Chapter Text
The supermarket closed in fifteen minutes but Will’s boss was keeping him on the register because he’s an asshole. There were zero customers inside the small convenience store. Will could see the fridges at the back holding the milk cartons and frozen pizzas from his spot behind his counter and in between the empty aisles, if he turned his head just a little bit to the left. The other cashiers went to help the rest of the crew wipe down shelves and products, sweep floors, and wipe the doors and handles to the fridges. Anything to avoid standing around for no damn reason, or to avoid standing next to Will fuckin’ Bailey.
He counted the bills and change in his register already, he put away the few receipts he had. There was nothing for him to do but stand there and stew in his misery, insects hovering in and out of his vicinity to mess with him. The bleach detergent that was being used to sanitize the floor clawed up into his nose and stuck at the back of his throat, causing his haughty glare to morph into narrowed eyes and a bigger frown.
Will knew better than to hope for anything in his life, but he figured that hoping the door to the market would stay closed for the remainder of his shift was yet another slap in his face when the glass door swung open.
He would have shouted that the store was closed if it was anybody else, no doubt docking more of his pay from his measly pay check to begin with, but it was Jeffrey who came tumbling into the store behind Steve, whose arms swayed freely at his side like a kid who just successfully nabbed a cookie from the cookie jar.
“Hey, Bill.” Jeffrey said inconspicuously, resting his elbows on the rubber conveyor belt beside his counter. “What’re you doin’ here?”
Will was unamused by whatever clown act these idiots were performing. “I work here.”
“Yeah, but,” Jeffrey leaned further down on the belt, his chin in his palms. “The sign said closed. You should be done working now.”
“Well, I’m not. What’s Steve doing?”
“Steven’s not doing anything,” Steve called from down an aisle.
Will stood on the tip of his toes to shout over his cash register. “Don’t harass my fucking co-workers, you asshole.”
“Hey,” Will looked back at Jeffrey who had a stern look on his face. “Watch your fucking language man, you’re on the clock.”
“At least I have a job, you freeloader.” Will crossed his arms, settled his hip against the side of his counter. “What do you want?”
Jeffrey smiled, a wide, loose thing. “Your shift is over, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Are you high?” Will took a step closer, inspecting his friend's eyes.
“A little—what are you, a cop?” Jeffrey was still smiling, but he made it look angry somehow.
“Fuck you,” Will said dismissively. “I can’t leave, anyway. My boss will kick my ass if I take off early.”
Steve reappeared beside Jeffrey with a handful of chip bags and a two-liter of Coke. He said, “We literally walked into some of your co-workers leaving when we got here.”
“Yeah, well, my boss is a prick with a God complex, or some shit.”
“Dude.” Steve replied sympathetically.
Jeffrey swung his arm in a languid motion when an insect landed on his shoulder. Will’s eyes searched the rest of the store, not bothering to be discreet as he watched his co-workers exit the break room in plain clothes. If he took a step out from behind his counter, his boss’s voice would sound over the loudspeaker and tell him to get back to work, Bailey.
Such bullshit.
“So, you’re saying if we didn’t pay for these items, you would have to run after us?”
Will turned to Jeffrey, who wore a faux-innocent expression on his face that belied his question. “Don’t steal that.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. “I can’t believe working at Tony’s made you an honest man. Congratulations,” he solemnly placed the chips and Coke on the belt. “Do you accept tips?”
“Yeah, I got a tip for you right here…” Will grumbled as he scanned the products. It wasn’t until he repeated his second year of high school that his dad let him drink that fizzy shit, even though he knew that Will was stealing beer bottles out of the fridge for years.
He pointedly didn’t drink soda after the fact.
Steve and Jeffrey were chuckling and knocking into each other like two stupid puppies that had no care in the world. The rancid odor of dope absolutely came from Steve, it was probably the smell that chased all of Will’s younger colleagues out with the fear that they would either get a contact high or that the scent would stick to their clothes. They’d probably get an earful from their old man, a lecture about how drugs were dumbing the minds of the youth and how it was a starting point towards dangerous, harder substances that people sold their bodies for.
The smell chased the older employees out, too, because they knew the kind of disruptive antics Will’s friends pulled when they showed up at the end of his shifts.
He placed the two-liter in a plastic bag, shoving the chips out of the way. “It’s eleven dollars and eighty-six cents.”
