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)
Kyle takes hold of Brock’s hands suddenly, startling him. “I need to get out there. I need to go to the Scarlet Sands.”
Brock appears distracted by the hand holding. “H-Huh?”
“I need to find Elias.”
“Wait. You actually know him?”
“He’s my friend I mentioned. He was living with me, here in this house. I think he was trying to get away from his family, but … but they found him, they found him and took him back. He left me a note. Brock, I think he’s in trouble.”
“Wait, slow down.”
“That’s his coffee table you got your foot on.”
Brock apparently didn’t realize he propped a foot up on it. He drops it to the floor, then squints at the table and the teak-colored lamp. “You’re friends with … with the boss lady’s son? But how? Why would he step foot in this shithole of a town?”
“Do you know where that casino is? I’ll drive.” Kyle gets to his feet. “Where’d you leave your keys, Brock?”
“Wait, wait, wait, you mean now??” Brock blinks rapidly. “You wanna drive out to Vegas right the fuck now?”
“It’s just a couple hours away. It’ll still be dark by the time we arrive.”
“I … I didn’t say we—Didn’t you hear—?” Brock sputters in disbelief. “You can’t just show up at the Scarlet Sands.”
“Why not? You just said your dad has a permanent suite. That’s our excuse. You. You are the excuse.” Kyle speeds to the kitchen to grab his wallet, then heads to the other room. “You owe me this! Ah, here they are.” He returns from the laundry room with Brock’s keys. “I don’t have a car. We’ll take yours.”
“Dude, we can’t just—”
“Or you can stay here,” offers Kyle. “I’ll just wing it if I have to, figure out something else. Hide out around the other casinos until I find Elias. Either with or without you, I’m going to Vegas tonight.”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy.”
Kyle comes right up to Brock, crouches in front of him. “When it comes to the ones I love, I am crazy. I’m really, really fucking crazy.”
Brock’s eyes detach, mouth agape. “You … love this guy?”
Kyle stares back.
He finds himself stunned.
Does he love Elias? Is that what this is about? Racing to reclaim the only person he has left in the world of any true and lasting value?
“I am your oasis,” decides Kyle.
Brock lifts an eyebrow. “You’re my what?”
“That’s why you came here. That’s why you felt safe, to talk to me, to open up. That’s why you kissed me. To get away from yourself. I’m your oasis, the place that saves your life in a stretch of misery and suffering that is the desert.”
“Are you callin’ my wife and child a stretch of misery and sufferin’?”
“Now I’m asking you to be … my camel.” Kyle grabs Brock by the shoulders, brings his face close. “I need to get to Vegas. I need to save Elias. He’s stranded out there, a slave to the desert and the misery and the suffering. I have to save him. No one … No one else … cares about him.” Kyle’s gaze drops to Brock’s chest as he hears Elias’s words replay in his mind. “Everyone makes him feel like a problem, just trouble, something to deal with. He was happy when he was here, with me, together. I have to save him, Brock. He … is my oasis. He is the reason I’m still alive. Literally. And yes,” he decides right then. “Yes, I love him. I love Elias Asad Trujillo.”
Brock is in a daze as he gazes back into Kyle’s eyes. It isn’t clear whether any of this overcomplicated metaphor is reaching Brock at all.
Until his eyes begin burning with tears welling in them. “I really did it all wrong, didn’t I? My whole life, did it all wrong.”
Kyle doesn’t have time for this. “Brock …”
“Do you ever … ever wish …” He takes hold of Kyle’s shirt suddenly, tugging on it, bringing their faces closer. “You ever wish you could go back … all the way back to the beginning? Do it all different?” He lets go of Kyle’s shirt and falls back on the couch, mouth slackened. “I’m such a piece of shit, Kyle. I’m sorry I did that, forcin’ myself on you, kissin’ you, whatever you said I did. I … I don’t deserve to be your camel.” He lets out a groan, closes his eyes. “Get me another beer, would you?”
“No.”
A tear runs down Brock’s cheek. He scowls. “Beer …”
Kyle sits on the coffee table across from Brock. Despite all of his urgency, he sets aside his mission and gazes at his friend, at Brock, the boy he grew up with from the other side of their weatherworn Texas town, his teammate and once confidant.
“Listen to me,” says Kyle. “I know that might be an unfair thing to ask of you, present blood alcohol level considered, but listen. I know things feel like a mess. Your life. Jessica. Choices you’ve made these past few decades. But it’s never too late to change. To do better. Whether you’re forty. Fifty. Eighty. You still have time on this earth, Brock. Your son depends on you.”