out in that desert.
It’s around eleven o’clock after the evening rush that Cade finds him. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” He’s by the jukebox figuring out why it’s been stuck playing the same song on loop for the past hour. He looks up at her. “You sent that text about being late, but I didn’t know it’d be several hours. I could have called Becks in to cover for you. This isn’t like you, Henry.”
Kyle nods. “Sorry. Had a rough day. Won’t happen again.”
She leans against the side of the jukebox. Her voice turns soft. “Do you want to talk? Did something happen?”
“No,” he says. “I’m fine.”
“You do some yard work today? Plant a tree? Looks like you got a little too much sun.”
If only she knew.
The door to the bar swings open right then, letting in the brooding, rigid shape of Police Chief Rojas. He skulks right up to the pair of them. “Cadence,” he says briskly.
Cade turns to him. “Chief,” she greets him. “What brings you here? Want Leland to whip you up a little something?”
“I’m fine.” He eyes Kyle in the usual contemptuous way. Kyle never minds. “Can I speak to you in your office? I’ve got some questions, shouldn’t be long.”
“Of course.” She turns to Kyle. “We’ll talk later, you and I. Oh, since I’m being pulled, can you ask Leland to run the trash now while it’s slow? Afraid he’ll forget like last time.”
“Sure thing,” says Kyle somewhat absently. While the chief continues to stare him down, he finds himself wondering about Elias at the police station that first night. Does the name Elias Asad Trujillo mean something to the chief? Should he ask?
“I appreciate it, Henry,” says Cade, then disappears into the office with the chief, leaving Kyle with his thoughts.
Maybe it’s for the better he doesn’t ask at all.
Deciding to leave the one or two occupants of the bar in the company of the rogue jukebox and its recent obsession with an obscure 90s folk song, Kyle slips into the kitchen to relay the message to Leland, only to find him sitting on an overturned crate nursing what appears to be a burn on his hand. He looks up. “Fucking fryer got me. Need something?”
Kyle decides to do it himself. “Nope. Just keep an eye on the bar for me, will you? I’m gonna take out the trash.”
The alley behind the bar is silent and empty. As Kyle takes the two bags of trash to the dumpster, a mouse scuttles away, flitting down the alley and around the corner. He throws both heavy bags into the dumpster with ease. He stops halfway to the door when his phone buzzes, which startles him, as it’s the first time in a long time the device has indicated any sign of life.