5. Bay
FIVE
bay
I slept for maybe an hour before Juice’s rendition of “Astronaut in the Ocean” by Our Last Night was, not only being sung by him, but on full fucking blast off his Bluetooth speaker.
I wasn’t much help, as Juice stated. Plus, they had several forklifts lifting the heavy crates onto a freighter, so I wasn’t needed.
However, I made myself useful by texting Travis—who just happens to be Sheriff Muncy’s son—to bring a bunch of burgers, fries, and pops for the boys from the twenty-four-hour diner in town.
Since the shipping yard has three shifts, it’s always busy. Plus, it was nice to have a place to go to at all hours of the day after Levi and I used to pull all-nighters doing stupid shit, then chuckling about it over chili fries.
Receiving a special bag from Travis—a cheeseburger with ketchup, mustard, and extra pickles—he sits next to me on top of a red shipping container as the boys below chow down while they work.
Hot Rod shoves his French fries in the back pocket of his black jeans while he guides Juice on the forklift to stay steady on the pier connected to the ship. And I wish they could be as focused on a conversation as they can moving machinery.
Boys.
“I’m not gonna ask what you guys got going on here, but I am going to say that my dad is sleepin’ right now.” I smile at Travis consistently, being respectful of not prying into all the silly, stupid crap I get into.
But always tell him, anyway.
“Hijacked a truck full of guns that were going to the Forsaken Crew.”
Travis’s head snaps my way, and I can already sense his state of anxiety. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him that. “What?”
I steal a look at him, his curly mahogany brown hair perfectly paired with blueish-green eyes that lock onto me through green-rimmed glasses. I’m his wild friend who can’t chill the hell out—like ever.
“Are you okay?”
I lift my burger still wrapped in waxed paper. “I’m here, aren’t I? Everything’s cool.”
“Yeah, but…were you shot at?”
I shake my head.
Yeah, I recognize that I’m lying. I know that he could go ask Levi, Juice, Hot Rod, or any of the other guys, but he won’t.
He won’t because he trusts me, and as much as I appreciate and honor it, I don’t want Travis to worry about me like Levi does every second of every day. In which, by the time he turns thirty, Levi’s going to be full of gray hairs and wrinkles if he doesn't stop.
“How’s school?” I ask him, changing the subject to something more cheery for him. Travis loves college. He’s a super-smart guy who excels at math and science. Your textbook definition of a nerd but without the acne and big words that he randomly throws in sentences. I don’t need a dictionary when I speak to him, so there’s that. And if I hadn’t known him since first grade, and didn’t make stupid decisions, like date guys who aren’t any good, he’d be the perfect guy for me.
Levi would approve of him, loves him like a brother, could kick his ass any day of the week, and we’ve all known each other forever. Dad thinks he’s great, doesn’t understand more than an eighth of what he says when Travis gets going on but, nonetheless, there wouldn’t be a standoff with a shotgun if he got me home too late.
Trav is one of those guys who didn’t let poverty stricken his positive outlook on life when the world wasn’t so benevolent to him. I’ve been beating boys’ asses since elementary school for bullying him, yet he never got on me about protecting him. He always thanked me, and I looked over him like a mother lion, ready to pounce on anyone who crossed him.
I guess that’s the oldest child in me.
Meanwhile, in him, he’s a confidante for me. Travis has never never judged me for bad decisions and staying longer in a certain relationship that almost destroyed me. Without him, I’m not sure if I would’ve found the strength to leave. His kindness seeped into my skin, and he was a rock that I leaned on with no shame.
“I love it,” he replies with a small smile. “I have a quantum physics class that’s really challenging me right now, but it’s amazing. We’re looking at the quantum field theory, so I’ve been spending a lot of time at the library. Lame, I know, but I like to sit in the corner surrounded by books and just get lost in it.”
“If I couldn’t find you in school, I knew where you were.”
He tucks his chin into his chest with a slightly embarrassed smirk. “Yeah, yeah…I know.”
I give him a little nudge with my arm to tell me more, chewing on my burger as I do, because sometimes he just needs to realize that someone gives a shit. His dad is a complete asshole, wishing he was a star football player, when I don’t think Travis could name an NFL team to save his life.
“It’s fascinating to me,” Travis continues. “I’m going to take a quantum chemistry course next, then there’s still quantum technology and quantum information science that I’d still like to sign up for. There are so many books on it that I have to pick and choose which ones I’m going to take home, because if I don’t, I’d spend all my time in my room and never leave.”
