Chapter 9 #2
Joe examines it and nods. “First time I’ve seen someone looking good in one of these photos. Alright, then. I guess we can do business, Big-City Owen. What are you in the mood for?”
“Two ounces of weed for starters.”
“For starters?”
“I’ll see how it goes before we take this further.”
“Alright. One eighty for two ounces.”
Owen crosses his arms, feeling in character. “Sounds like you’re trying to take me for a ride, Small-Town Joe. Do I look rich to you?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Well, I’m not. One fifty.”
Joe sighs. “You city boys drive a hard bargain, but I’ll roll with you this time. Wait here. I’ll give you a taste so you don’t think I’m selling you grass.”
Owen frowns as Joe walks inside. A taste? He doesn’t want to smoke whatever he’s buying. He’s supposed to be clean. Even though he’s hours away from seeing his aunt again, he worries she’ll find out.
Joe returns holding a rolled joint.
“I wasn’t planning on smoking now. I need to get to work after this, and—”
“Don’t ever buy something you don’t know the quality of. Some people here will sell you shit. You’re lucky you came to me.” Joe hands the joint to Owen, who takes it with a shaky hand. Before he can decide what to do, Joe pulls out a lighter.
Owen reminds himself that he’s here to help people, and for that he has to play along. He sighs and puts the joint between his dry lips. Joe smiles as he lights the joint.
“What do you think?”
“It’s okay, but I had better.”
“I have stronger things.”
“I’m sure, but this is fine.” He should just ask for the two ounces and finish this deal, but he likes the feel of the joint between his fingers and the smoke inside his lungs. There’s a nice breeze that makes the tip of his hair dance. He takes another puff and exhales a perfect circle of smoke.
“Look at that! He can do party tricks.”
Owen chuckles. “I can’t believe I’m smoking this on the street.”
“Yeah, believe it. If anyone around here sees you, they’ll just ask you for some.”
“Do you want some?”
“Damn right I do.” Joe takes the joint and inhales. He tries to create a circle of smoke, but it comes out like a smudge, making him and Owen laugh. “You have to teach me the trick, man! My girlfriends would love it.”
“Girlfriends? How many do you have?”
“Not enough and way too many.”
Owen tries to teach Joe the trick, and before he realizes, they’ve smoked most of the joint. Although this stuff is not strong, there’s enough of it in Owen’s system to make his brain floaty. He almost forgets that Nate is waiting for him.
“I got it!” Joe calls. It’s not a perfect circle, but it’s an improvement.
“You’re a natural.”
Joe beams and pulls out a small bag. “Two ounces for one hundred bucks.”
“We said—”
“Yeah, but now I like you, Big-City Owen.”
“Thanks.” They exchange the money for the bag.
“How are you getting back to Van Buren?”
“What? Oh, I parked far from here—got the streets wrong. Hmm, I’ll see you next time, I suppose.”
“Either me or my brother. I’ll let him know a dude from the big city might stop by with some smoke tricks.”
Owen smiles. “You do that, Small-Town Joe. See you around.”
It takes him almost ten minutes to find Nate’s car, but since he’s high, his perspective of time might be slightly off.
“Man, I thought you forgot about me,” Nate says once Owen slips into the passenger seat.
“It took a bit longer than expected, but I got it for one hundred.”
“Yeah, you also got high.” Nate laughs. “You can’t stop smiling!”
“What? I’m not smiling.”
“Tell that to your mouth.” Nate starts the car. “If Sheryl catches you—”
“She’d kill me.”
“Yep, so you better not tell her, and neither will I. There’s a barber shop on Main Street called Town Square Cuts. Behind the shop you’ll find a great place to sit and chill. It closes at six, and no one will bother you there.”
“I’m not planning on making getting high a regular thing.”
“Hey, I’m just giving you the lay of the land. Show me what you’ve got.”
Owen pulls out the bag from his pocket and hands it to Nate. There are two small nylon bags inside. Nate hands one back to Owen. “Here.”
“I can’t take it. It’s evidence.”
“Evidence? This ain’t Law and Order. Throw it away later if you want.”
Owen will probably do just that, but he still takes the small bag and slips it into his pocket. He fills Nate in on his conversation with Joe as they drive back to Van Buren, and Nate seems pleased.
“That’s exactly how you do it. You make them like you, then trust you, and then they’ll want to work with you. You did great, buddy. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” He feels proud of himself, too.
*
“I’m not sure about that,” Francie says as she’s arranging her big, purple bag to leave. “The library is a place for peace and quiet, not social events.”
