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)
“Are the hoodie guy’s wife and child okay, do you know? What was he talking about? Are you holding them hostage?”
“I’d like to know how he made the bullet disappear,” cuts in a woman from one of the booths, to which her friend scoffs and says, “Damn it, Laurie, the bullet didn’t disappear, the gun fired a blank, I told you.” “No, it didn’t, I have eyes,” the other retorted, annoyed, “and I know what I saw!”
The room swells with more questions and remarks as every person gives their opinion, asks questions, makes a point about the video, or argues with someone else. At first, Kyle tries to calm them down, but soon finds it’s no use, everyone deciding they’d rather debate it with each other than listen to him. After a while, he sighs and leans against the wall, defeated, helpless. None of this seems productive or good.
“What are we doing??” someone’s voice booms from one of the barstools.
The room grows quiet. Kyle looks.
It’s Jeremy, who has climbed up to the top of a stool, his short, spiky bleached hair like white fire under the bar lighting.
“I was the one who was there,” he says. “In the flesh. Me, with a gun at my head, in the headlock of that madman. Have we forgotten the video already? Did you even see it, or are you just going off what someone else said?”
“Son …” comes the police chief, stepping forward.
But Jeremy carries on. “This man saved my life!”
Eyes in the room shift between Kyle and Jeremy, silent, contemplative, anxious, curious.
“Don’t nitpick him to death,” says Jeremy. “Just take him at his word. I don’t want to see this hero rushed out of town because you guys are afraid of him. It isn’t us who should be afraid. It’s assholes like that guy who put a gun to my head who should be trembling in their fucking boots.”
“Goddamn it, Jer, your language,” mumbles the chief.
“No one will mess with us now. Don’t you see that? No one! And if they do, Kyle’s here to protect us. Kyle is one of us.” Jeremy rides the high of his barstool soapbox, everyone’s attention in his palms. “I don’t care what he is. Or what he eats, even if he does want some blood from time to time. Who cares what his name is? He’s the guy who saved my life, that’s what he is. Nothing else matters.”
Kyle shrinks against the wall as more and more eyes are upon him, reconsidering everything, a new wave of curiosity.
“I think we should support him,” concludes Jeremy. “This video that leaked out, maybe nothing will come of it, or maybe a whole lot of something. We don’t know that yet. Whichever outcome it is, I think we need to be there for Kyle. We need to respect his wishes and help keep it secret.” Jeremy gazes at Kyle across the room. “We need to be his family.”
Kyle feels fidgety. There are so many emotions in this room. Maybe he’s picking up a tiny piece of everyone’s, all of it infiltrating the corners of his mind, shaking on the doors. The collective uncertainties. Intrigue. Excitement. Wonder.
A hand rests on Kyle’s shoulder. He flinches, startled. Cade has come up to his side, giving him an encouraging squeeze.
“Fine,” says one of the bakery sisters with a nod. “Yep,” the other one says, “I’m good.” “He’s a great listener,” says the café owner, his wife giving him a quizzical look. “He’s already like family to me,” says Leland at Kyle’s other side, big blue eyes on the verge of crying, “like a b-brother I never had.”
The spontaneous testimonials and praise keep coming from all over the room, catching on as quickly as the bickering did, overlapping like waves against a shore, until the only thing Kyle hears is the noise of resounding acceptance, relief, and cheer.
Kyle stares out at the room, overwhelmed. Most of what’s being said isn’t even directed at him, but rather at each other, as the whole town seems to talk themselves into supporting Kyle and his secret, right before his eyes.
“I guess everyone came through for you, huh?” asks Cade, her hand still on his shoulder. “Lucky us.”
Kyle is too numb to respond at first. Could it really be that easy? Could the worst experience imaginable, the very thing he dreaded, be so easily overcome?
The whole thing does, in fact, turn out to be rather good for business, as the bar runs out drinks and food without end. Leland is out of fries by ten o’clock. Becks has to empty her tip jar seven times. Kyle helps out behind the bar, but finds himself constantly trapped in exhausting conversations with people who have endless questions for him—serious questions, funny ones, and odd things he didn’t expect to be asked, such as whether he ever tried satisfying his taste for blood with an ultra-rare steak. That last one comes from the manager of the steakhouse, who seems both nervous and excited to ask, perhaps thinking he can secure a customer for life in Kyle. “Hey, we can even stay open until after midnight, you know,” the man insists with a toothy grin as he shakes Kyle’s hand over and over.