“Now that’s willpower.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, sorry, it’s easy for me to get excited about it.”
“Well, keep going. Just speak slow and use small words for me.”
Travis starts fidgeting with his fingers, hesitant at first because, even though I’ve never made fun of him a day in my life, people aren’t so open to his love of books, mathematics, science, and how he can nerd out quicker than I can burn out. It’s something I’m subtly trying to pull him out of, but it doesn’t help when the fuckheads in South Shore—half of them still living here after graduating—still tease him about whatever stupid ass thing they can.
Shoving my burger in his face, I force him to take a bite, seeking to show and remind him how much of a goofball I am in my own right, before saying, “ Talk, Obi-One Kenobi. Teach me the craziness of science and how I can use all that to become a Jedi.”
His lips curl. “Well, quantum chemistry studies the state of atoms and molecules and their transitions through chemical reactions. Chemists rely heavily on spectroscopy through which they can gain information regarding the quantization of energy on a molecular scale. They use infra-red spectroscopy?—”
“Who uses what now?” Levi asks behind us, his boot thudding against the metal top of the shipping container as he makes his way toward us.
“We were talkin’ about quantum chemistry,” I answer, tearing my burger in half and handing the other half to Travis. “I was learning about atoms and molecules and shit.”
Levi takes a seat next to Travis and opens the small white bag he brought him. “Yeah, I paid a kid to do all my science homework.” He glances over at Travis. “Oh, wait, that kid was you.”
“And you fucking aced the class, moron,” I chide lightly off a chuckle. “You were supposed to make it look believable .”
“Why?” Levi challenges back. “I wanted to date this hot science chick in my physics class. She got wet when you talked about space and time and shit.”
“Miranda?” Travis asks.
Levi nods. “Yeah.”
“She never spoke about you,” Travis professes matter-of-factly as he chews. “She thought you were a gearhead without half a brain in your head.”
Levi gapes at him while I throw my head back in laughter. “I am a fuckin’ gearhead with about three-quarters of a brain in my head.” He smacks Travis’s bicep. “Why didn’t you hype me up, man?”
“I did. She still didn’t buy it.”
Levi scoffs, shoving a handful of fries in his mouth like a child. “That’s bullshit, dude.”
“Relax, killer. We graduated high school, like, three years ago,” I emit as I chew. “Don’t tell us you’re still thinking about it?”
“It’s a fail.”
“It was high school.”
Levi nudges Travis, clearly still on it and cocky enough to think it isn’t true. “So, like, nothing?”
His wounded male pride only makes me laugh harder, the muscles in my stomach not used to working like this as a fry is thrown at my chest.
“Nothing,” Travis concedes.
My best friend grunts. “Whatever, man. Keep talkin’ about whatever you were talkin’ about. Maybe I can gain the quarter of my brain I’m missin’.”
“I’m not sure I could use that small of words for you to understand.” Another burst of uncontrollable chortling fills my throat as Travis joins me at the expense of the muscled and tattooed man on our shipping container who could nail any chick this side of the Mississippi.
“You’re both fuckin’ assholes,” Levi grumbles, cramming more crinkle fries in his mouth and overlooking the boys doing their thing. “I don’t even know why I came up here.”
“We don’t either,” I add on, causing Travis to begin choking on his burger at his continued laughing. I pat his back as Levi glares in our direction.
“He’s not as nice as he seems, Bay,” my best friend grumbles with a glower. “He’s choking because it’s karma.”
“He’s choking because the shit’s funny.”
“I feel slightly betrayed by you, Travis. I thought you’d have my back and—” A loud popping and crackling of what sounds to be fireworks slices through the rest of Levi’s heartfelt comment and he’s immediately put into war mode. “Shit, the fucking Forsaken Crew is back.”
“ What ?” My heart slams into my chest, thrown off by the new arrival and into my peace as Levi’s already pushing himself back by the bottom of his heels.
“Fall back,” he roars out to his men below, then mutters sourly, “Motherfucker…”
“What’s going on?” Travis solicits, and he can’t hide the tremble in his voice.
And I can’t stop the anxiety coursing through every nerve ending in my body.
“Torin fucking Wildes is down there.”
My whole body suddenly freezes, and I don’t know when or what triggers in my brain to finally move, but I instinctively grab Travis’s hand and scoot backward, getting us into the center of the shipping container and away from any stray bullets. “Get on your stomach.”