Steve made a show of checking his pants for pockets, of which they had none. His leather vest had no pockets either, and he gasped gently with the realization. “Oh, damn, I left m—”
“I am not paying for this shit.” Will’s last thread of patience was singeing at its end.
“Relax,” Jeffrey pushed into Steve but it was a fruitless effort as he stood his ground, grinning, and put his arm around Jeffrey’s shoulder instead, bringing him in closer. “I got it.”
The sight wasn’t necessarily uncommon, nor was it something Will hadn't seen before, but he frowned at their proximity anyway. Jeffrey pulled out a ten dollar bill from a ratty old wallet, then fumbled with the zipper that contained his coins. His long fingers dug around inside the black leather that was thinning and tearing, and Will almost felt sorry for the thing until Steve produced a five dollar bill from out of nowhere when Jeffrey said, “I don’t think I have enough to make two bucks.”
“Here,” Steve said, a big, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Oh, thanks,” Jeffrey took the cash, not missing a beat, and offered it to Will. He was trying, and failing, to conceal his own smile.
Will snatched the money out of his hand. “You guys are the fucking worst.” He slammed his hand down on the register, the drawer opening immediately. “You gonna waste your hard-earned money on this, Jeffrey?”
His friend shrugged his shoulder that wasn’t covered by Steve, who seemed to get impossibly closer to him with each passing second.
“Hey Will,” Steve said, his voice trembling around barely-contained laughter. “Keep the change.”
It must have been the funniest shit they heard all day. Steve laughed out loud, his eyes screwed shut, and Jeffrey’s shoulders were shaking as he snickered and shook his head. Steve was pulling Jeffrey around, their bodies swaying as they laughed together, until Jeffrey calmed down and seemed to have muttered something like, “okay, knock it off,” because Steve suddenly gave him a tight squeeze, then let go of him.
“Whatever,” Will tossed the receipt on top of his pile and shut the drawer, moving out from behind the counter. Fuck his boss. “Are the guys still meeting us at Josie’s?”
He eyed Steve placing the bags of chips into the plastic bag with his Coke. Maybe Will could eat more than a handful of soggy fries tonight.
“Yeah, Saul’s getting out of bed and Mike said he’d be there half an hour ago.” Steve tied the plastic bag closed and carried it from the cap of the bottle, following Will toward the break room.
Steve opened the door for him, holding it open as Will pulled the hem of his work shirt over his head and made a beeline for his locker. All he had in there was his old muscle tank and his wallet, which sat right where he’d left it before his shift started. He slipped his wallet into his pocket and pushed his hands through the arm holes of his shirt. There was an old punch clock sitting in the far corner of the room that was an hour and fifteen minutes out of sync. Will decided to write his time down when he started work again in a few days.
“Was he sleeping all day?” Jeffrey asked from the other side of the door, slouched against the wall.
“I’m not sure,” replied Steve. “I called his house and his aunt said that he was still in his room. She said she’d wake him up and give him the message.”
Will absently scratched at his abdomen, stopping at the door frame. “What the hell are we waiting for? Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
Josie’s was originally supposed to be a chain restaurant, kind of like McDonald’s or KFC. The business got its humble start in Indiana and had some openings in small counties in Missouri and Ohio, but then the founder killed himself after questions were raised about taxes and why employees and partnerships hadn’t been paid. The sign advertising for Josie’s Delight was still up but the light inside had died out years ago.
Nobody knew where the meats and other inventory had come from back then, and Will had a vague memory of when he was younger, hearing playground rumors that the meat was a sick mixture of dead bodies and mud. He’d watch the other kids eat small burgers and chicken tenders with their families and the next day, those kids didn’t show up to class because they got sick.
Now, Josie’s was run by two old-timers that wanted to live out their dreams of running their own business before they croaked. Will had never met them, never seen them in the building itself, but Josie’s turned out to be a local success. The fries were hit or miss, and even the misses were still pretty damn good.
It wasn’t too far of a walk from Tony’s Convenience Store, but it was Sunday. It felt like the whole business center in Old Bridge closed before sundown, and Will’s supervisor loved to make him close on Sunday’s just to fuck with him. It wasn’t like Will had many options for employment, either. He was fired from the bank, the movie theater before it closed down, the laundromat, the motel by the highway, the gas station, the car mechanic’s, and the post office. To name a few. So he kept his mouth shut when he could manage it, took any shifts that were available, filling in for whoever, whenever.
