Jason
Of all the shitholes I’ve lived in throughout my weird life, Belmont takes the cake. The bus rolls into the parking lot of the old shopping complex that’s now completely boarded up. I sat right above the damn engine the whole three hours it took to get here, and I feel like I might yak.
Or maybe that’s just because I'm back here in this place.
Belmont was always…grey.
Well, at least the Patch was.
Still is.
I haven’t been here in years. This place was run-down before, but it’s even worse now.
To my right is a fence that’s half-fallen over, with a row of houses about ready to collapse sitting on the other side.
To my left is the shopping center, and I’ll eat my sneakers if someone isn’t cooking meth in one of the abandoned shops.
The windows are boarded up, and the wood is covered in graffiti.
HellCats. That’s what’s painted all over the boarded-up shopping complex.
When I was a kid, everyone used to talk about the HellCats. They ran the show in the Patch.
I wonder if they still do?
Maybe they need another member? I need money, so criminal activity might be my best bet.
I don’t want to live in a trailer with Gabe for very long, but I need money to move out.
Which is a conundrum when you’re me: dumber than a sack of shit, with no skill in the world other than drinking and fighting.
I should be on reality TV.
Until then, I’ve got other ways to make some cash, but they’re unreliable at best.
When I really need some dough, I use my fake ID to get into bars and bet guys I can kick their ass. There’s always some meathead who takes me up on it, thinking they’re in for an easy buck. Then I leave with their money and their pride. Ha!
The bus stops, and passengers start getting off.
My eyes trail to the group of people outside waiting and land on Doug and his wife, Lizzie Borden. I mean Linda.
Fuck me.
She looks so eager—bouncing on the balls of her feet and wringing her hands.
Doug looks… like Doug. Annoyed.
Annoyed that I exist.
The nerves I’ve felt on the way here sink to the pit of my stomach, weighing me down like an anchor.
I forgot what it was like to be around Sergeant Shithead. Doug Mathers is the only man who ever scared me. The military programmed him to be an inflexible dick with sky-high expectations, and he was not prepared for a kid like me.
I could never do anything right.
As I walk off the bus, I lock eyes with Doug.
His face is like stone—it's been almost two years since he last saw me, and I don’t even get a smile.
I wish it didn’t hurt.
Whatever.
Not here to play house. I’m here to get a job and get out.
Linda, on the other hand, looks like an excited puppy, waving at me and yelling, “Jason! Over here.”
Ugh.
With my duffel in hand, I stomp to where they’re standing, and my breath hitches.
Linda pulls me in for a big bear hug, and something shoots through my stomach when she does—like the whooshing feeling you get on a rollercoaster.
Linda holds my face, her eyes glistening, and says, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
My heart races a mile a minute.
It reminds me of how it used to feel.
Me. Gabe. His mom making us snacks.
I swallow the lump in my throat and clench my jaw.
She’s trying to throw me off my game with this little Stepmom-of-the-Year bullshit, and I won’t let her. “Thanks,” I reply in a flat tone.
Doug hasn’t approached. He stands there, looking at me.
The two of us are in a standoff, waiting for the other to make a move.
I ignore the aching feeling in my gut and lock eyes with him. If this is round one, then I’m winning. Period.
Linda pushes him forward to greet me, and the sudden movement literally makes me flinch.
Pathetic.
He stands there, awkwardly, then pats my back like I’m a dog and says, “It’s good to see you, Jason.”
The way he says it…
I almost believe it. Almost. “Mmhmm” is all I give him.
I don’t buy it. This man was meaner than a snake and said not one word after I left. If he wants me to say, “Wow, so good to see you, Pop!” Then he'd better not hold his breath.
Linda clears her throat. “Well. Let’s get you home. I’m sure Gabe will be happy to see you.”
I bark out a laugh without even meaning to.
“You think so, huh?” I ask with a brow raised.
Doug grumbles, and Linda looks sad, and I hate that my stomach twists with guilt because of it.
“I think it’ll be good,” Linda says. “No. I know it will.”
We’ll see about that, lady.