Chapter 13Evan
Chapter Thirteen
EVAN
I haven’t left my house yet.
I need to.
But I just can’t make myself do it.
All of last night's events, combined with my not sleeping, have officially caught up to me. I’m a paranoid bitch right now. It’s the worst feeling to feel uncomfortable in your own home. Like someone is watching your every move. I worked so hard to never feel like this again, and I’m pissed as hell that someone is taking that away from me.
I need to go outside and see if the guy from last night left any evidence or indication of what he wanted.
“Come on, Hades. Let’s go outside for a second, okay?” I call for him as I slip on my shoes. Hades has been glued to my side since he felt my anxiety when he woke up.
I scratch his head, and he bounds out in front of me through the backdoor.
One question that hasn’t stopped running through my head while I was tossing and turning all night is: How did someone on a bike get back here without Hades or me even hearing it? That just doesn’t seem possible to me. I mean, yeah, I had rock music playing while I was cooking, but it wasn’t so loud that I wouldn’t have heard a bike pull up. Unless they cut the engine before they hit my drive and pushed it all the way back? I guess that’s always a possibility.
My suspicions are confirmed when I see tire tracks with footprints next to them leading back to the barn. I follow the tracks to the barn's side door. Scratches are on the door and lock like he tried to pick it in a rush. So, the mystery man was trying to break in.
“Well, that’s unsettling,” I say out loud as I stare at the lock like it’s magically going to give me all of the answers I’m looking for.
How does anyone know what’s inside my barn, though? It just doesn’t add up. If you weren’t close to me, there is no way you would even know what I have back here.
A feeling of dread comes over me. Part of me wants to chalk this up as fluke thing, but I have a feeling I may need to involve Cain, which is the last thing I want to do. Staying away from that man is so high up on my list it isn’t even funny.
“Check with Storm first. Then, if nothing comes from that, as a last resort, I’ll see if Cain knows anything,” I tell myself as I head back into the house.
First priority is definitely getting some kind of security system set up out here. I guess I never thought I would need it but here we are.
I seriously need to start questioning my life choices. Storm’s trailer looks like the one from Breaking Bad. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.
Reality starts setting in as I realize just how little I actually know about my “business associate.” I use that term loosely because, well, doesn’t the other person have to actually put money in? I guess Storm is more like my unofficial employee. Maybe I should invest in a beater car for these types of situations. Something that no one can trace back to me. Not that I ever plan on being in a situation like this again, but I probably have “please rob me” stamped on my forehead as I climb out of my Mustang.
“I’ve got a gun!” someone that sounds a lot like a fucked up Storm shouts from behind the trailer door.
“Don’t shoot, you dickhead. It’s Evan.” I still find myself putting my hands up, unsure of what he’s about to do.
“Evan?”
“Yeah, Storm. Evan. You know, your… friend?” I say with a wince. I don’t even know what to call myself to him. That’s how little we talk. A few moments of uncomfortable silence pass, as if he’s trying to remember who I am, before I hear a lock being flipped over, and the door flies open.
Oh my god.
He looks rough.
Rough as in, ‘I drank a bunch of Long Islands, took a Xanax, and don’t remember the night.’ His hair is sticking in every direction, not styled like that on purpose, but from the grease I can see from here. And if the smell I’m getting from 10 feet away is anything to go by, I don’t think he’s showered in a while.
Ugh. Fuck my life. Why can’t anything ever go smoothly anymore?
“Why are you here? How did you find this place?” Storm rushes out before I can even get a word in. His body is wound tight as his left leg bounces up and down, his eyes scanning all over the drive and yard behind me.
Is he for real right now?
I texted him not even two hours ago, asking to meet up. I gave him a bogus story about wanting to talk about having more stuff to move, but really, I just want to feel him out to see if he knows anything about last night.
The impending dread I was feeling earlier is back with a vengeance.
“I texted you a couple of hours ago asking if we could meet up, and you sent me this address. You don’t remember?”
