2. Riot
Riot
M y five a.m. alarm felt like a cruel joke. I silenced it, wondering when had been the last time I’d slept in?
Probably before the weight of my life’s greatest mistake weighed me down every night.
I cursed the little prick of a police deputy, Jeremy Blackwell, for giving me the earliest community service assignments.
Thankfully, I didn’t mind today’s work. I liked groundskeeping.
It offered immediate gratification, and I found the rhythm of mowing, edging, and trimming soothing.
I’d picked up a few side jobs for a local landscaping business earlier this spring to make some extra money.
That is, until one of the customers found out I was the one pruning their roses and had me fired. Fucking Cherry Mitchell .
I pulled on my work clothes and emerged from my bedroom like a baby bird hatching into the world.
Only I was hatching into my large, luxurious double-wide park model.
As I brushed my teeth, I was once again confused by the stranger staring back at me in the mirror.
My beard grew unrecognizably long. It was scraggly and unkempt, and made me appear crazier than everyone thought I was.
But Katie told me not to shave, so I suppose I kept it overgrown as some show of disobedience.
Katie, my great redeemer.
I sighed, splashing water on my face. A few years back, I found myself on the wrong end of an inmate fight and I cracked my chin open.
Medical wasn’t top of the line and the stitches had been a pretty gnarly chop job.
I shaved when I got home, happy to have a real razor and shave gel for the first time in a decade.
But Katie told me I needed to keep a beard to cover the scar.
“It would be one thing if it were somewhere you could cover up, but Ry, if you don’t hide it, the evidence of your past is literally all over your face. Anytime someone looks at you, they'll see the scar and think‘prison’.”
Katie made me her pet project since the day I got home, showing up on my doorstep with a basket of muffins.
I appreciated it, even though it gave me a false sense of how the town would receive me.
She secured me a job at her dad’s auto body shop that paid well, and the guys didn’t treat me like a convict, so I’d been grateful.
Part of me suspected it might be her way of living out some buried high school fantasy. She’d had a crush on me but, at the risk of sounding like an asshole, a lot of girls had. I only had one love back then, and that was football.
But now I had nothing and although I found her overbearing, I’m ashamed to admit I was happy for the attention. Katie was kind and pretty, but even after everything she’d done for me, she didn’t stir anything emotional or otherwise inside me except gratitude.
And that was saying something, considering I hadn’t been with a woman in almost twelve years now.
I considered throwing a pot of coffee on, but decided against it, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade instead. Downing the sugary drink, I gazed across the sprawling landscape of my backyard. It had been in my father’s family for generations.
And then I fucked it all up.
The church offered to buy it and lease it back to us so it wouldn’t go to the land bank . I still held hope of buying it back, but, quite literally, only God knew how much they’d ask for.
The land extended beyond eyesight. My double-wide was supposed to have been temporary. My brother Brennan laid out plans for a nice sprawling farmhouse, but the money ran out before he finished the drawings .
I loved my brother, but I couldn’t live with him and his quirks. So, I made him a deal… if he laid out the plans for a small one-bedroom, I’d build it. It would be the same cost as another manufactured home, and I knew he’d like it better if it were up to his very high standards of specifications.
And God bless him, did he lay out those plans.
It stood like an adult treehouse and pride bloomed within me.
I had no experience as a carpenter, but I spent the last ten years working with my hands and all kinds of tools, so it wasn’t hard to pick up.
Especially with the building plans Brennan drew.
I mean, down to the exact directions.
Ensure the circular saw is connected to power.
He priced out lumber, plumbing, electric, all of it. Down to the goddamn shelf that the materials were found on.
Home Depot Store 4802- Aisle 27 Bay 005.
Yes, he was fucking brilliant, but he was also trying.
Still, it was nice to work with my big brother on something tangible that served as evidence we’d built something together.
I gazed at my watch. 5:23 a.m. Shit.
I hopped in my truck and pulled into the back of the library right as the clock struck 5:30.
“Asher,”Mr. Meaney regarded me.
“Mr. Meaney,” I said.
His eyes were flat.“You can call me Kevin, now, Riot. I’m not your wood shop teacher anymore.”