Steve and Jeffrey were walking in front of him, keeping up their mindless chatter amongst themselves, so Will stopped paying attention to them altogether. He put one foot in front of the other with the knowledge that Josie’s was still a few blocks away, and looked across the street. Most of the little shops and businesses were already emptied out for the day, open signs turned to closed, doors bolted shut, the lights inside turned off.
Not many people were out on the street, maybe a couple kids trying to rebel by staying out past curfew, weaving in and out of the alleyways. Some stragglers lingered here and there, too; hungover and sitting on the curb to try and pull their life back together before going back to their nine-to-five in the morning. Will saw a few junkies shuffling anxiously by the road, disoriented by their gradual return to consciousness.
That’s what made it all the more surprising to see Mike McKagan appear from a corner across the street, seemingly unaware of their presence. He was wearing a navy colored shirt underneath a leather jacket, black pants completing his ensemble. If Will wasn’t looking, he’s sure they would have missed him completely.
“Hey, Mike!” He shouted, startling the pair in front of him.
Mike whipped his head toward the sound, a smile breaking across his face when he realized who was addressing him. Or who Will was standing beside. “Hey! Guys!”
Without checking both ways for traffic, Mike jogged across the road, coming to a stop between Will and Jeffrey. His wild, blond hair was tangled and disheveled, something like eyeliner smudged around his eyes.
“I thought you were at Josie’s already?” Steve asked, untangling himself from Jeffrey.
“I was just about to walk out of the house when my mom asked me to go drop something off at Ms. Keaton’s.” Mike was the type of guy to offer to carry two armfuls of grocery bags for his neighbors and insist he was happy to do so. He was just as quick to stop doing something just ‘cause it didn’t make sense to him to keep doing it. He shrugged, adding, “Besides, I kinda figured Will would be late.”
“It’s not my fault my boss is an asshole.” Will sighed, ignoring a twist of hunger pains in his gut.
“Let’s get going,” Jeffrey said. He did not wait for a response and kept walking down the street.
On a Sunday, when it was close to quitting time, Josie’s wasn’t busy at all. However, the gas station in the same lot meant that there typically was enough traffic around to be irritating. Josie’s never closed on time anyway, as truckers driving through Old Bridge to get back on the main highway always stopped for a late bite to eat and to refuel.
There was a semi truck stopped by the pumps, and even though that meant potentially dealing with people from out of town, Will knew that the heat and griddle was still on to feed those lonely drivers. It was a comforting thought for all of two seconds until he spotted Saul smoking on the side of the restaurant.
Saul was wearing an old white t-shirt that used to have a graphic design of some sort on the front, but after years of rolling around in the washing machine, all that was left was a few patchy, black lines in a loopy script spelling something Will couldn’t figure out. The end of the sleeves were rolled up, revealing his toned biceps. His legs filled out a dark pair of pants, accompanied by worn, faded sneakers that had seen better days. Saul’s long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the sharp features of his face softened with recognition as he saw the rest of the guys walking across the road towards him.
Will felt the wind on his bare shoulders. He couldn’t stop himself in time from raising his hand to cover his upper arm self-consciously. Lifting products and storing them on shelves helped maintain his muscle mass, but his arms were still thin. Even from a distance, Saul’s shoulders had definition. Will didn’t know what he did in his spare time, but whatever he was doing to keep up with his physique, it was working.
Steve bounded across Josie’s parking lot, a goofy chuckle filling the air. Will watched as Saul took the cigarette out of his mouth, bent his knees a little, and opened his arms, creating a basket for Steve to fall into. It wasn’t a question of when Steve would crash into someone with an unnecessary hug, it was how much time he gave them to prepare for it.
“God, they’re so gross,” Mike commented, amused, and failed to see the irony in what he just said.
Will just raised an eyebrow at him as Jeffrey walked on, lackadaisical in his approach. Mike watched him go before turning to glance at Will, flashing him a quick, oblivious smile before striding toward the rest of the guys.
Will sighed aloud, stuffing his hands in his beige work slacks. Those two were fucking hopeless.