“A book club is meant to celebrate reading and encourage more people to read. I’m not talking about putting balloons around. The guests can bring their own snacks.”
“Eating in the library is prohibited, as you should know since you have read the manual—right?”
“Hmm, sure. But we’ll have them sitting only at the front—no harm will come to any defenseless book. Let me make some signs and hang them around town. We’ll choose a book that’s been popular for a while.”
“We will also need to make sure we have enough copies.”
Owen nods and crosses his arms. He hadn’t thought about that. “Can we order more books? Like a temporary loan?”
“A loan by definition is temporary.”
He sighs. “Francie, please. I have a good feeling about this.”
She gives him a stern look through her big glasses. “You’ll do this event during your shift. When I come to work the following day, I don’t want to see any damage or graffiti on the walls.”
“Jesus, it’s not a book club for bikers.”
“I should hope so. Choose a book and write me the name. I’ll get ten copies delivered here.”
“Amazing!”
The few people in the library shush him, as if they’re allergic to sound.
Owen spends most of his shift creating posters for his book club. There’s enough paper and colors for him to use, though he’ll make bigger versions once he buys more supplies. For the first book club meeting, he chooses a book that is relatively popular, hoping it will attract more people.
It’s hard to believe that just this morning, he was doing undercover work for the police and getting high in the process. He feels fine now, his body more than capable of withstanding a bit of weed. Nate told him they should wait a few days before returning to buy more.
As he sketches and occasionally serves the customers, he can’t help but glance at the front door every once in a while, hoping to see a specific someone walking in.
It’s too soon for Will’s sister to have finished all three books, but Owen still wishes to be pleasantly surprised by Will’s appearance.
He could try calling his house, but they only went out yesterday evening, and he doesn’t want to come off as clingy.
The hours pass by quickly. When it’s time to close, Owen slips his sketches into his backpack, then goes over the process of locking up the library.
It’s dark by the time he leaves, and the area is quiet except for a few people walking around.
He rubs his stomach, deciding it’s time for dinner.
Since there’s only one place where he might come across a certain someone, he heads off to Rodie’s.
Unfortunately, Will is nowhere to be seen when he steps inside. The music is loud as usual, and the large space is packed with people.
“Yo, Owen!” Bradley waves him over. He always manages to get the same table right at the center, like he brought it with him from home. He’s sitting with Esteban, and there are two glasses of beer between them. Owen walks over to join them, placing his backpack on the floor.
“You came from work?” Bradley asks.
“Yep. Did you guys eat already, or are you waiting for Will?” He hopes the question came out innocent.
“Not sure if he’ll show up,” Bradley says. “It’s hard to know with him these days. I’ll be heading home soon—my wife is making lasagna.”
Esteban whistles. “Oh no.”
Bradley sighs and tells Owen, “My wife—God bless her—is the worst cook in all of Carter County. Now that she’s about to give birth, her taste buds are worse than usual. It’s brutal.”
Esteban puts his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”
“I am, aren’t I? Anyway, Esteban also has dinner waiting at home, so you’re on your own, man. Best go order at the bar ’cause they’re short on staff tonight. It took us twenty minutes to order drinks.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.” He walks over to the bar, debating what to order.
Maybe BBQ ribs? Fish and chips? The food here is great, even though they can afford to cut corners with how few competitors they have in town.
Owen leans on the counter with his elbows, waiting for Bill to come over once he’s done making drinks.
A country song is playing in the background; the singer’s voice is nice and deep, reminding Owen of another voice he heard singing recently.
“Hi, newcomer,” Bill says. “What will it be?”
“I’ll go with the fish and chips.”
“Make that two.”
Owen spins around, his heart beating faster. “Oh, hi. Didn’t see you.”
“Just got here.” Will tells Bill, “Add a pint of Bud Light.”
“Alright. Someone will bring it to your table. I’m short one waitress tonight, so it might take a bit longer.”
“That’s fine,” Owen says. When he’s alone with Will—as much as one can be alone in a crowded bar—he says, “I was hoping to see you.”
That feels more like a thought than something I should have said.
Will raises an eyebrow. “Did you?”
“Well, you know. I had fun yesterday. Oh, wait. You’re not flannel. Is everything okay?”
Will laughs. “I have other shirts.”
He’s wearing a black polo that sits perfectly around his broad shoulders and muscular chest.
“How was your day?” Owen asks. They should probably go sit with the other two, but then the conversation won’t be private.