I nodded. He led me to the enclosed trailer. Riding lawn mower, edger, pruning shears. The job was straightforward. Upkeep the grounds around the library. Serve the community.
“Not just the bushes you have to prune.”Mr. Meaney gave me a knowing nod before swiveling his eyes to the entrance of the library where I spotted movement.
He walked over, tilting his head for me to follow him .
“Up and at ’em! Look alive!”He barked and started clapping. I peered around him to see a young man, maybe a few years younger than me, strung out in the overhang of the library entrance.
The boy opened his bleary eyes as if he didn’t know where he was. I was once again struck by how rampant the drug problem had become during my time away.
“Sorry, son.”Mr. Meaney helped him to his feet, grabbing him around the upper part of his arm, which was littered with track marks.“Library is closed and there’s no loitering. The Center is open 24/7. You know that.”
A pang of pity cut through me, watching him stumble away.
Mr. Meaney gave me a quick rundown before leaving, and I went to work.
After finishing in the back, I was drenched with sweat. I wiped my face with the bottom of my grass-stained shirt, hauling all the materials to the front.
Shit. I pulled up short, spotting a parked car. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I noticed someone passed out in the driver’s seat. Double shit.
As I got closer, I cleared my throat and dragged the edger against the pavement, hoping the driver would wake up and take off before I had to play bouncer at the local library. But no such luck. A head of long blonde hair pressed against the window.
A woman. Great .
I could get along with the men in town. Their disposition remained impassive, disinterested.
They left me alone for the most part and weren’t afraid to pass me in the grocery store.
If engagement was unavoidable, they’d ask me about football scores and I’d ask how they thought the Steelers were primed for the upcoming season, cautiously steering the conversation into comfortable small talk.
Women, by contrast (save Katie), regarded me as if I were wearing a necklace made of puppy skulls and children’s teeth. They crossed the street when they noticed me coming. They avoided the grocery aisle I stood in, and they certainly never engaged in small talk.
For the most part, at least. A handful of busybodies would ask about the weather or my brother so they could report back at teatime that they were brave enough to converse with Riot Asher, Mother Slayer.
I took a breath, irritated I had to interrupt my work to shoo away another addict, before rapping three times on the window.
The woman lurched forward and snapped her head, scowling as if I were the one inconveniencing her. When our eyes met, a twinge of familiarity struck me.
“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!”she scoffed, rolling down her window halfway. I hid my surprise at her aggressive response and regarded her with skepticism.
She didn’t look like a crackhead. Her teeth and skin were impeccable despite dark circles under her eyes. Maybe she was a dealer.
She blinked rapidly, as if she could clear me out of her eye line.
“Well?” she snapped. “Can I help you?”
Okay, she wasn’t a drug dealer. A bit of an asshole, maybe.
With narrowed eyes, I tilted my head to a sign on the front of the building indicating the hours.
“Library’s closed,” I muttered.
A pit in my stomach formed, waiting for her to recognize me. For the inevitable wide-eyed, fear-stricken silence. But I only received an impatient, irritated huff.
“Okay. Then, what are you doing here?”She smirked like she’d caught me. She had stones. Spoiled little princess stones, but stones, nonetheless.
I waited for a beat. Then blinked and held up the edger in my hands.
“Work.”
A faint rouge colored her high cheekbones before the indignation returned to her expression.
“Oh,”she said, pushing her chin into the air.
“Well, me too.”She gestured toward a laptop that sat askew on her lap.
It left red indentations on her toned thighs, and I couldn’t help but notice she was wearing pajamas.
Tiny pajamas . Something stirred in my gut but I shoved it down.
“Turns out, no one’s heard of wireless internet here except for the library.
I was working and must have fallen asleep. ”
I raised my eyebrows and blinked once. Twice.
“Okay, I’m leaving. Jeez, you’d think the library would be thankful that someone actually finds their resources useful ,” she said.
Without another word, she gassed up the engine. It turned over hard. She cast one glance behind her and sped in reverse. I took a step back to avoid getting my toes run over. Her long blonde hair caught the wind as she took off.
Brat.