Mike and Saul had transferred, both from some upper class high school in Baltimore, all the way to a shitty public school in Old Bridge, Indiana during Will, Jeffrey, and Steve’s junior year. They didn’t look like they were from Baltimore, and they didn’t look like they went to a school where the graduation rate was ninety-two percent. Saul explained that he and Mike’s family were military: the Hudson’s had settled in Maryland hoping to provide Saul with some stability and Mike’s parents wanted to shove him into a university as fast as possible. When the two of them collided at Grandview Academy, those plans were set on fire and thrown out the window.
After arriving at Old Bridge, they stood out immediately from the rest of Golden Oak High. Jeffrey and Will had straight hair that ended just below their jawbones, and Steve had bright blond wavy hair that stopped at his shoulders. Saul’s long, dark curls got him in trouble during class more often than not. When he wore his hair down it acted like a barrier, sometimes it was hard to see his face if you were sitting beside him in a certain way. A few teachers caught him sleeping in his seat during class when he was supposed to be doing work.
One of the staff employees at the school had made a complaint that if Saul didn’t cut his hair, he would be forced to repeat the year. When his aunt got word about what happened, she marched straight down to the principal’s office. Apparently, Saul’s parents were some big shots and had a decently sized grip on public relations in a handful of school divisions in the United States. That got the principal to reprimand the teachers, and to schedule a few mandatory school assembly meetings in the gymnasium about how all the students were ‘equals’ and that everyone deserved the same respect as everybody else.
Mike’s hair was longer than Steve’s, and it was a loud, blond mop that he almost never brushed. Or, if he did, the oil in his hair matted it all down into a wavy, unruly mess. On top of that, he accessorized. Hats weren’t allowed to be worn in class or on school grounds, but there was nothing in the policy handbook that said anything about bandanas. When he ran out of bandanas to wear, he wrapped vintage scarves around his forehead.
Every time the staff would call Mike out for violating some rule or guideline, he would show up the next day wearing something that toed the line of academic expulsion that much closer.
The kids at Golden Oak High School didn’t care enough to rebel the way Mike had, and Will wouldn’t have been surprised if more than a few teachers and students found it inconvenient to work with Saul. As for Jeffrey and Steve, they slacked off like the rest of them, but Steve was even worse at trailing after him when they were younger. And it wasn’t like they were trying to be subtle. Will thought that the only reason the five of them managed to graduate at all was because the school staff didn’t want to deal with their teenage insubordination anymore.
Will was the last to come to a stop beside the deteriorating pavement around Josie’s diner. Small cracks and craters littered the sidewalk leading to the entrance that faced the street. The side wall of the building provided a shield to the light breeze. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Steve was saying something to Saul, talking animatedly with his hands. He had an unlit cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. Mike seemed to be following along, eyes flitting between the two. Jeffrey was a couple steps beside them, resting against the wall with his eyes half-closed. Will stood in the space between him and Mike.
He regarded Jeffrey. “Waiting for something to happen?”
Jeffrey cast a sidelong glance in his direction. “Waiting for some goddamn food. I’m starving.” At the reminder, Will’s stomach squeezed and growled aloud. Jeffrey turned to look at him fully. “When’s the last time you ate?”
Will sniffed, looking out toward the gas pumps nonchalantly. “Yesterday, I think around lunch.” Suddenly, he peeked over at Steve and asked Jeffrey, “Where’d the bag of things you bought go?”
“Steven dropped it off at your place, said those chips were for his little brother and sister. He said he owed them, or something.” Will furrowed his brows, a question resting on the tip of his tongue.
Just then, Jeffrey sighed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Fuck, I’m hungry.”
Will gave his friend an unimpressed look. He jerked his head once, a short gesture to the guy standing beside him.
Jeffrey stalled for a moment before he pushed himself off the wall, hands sliding into his jeans’ pockets. “Hey, Michael.”
At the sound of his name, or the sound of Jeffrey’s voice, Mike’s head whirled around so quickly that Will was surprised it didn’t spin right off. “Yeah? What’s up?” His eyes were attentive with an open expression, like his entire world narrowed down to a singular point and Jeffrey was right in the center of it.
“Are we gonna get some food, or what?”
“I already made the order,” Saul said, taking a drag from his smoke. He grinned as he exhaled. “I think it should be ready now since you guys took forever to get here.”
“It’s not my fault my boss is a dickhead.” Will argued before anyone could say anything. He was too hungry for this shit.
“No one said it was your fault, Will!” Steve said, sincerity in his voice. He pleaded for understanding, saying, “We’re just messing with you, we know your job sucks.”
