Paradox (A New Paradigm #1)
1. CHAPTER 1
T he beets.
I just had to get the fucking beets.
It doesn’t work. I’ve never really had much of a way with words.
Climbing into the back, I slap the canopy for being in the way of my head and haul the sack of sweet potatoes on top of the regular potatoes. Then drag the beets on top of the carrots.
After closing the tailgate, my foot is on the accelerator before I allow myself a second to stop and think. The engine sputters, but I just push her harder. She can handle it. She’s stronger than I am.
I eye the I-5 exit sign, contemplating whether or not I should skip my last stop and make up some time.
I never turn my truck, though, because if one rash decision is crazy, then two is straight up moronic. The wilderness of the Pacific Northwest might be calling me right now, but she's also an unforgiving bitch this time of year. And I refuse to be caught without the right supplies.
With one hand on the wheel, I take my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants and toss it to my right.
The damn thing hasn’t stopped buzzing since I left the shop.
I know Reeze wouldn’t be stupid enough to call after I dumped all his shit out on the street and left him with a broken nose, so it must be Shawn.
Scratch that. I know it’s Shawn. Just like I know I’d get the performance of a lifetime if I answered.
Pulling into the parking lot of Albertsons Liquor, I break so late that something crashes against the back cab window. Refusing to look, I grab my phone out of habit, and head to the back of my truck to open the tailgate in preparation for my next haul.
If there was a Guinness world record for how quickly you can load six cases of beer onto a liquor cart, I’d have just broken it.
“How come I wasn’t invited?”
“Ha? Oh, hey Austin.” I nod, never attempting to cover my attitude.
“You having a party?”
“No.” I don’t look at him. I’m too distracted by the full size bars of chocolate by the register. I’d managed to resist their temptation at the dry goods store, but it turns out I was a much stronger man thirty minutes ago.
“Are you on your period, dude?”
Looking up from the armful of chocolate I just dumped on the register, I glare at him. “That’s fucking offensive.”
“Come on, man. I was only—”
“Imagine hormones forcing your body to tear away at one of its internal organs once a month—every month—for thirty years. Then, on top of that, you have men on your back accusing you of being too hysterical or bitchy. Then, at the end of the day, they have the audacity to treat themselves, only to get shit on all over again for eating a bar of fucking chocolate!”
“Dude, it was a fucking joke.”
“Cool.” I shrug, my temper calming at a psychopathic rate. “Then you won’t mind me joking with the boys about how your dick goes hella crooked when you get hard.”
“Screw you. That’s not the same thing.”
“It’s the exact same thing… I’ll have two cartons of Camel Filters.”
“Anything else?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, actually. Can I get all the matches?”
As Austin reaches behind him, he eyes my phone as it lights up again. “What d’ya need this many matches for?”
“To burn this place down.”
“Just promise you’ll wait till I clock off… Is this enough?” I look down at the eight boxes of matches. “There are more out the back, but it’ll take me a minute to find them.”
“It’s fine, don’t bother. I just need the smokes then I'll be out of your hair.”
“I thought you quit these years ago, man?”
“Goddamnit, Austin. This is exactly why I wouldn’t invite you if I was having a party.”
“There’s no need to be a jerk.”
“And there’s no need for you to ask so many fucking questions.”
“I thought we were cool?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and dig my fingernails in as I sigh. “We are cool. I just need to get the hell out of here. So if you could please just hurry up.”
The next time my phone buzzes on the register, I shut my eyes and focus on the beep beep beep of the scanner as Austin bags up my impulse control problem.
“Did you and Tek have a fight, or something?”
“Ha?”
Austin nods towards my phone. “He’s calling you.”
“Fuck…Here, just take what you need,” I tell Austin, leaving him my wallet to wander aimlessly around the liquor store while I take the call so I don’t pull my hair out. “What is it?”
“This is a different level of psychotic. Even for you.” Tek's voice is just as hostile as I expected it to be.
“You’re lucky I didn’t break his neck.” I answer him with just as much spite.
“And then I’d break yours because we’d lose everything we’ve built.”
“What did you expect me to do?”
“Not to put us in tens of thousands of dollars in debt because you can’t control yourself.”
“Fuck you.”
“You kicked over Reeze's bike and stomped in Shawn’s windscreen.”
“You forgot how I tossed his entire kit into oncoming traffic.”
“This isn’t funny, Eden.”
“So shoot me, then. Put me out of my misery.”
“Don’t start that bullshit again. Put on your big boy pants and deal with this like an adult.”
“Screw that. We opened the shop because we didn’t wanna grow up.”
“No. You co-signed the business loan because you didn’t want to grow up. But tattooing for a living doesn’t make you Peter–fucking–Pan.”
I pull the phone away from my ear to check the time. “Tik–tok Tek. I've gotta go."
“You need to apologize.”
“The pair of them can fuck off the whole way to the moon together.”
“Eden.”
“Five years, Tek.”
“You don’t need to tell me how fucked up it is. I’m just as pissed as you are, but I won’t lose this place.”
“So take it then. I’ll sign my half over to you as soon as I get back.”
Tek sighs so deeply it knocks the air out of my lungs, too. “Where the hell are you going?”
“I guess we aren’t that close after all.”
“You’ll be snowed in by the end of the week.”
“That’s the point.”
“I can’t run this place on my own, Eden. Especially now that Reeze is gone.”
“You said it yourself. It won't be long until there’s that much snow, nobody's gonna want a fucking tattoo.”
“That’s not the point.”
I know it's not the point. In the course of one morning Teken Ink has gone from three full time artists and an admin, to being a sole trader with a potential lawsuit on its hands.
I should care because Wootek and I built the place from nothing, and only six years later we're one of the busiest shops in northern Washington, but right now, none of that matters.
Our little family was torn apart by two backstabbers and, right now, I couldn't give a flying fuck about anyone or anything. “I’m not coming back.”
“You’re such a selfish prick.”
“His dick was in her mouth.”
“And I never wanna see either of their faces again. But you have responsibilities.”
“You’re not helping yourself.”
“Just get the fuck back here, Eden.”
“I’ve gotta go. I need to fill up Betty.”
“You know that old pile of junk won’t start back up when the snow thaws.”
“A blessing in disguise.”
“Please don’t do this, Eden.”
It brings me no joy to leave Tek like this, but I just can’t be in this godforsaken town any longer. In the shop, on my bike, at the bar, her shit will follow me everywhere I go. “I just can’t stay here, Tek. I… Things will only get worse.”
The silence that stretches through the radio waves connecting us, is deafening. It rings in my ears like the aftershock hum of standing too close to the speakers at a concert, but I won’t fill it. I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything.
“Can you please think about it a little longer before just abandoning me?”
“Nothing's gonna change my mind.”
Accepting defeat, Tek agrees with me. “I know, just… Be safe, please. I don’t need to find my best friend frozen to death in three months.”
“It hurts that you have so little faith in me,” I smirk into the phone.
“I’m serious. You’ve never spent that long out there. And never at this time of year.”
“Can you promise me you’ll call Carey?”
“I’m not calling your brother.”
“He’s back from Indonesia with nothing to do but complain about how much he hates it here. So throw him a few bucks and put him to work.”
“Thanks, but I’m certain I can handle it better on my own.”
“Now who's the one that won’t grow up?”
“I’m not working with your brother.”
“I’ll call him then. See you in March.”