Chapter 2: Cheaters and Lovers-1
641 Words
Chapter 2: Cheaters and Lovers
They exited Smattering Dazzle semi-drunk.
Jax said, “I have to stop at Will’s place for a check-in. I’m interested in knowing what he’s doing tonight since we’re apart.”
“Don’t you mean who he’s doing?”
“One never knows, do they?”
“And that one is you, my friend,” Auggie said, patting Jax on his left shoulder. He let Jax answer, and then added, “I’m heading home.” They hugged, which was brief, and Auggie placed a friendly kiss to his best friend’s right cheek. “I’m sure I will see you tomorrow.”
“We see each other every day.”
“Not that I ever complained.”
They said goodnight to each other. Auggie walked to the left on Marlow Street, and Jax walked to the right.
Jax wasn’t even a hundred feet away from the Hobb Building when something hard jabbed him in his left side. The force was quite the wallop to his hip area and knocked him off kilter. His left ankle twisted, and he fell to the sidewalk on his rump. An umphff tumbled out of his mouth, and pain skied along his ankle, which was jarring and felt like an electric bolt raced through its muscles, ligaments, tendons, and bones.
At first, he didn’t know what had happened. But then, just a few seconds later, a green and stylish bicycle stopped on the sidewalk ahead of him. Its owner jumped off. Jax blinked a few times and realized that he had been accidentally hit by the biker and one of the bike’s handlebars. He saw the Bixby’s owner, who was thin, tall, and handsome with brown hair. The rider wore a pair of summertime shorts, a T-shirt, and Nike sneakers. He used the kickstand on the Bixby, temporarily abandoned it, and rushed to Jax’s side, standing over him.
“Are you all right?” the stranger asked.
Jax stared into the man’s young face and replied, “I’ve been better.”
The stranger helped Jax off the sidewalk, apologizing for hitting him with the Bixby’s right handlebar. Obviously nervous, out of breath, he said, “I’m sorry about that. I misjudged where you were.”
Jax let out a moan, bounced on his good foot, and said, “It feels twisted.”
“A little or a lot?”
Jax looked over at the biker and asked, “Does it matter?”
“Guess not. Can you walk on it?”
Jax could, without any problem. The ankle didn’t look twisted, sprained with swelling, or broken. “What’s your name?” Jax asked, leaning on the man, learning that he had a muscular build underneath his clothes.
“Gary. Gary Bent.”
“Nice to meet you, Gary Bent.”
“It could be under better circumstances.”
“I agree. But things happen.” Jax was right. Things did happen. Sometimes shitty things and sometimes good things. Getting struck by a stranger’s passing bike was pretty shitty, but real nonetheless. “I’m Jaxford Morrison.”
“Great name. Original.”
“I go by Jax.”
“A pleasure, Jax.”
The two men shook hands, and Jax felt as if an instant connection had occurred. He didn’t see sparks behind his eyes or feel them inside his heart, but he did think of them. For some odd reason, he thought Gary genuine and without any airs.
Gary said he lived on Shellton Street in a four-floor building with eight flats. He told Jax he lived alone because he was uncomfortable with roommates. He had the entire fourth floor to himself, which overlooked the finer parts of Eastwind.
“The views are pretty amazing up there. I think you’ll like them once we get some ice on your left ankle.”
“It really doesn’t hurt now,” Jax confessed, hobbling a bit down Mayden, which ran perpendicular to Shellton.
Gary persisted. “We should really elevate it and get some ice on it. Do my guilt that little favor. What do you say?”
They ended up on Shellton Street approximately two minutes later, walking slowly and side by side. Gary pushed his Bixby, and Jax walked at his side. They came to a steel, red door with a Keri access hanging on the cement wall to its right. Gary flashed a plastic card by the reader. The door unlocked, allowing them both access. Gary placed the bike over his left shoulder and walked inside the building. Jax followed him, wondering exactly what danger he was getting himself into, if any.
- Writer