“Oh. Yeah, right. Of course.” He waves me in, his eyes still scanning quickly over the area behind me.
You know that feeling you get when you feel like you’re being watched but don’t see anyone watching you? That’s exactly how I feel right now. The amount of times he’s looked behind me has me turning around and doing a scan before I step inside.
The overwhelming stench that greets my nose has me inhaling sharply.
Holy mother of god. What is that smell? Looking around, trying to find the source but coming up with a million different possibilities of the cause because, let’s be honest here, the place is fucking trashed. Imagine if a hoarder and the dirtiest person you can think of had a baby. That’s what Storm’s place would be.
Does he even know what a trash can is?
I can’t see anything on the countertops because takeout containers are stacked up to the bottom of the cabinets. Random wrappers, papers, dirty clothes, and boxes are scattered all over the floor.
Oh god. Please tell me that isn’t a used condom in the corner.
It’s official.
I’m going to fucking throw up.
“So, uh, how have you been?” I ask, forcing back my gag.
“Oh, you know, the usual. I stay pretty busy with my contacts and the pussy that throws itself at me.” He smirks a yellow-toothed smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
Ugh. Ick. He gives me the fucking ick.
I would have thought being back behind the closed door of his trailer would ease some of his anxiety but his leg is still bouncing. As I scan him up and down, he almost seems more uncomfortable.
Is it because I’m in his personal space? I guess I haven’t ever dropped by like this before. He doesn’t exactly seem like the type to know what your standard social protocols are, considering he didn’t even attempt to clean. This definitely seems deeper than that, though. Now that I’m up close and can really look into his eyes, I notice that he’s high as hell.
“Have you had any issues with the product lately?” I cut straight to the chase. No sense in beating around the bush because I have about 5 good minutes left of breathing this disgusting fucking air. It’s the kind of dirty that makes you want to leave and bathe in bleach.
“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “No, not at all.” If I hadn’t already been focused on Storm, I would have missed how he refused to make eye contact and how his leg bounce seemed to pick up speed.
Well, well, well. I think I have myself a coked-out liar on my hands.
Fucking great.
“So no one has asked about where it’s coming from or anything?” I cock my eyebrow at him.
“No,” Storm gushes out too fast. Suspiciously fast. “Why would they? Weed is weed. People come to me because they don’t want to pay the dispensary prices.”
Holding my hands up, much like I did earlier when this cokehead threatened to shoot me, I say, “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just making sure.” This seems to placate him because the leg bouncing slows slightly. “I was cleaning out the barn, and I found a few extra pounds. I didn’t know if you wanted a little more to work with.”
“Oh, yeah. That’d be great. I’ll stop over later and grab it.” He jumps up from where he’s sitting on the couch, motioning me to the door. Hmm… so quick to have me leave. Suspicious.
There’s not a chance in hell I’m inviting him back over to my place until I figure out what the fuck is going on. “No need. I brought it with me.”
“You brought it with you?” he hisses, quickly moving to peek out the opening in the living room window blinds. They’re closed, but some of the ends have snapped off. If you’ve ever lived in a cheap apartment, you know exactly what type of blinds I’m talking about.
“Are you looking for someone?” I finally ask after a few uncomfortable moments because this is weird. Really fucking weird.
“No. Of course not,” he snaps while heading to the front door.
Obviously, that’s my cue to leave.
Fine by me. I’m going to need to bathe myself in bleach from just standing in this fucking infested place.
“Let me know if you have any issues,” I say as I close my trunk, and we switch bags. I may be stupid for not looking into Storm more before we started anything, but I’m not so stupid that I don’t make him pay me up front first. If I didn’t do that, I’d probably never see any fucking money.
Storm doesn’t meet my eyes as he nods, still looking all over. “You head on home now, Evan.”
I can’t help but feel like something huge is about to happen as I climb into my car and leave.
The real question is what and when?