Will huffed and stood back against the wall.
“Okay, I’ll go check it out.” Mike took a step back, still looking at Jeffrey. “Hey, uh. Do you want to come with me?”
Jeffrey frowned, light confusion playing on his face. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Well, I just—”
“Yeah Mikey, the chick that takes our orders always gives you the discounts!” Steve pointed out. “If Jeff went with you, she’d probably charge us the regular price.”
Jeffrey’s frown deepened briefly then flickered out of sight, his usual blank stare taking over his features. The moment was so fast that Will almost missed it.
Mike didn’t seem too convinced by Steve’s argument, but he looked at Saul who shrugged and waved his hand. “Just go check, Mike, Jesus. If you need someone to hold your hand all the way there, just ask Steve.”
While Steve perked up at the idea, Mike swiftly turned and walked on. “No, that’s okay, be back in a sec.” He said, rounding the corner of the diner before he could finish talking.
“Hey,” Saul nodded his head at Jeffrey when Mike didn’t come back right away. “Where’s your guitar?”
Jeffrey leaned his shoulder against the wall, facing him. “My dad sold it.”
“What?” Will thrust himself forward to stand in front of Jeffrey, who looked annoyed at most.
But Will could tell, from the way his eyes narrowed and lips curled as he spoke, Jeffrey was fucking pissed. “Yeah, I guess he sold it when I was out the other day.”
“Shitty deal, man.” Saul shook his head. His cigarette was dangling from his mouth.
Will focused his gaze back on Jeffrey. “Who did he sell it to?”
“How the fuck would I know that?” Jeffrey finally scowled. His hand sunk into his pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes, opening it to reveal only a few sticks were left. He sighed, lips pressed into a thin line, before offering the pack to Will. He asked, in a flat voice, “Want one?”
Will gave his friend a questioning look, but Jeffrey’s lidded eyes stared off into some middle distance. He picked one out of the pack and said, “You quitting again, or something?”
Jeffrey shrugged, half-hearted at best. “Maybe,” he mumbled. He held onto the used carton, leering at it, then shoved it back in his pocket.
“You got a light?” Will asked him after patting himself down and coming up empty handed.
When Jeffrey just shrugged again and made some grumbling sound, Saul took a half-step closer. “I got one. Come here.”
Saul retrieved a Bic lighter from his pocket, flicking the flame to life. Unthinking, Will leaned forward until the tip of his cigarette started to burn. He stared into it, feeling the heat rising up his neck to settle on his face for those agonizing seconds that seemed to drag on forever. He quickly pulled back and inhaled, letting the smoke circulate inside of him.
“Thanks,” he exhaled, resolutely not letting his eyes find the ones directly across from him.
“Sure.” Saul tucked his lighter away, settling his shoulders against the diner wall.
Just beyond the corner of the building was the sound of the diner door opening, the trill of a bell echoing briefly. Mike was chuckling, a polite little laugh reserved for small talk. Something to fill the silence with when you had no idea what to say. He did eventually say something, but Will couldn’t hear him clearly enough. The thought of warm, cooked food consumed his thoughts until they were fit to burst out his skull. He almost wished he could have waited, told Jeffrey he’d have the smoke after he was done eating, but it didn’t really matter. He would be finished with it before they got to the hill, anyway.
Steve peeked around the corner, calling out, “Do you need help with that?”
“Nah,” Mike responded tightly. His voice was strained. “I’m good.”
“Go and help him,” Saul said to Steve, a smirk suddenly covering his face. “Actually, wait, let’s go watch.”
“I’m right here, asshole.” Mike huffed when he emerged from behind the wall. He was carrying two plastic bags in each hand, one bag balanced on both arms. “What did you even order? This shit hurts.”
Steve grabbed one of the bags from Mike’s hand, opening it curiously.
“There was some kind of family deal going on.” Saul tapped the ash off his cigarette, slotting it back in his mouth to help Mike with the takeout. “Did you get the free drinks?”
Mike’s eyes widened. “They’re on the counter.”
“I’ll grab them.” Jeffrey spoke up, already strolling away from the group. A vehicle honked twice from the gas pumps. Jeffrey’s head turned sharply at the sound, a swear most likely clenched between his teeth, but he loosened up immediately. “Hang on.”
“Hey!” Steve shouted after Jeffrey, who was already halfway to the car. He started after him, clutching the plastic bag in a tight fist.