Levi spews out another string of curses under his breath, standing along the edge of the metal box like Batman, about to swoop down and take out the crime in Gotham.
Except this is South Shore, always at war with our northern rivals.
And I don’t want to come face-to-face with Torin Wildes again. I’ve seen what he can do. I’ve experienced how angry he can become. I know how fixated he can become on something or someone.
I just can’t.
“Levi,” I whisper-yell. “How the hell are they back here?”
“Must’ve taken out the scouts,” he leers back at me over his shoulder. “I had three guys out there.”
Oh my God, fuck.
“Should I get Bay home?” Travis asks, reaching for my hand, and I’m not sure if it’s for his sole benefit or both of ours, but I appreciate it, anyway.
Levi shakes his head, getting to his haunches. “Stay here, don’t move. Don’t say a fucking word, Travis, you hear me? You keep her here. No one is going to be looking for you this high up.”
A few shouts of what sounds like Juice shouting fills my ears and my focus slices to the edge of the container where we were just sitting. It echoes like a mess out there, guns going off every few seconds, orders being yelled out, my nerves pricking at my skin because my friends are down there.
“If you don’t hear me announce myself before coming back up here,” Levi continues. “It means it’s not me.” A Glock shows up in front of Travis. “Shoot the fucker.”
“Lev…I don’t know?—”
“Just aim.” Levi begins to slowly push himself back to the side of the container to get off. “You got this. It’s time and space and shit.”
I roll my eyes because that’s not helpful, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Travis hold a gun in my life.
Grabbing the weapon, I try to ease back Travis’s fear of having to protect me and the guilt that I feel for bringing him down here in the first place. Especially since we’re sitting ducks with a bunch of illegal guns that weren’t ours to begin with.
“I got us, Trav,” I tell him softly as Levi disappears. “Don’t worry.”
He steers his frightened expression at me. “Bay…what if they saw us?”
“They didn’t.” I squeeze his hand as if doing so will make it that way. “Levi hasn’t shot anyone yet. No close-range rings or pops.” He nods and tucks his head into his folded arms that are resting underneath him. “I’m sorry for bringing you out here. I thought…I didn’t think?—”
“It’s not your fault,” Travis mutters into his sweatshirt. “I’m okay.”
Except he can’t hide his frame from shaking at being surrounded by two rival gangs that will do anything to gain what they want.
This right here, stealing from each other, is a common occurrence. The Forsaken Crew know damn well not to try to pull their supply through South Shore’s ports but they do it anyway.
And Travis doesn’t deal with shit like this.
He’s my outside source that keeps me safe when I need it. When we’re out racing around town, looking for a pink slip to take from somebody, he lets me know if his dad got a call for a disturbance. If we’re out runnin’ dope and Sheriff Muncy is roaming the streets in his patrol car, I always know where he’s sitting.
Travis might be book smart, but he’s also learned all the cop lingo, has radio on when I’m out doing shit I shouldn’t be, and has been on lock with being protected by us.
“We’re okay up here,” I profess gently. “I promise.”
“Tell me something… anything .”
“Umm…” I quickly search my brain for anything clever to say, but promptly fall short. “Dad’s got Ellie and Mae kicking his ass in Connect Four. They don’t understand how to let him win so he doesn’t get irritated that he can’t beat a twelve and eight-year-old.”
“Maybe you should have them play Juice and start building their college fund.”
I smile. “That’s not a bad idea. We should make a night out of it. Wanna come over for pizza? I’ll set the day up.”
“Yeah…that would be great.” Bullets hit the metal of the shipping container we’re on and Travis jolts.
Out of comfort, I mindlessly wrap my arm around his back and snuggle closer to him. “Remember that asshole Frank McGritty? He was messin’ with you in seventh grade, and we glued his ass to his seat.”
Travis nods. “Yeah. He got so pissed, he shot up and took the whole desk with him. He sucked.”
“You and I said we didn’t like it here anymore and that we wanted to leave South Shore.”
He snakes his head around and looks at me, our faces but inches from each other. “Where would you go, Bay? If you had the choice…to leave right now.”
“Somewhere with a beach. And sun. No Forsaken Crew or The Nameless. Just us living a really boring life.”
“Boring is good.” He bobs his head through the continued gunshots below and whispers, “I like boring.”
“One day.”
“Promise?”
“Anywhere you want. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t promise yourself to someone, Wildfire,” a voice leers suddenly from behind us. “Especially when I told you that one day…you were going to be mine.”