Will didn’t blame Steve for running after him like that. Sometimes Jeffrey had a worse temper than Will himself, with much less self-awareness about it. All it took was a cursory scan of the car for Will to recognize it and, by process of elimination, who could be sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Hey! Steven!” Deborah Isbell poked her head out the driver side window. “Thirty yards!”
“Oh,” Steve came to an abrupt stop then began backing up step by step, smiling brightly. “Hi, Debby!”
From this distance, Will couldn’t see her too well, but she tilted her head the way she did when she wore her lopsided grin.
“Jeffrey!” Saul shouted at his back.
“I’ll catch up with you guys later!”
Will exhaled, smoke pooling out of his mouth. To Steve, he asked, “What did you do this time?”
Steve sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I wanted to talk to Jeffrey about something, but it didn’t look like anybody was home. So, I went around back to look in his window, to check if the place really was empty.”
“What’d you see?” Saul prompted, mildly intrigued. Mike had put the remaining bags on the ground. He was kneeling to sift through the Styrofoam takeout boxes, but he looked up when Steve began his story.
“I saw…” Steve suppressed his smile. He gave Saul a knowing glance. “I mean. I technically didn’t see anything.”
“Oh, my God.” Mike shook his head. “Steve, you’re a little freak. You know that?”
“I just said I didn’t see anything!” Steve defended himself. “I just saw somebody with black hair standing there, okay, and it just so happened to not have a shirt on, but it’s not my fault Jeff looks like his sister from behind.”
Saul found this to be hilarious. “What.”
Mike, on the other hand, was scandalized. “What are you saying—”
“Jesus-fuckin’-Christ, Steve.” Will admonished. “Is that why you were walking around in a sling a couple weeks ago?”
“No.” Steve said, petulant. “Anyway, like I said, I didn’t see anything. I knocked on the window and Debby cursed me out. She said if I get within thirty yards of her, she’ll rearrange my teeth.” Steve stood with his back right up against Josie’s, the bag of takeout food hanging from his closed hand. “Do you guys think this is thirty yards?”
“I think we should leave,” Mike suggested, closing the boxes and placing them back inside the plastic bags. “Food’s gonna get cold if we don’t get out of here in time.”
“And soggy.” Saul nodded a little. They were all familiar with the taste of damp fries and chilled, lumpy gravy that was left to sit in its thin plastic container undisturbed for too long.
“You guys go ahead. I’ll stay back.” Will lightly ground the end of his cigarette against the wall. He could save it for later.
Mike opened his mouth, taking in a quick breath before shutting it. He gathered the bags in his hands again as he stood up.
“Sure, whatever.” Saul said. “Here, lemme grab another one of those…”
“Hey,” Will reached out before Saul could take another bag off of Mike’s hands. “I got it.”
When he looked over, Saul was staring right back at him. He couldn’t tell if there was something hidden behind those eyes, or if the neutral expression he wore was to cover up some kind of repressed emotion. Instead, Saul just smiled at him in a small, approving way. The smile shifted his entire face, and he looked so different that Will nearly flinched.
Will figured out right away that the most intimidating thing about Saul was his hair. Underneath all that, he was the kind of guy who would have your back if you got yourself in a sticky situation. He was nice enough, sure, but he was also carefree. There weren’t too many opportunities for anyone to get the jump on him, mostly because Saul never really got into too many fights he couldn’t end with a peace offering of a shot of whisky or a toke, or with a punch square in the jaw of whichever loudmouth decided to piss him off.
But that smile…
Then Saul blinked away, turning to say something raunchy or inappropriate to Steve to make him laugh. That quick glimpse of something Will didn’t know how to describe and couldn’t make sense of disappeared like it never existed.
Will hated the way his stomach swooped and squeezed. He knew it wasn’t just because he was hungry.
“Thanks, man.” Mike replied, adjusting his hold on the remaining takeout bags. He started to follow after Saul and Steve, who were already in Josie’s parking lot, when he spun around and said, “Oh, hey, don’t forget the drinks!”
Will nodded at him in response, couldn’t trust his voice to be steady when he felt this way. Across the lot, at the gas pumps, he saw Jeffrey somewhat bent over at the waist, kneeling a little, to talk to his sister. When Will turned to wave his friends goodbye, he saw Mike watching Jeffrey, too.