A Miserable Pile of Secrets Ch. 02

Vince's eyes popped a bit and his lips parted. Then he said with a serious tone, "You didn't know jack smith about punching anything before I came along."

"Exactly," Arthur said, "and that ... piece of work ... he wasn't above making sure I did everything he wanted, everything." He deepened his tone and repeated that word again. "Everything. I might as well have been in prison."

"Oh. Wow." Vince laced his fingers and put his hands in his lap. "That's ... a whole lot of wow."

"Yeah ... so, I'm sort of hiding out for now. I call my parents sometimes, but I haven't told them where I'm living." Arthur started eating his food again.

At this time, the men both decided they should go for seconds, and maybe have some dessert. "I haven't had cake in two months," Vince had said, "and I want the shortcake next to the chocolate stuff and the pineapples."

That made Arthur laugh for some reason, and he was still grinning as they went to get clean plates. They were side by side, and Arthur was using some plastic tongs to get a creamy orange thing onto his plate, when he happened to look across the buffet to the other side.

He dropped the tongs and the creamy orange thing.

His heart went insane. He started sweating way too much. He was breathing through his mouth as if there was nowhere near enough air to go around.

"Arthur?" That was Vince. "What's wrong?" He touched Arthur's shoulder. "Hey, are you sick?"

Arthur left his plate on the buffet's metal rack and walked away. Well, to be more accurate, he jogged away.

"Hey!! Don't just walk out!!" Vince stopped him by tugging on his clothes. "What the hell's going on?"

Arthur stuttered, but he managed to say, "Speak of the Devil." Then he wrenched Vince's hand off and hurried to the nearest exit.

Vince wasn't having that. He took Arthur's arm again. "Speak of the ...? Don't tell me your ex is here. That's the stupidest thing I've heard all day."

Over Vince's shoulder, Arthur saw him.

Black T-shirt with a gray and white Asian dragon, a cocky smile, and dirty sneakers that looked like they were expensive once upon a time.

A sleeve tattoo of angels, crucifixes, and spider webs.

And a shaved head.

Jake Anderson.

Arthur tasted bile and blood for no real reason.

He whimpered and tried to get away again. Vince followed closely, steering him the best he could. "Hey, let's pay for the food. Then we can go. I'll stay with you, okay?"

Arthur nearly tripped over nothing. Vince's warm hand pressed in the middle of his chest to keep him from falling. He murmured to Arthur, "Hey, what's the guy look like?"

"Tattoos," Arthur squeaked out between his breaths, "crosses, angels, spider webs. Shaved head." He suddenly had to cough so hard that all of his body heaved. Even his toes felt the pressure.

Vince looked back, and then he quietly said, "Okay. I see him. He's looking at you like he's got plans, and I don't think they're nice plans."

The next time Arthur looked up, he was at the cash register. The poor cashier had the most concerned expression. "Is he going to be okay?"

"It's fine," Vince said as he moved right behind Arthur. "I'll make sure he gets home to calm down." Then Arthur heard Vince his hand slide into the back pocket of his jeans, probably to get his wallet. His arm stretched out beside Arthur; his hand had a few bills in it. "You can have the change," Vince said.

"Okay," the cashier said as she took the money, "would you like a receipt?"

"No thanks." Vince seemed to put his wallet back into his pocket. Then he put his left hand on Arthur's left shoulder. "Okay, I'm going to walk you to your car. You can sit in there and catch your breath. I'll be right next to you. Don't worry."

Arthur had tightly wrapped his arms about himself.

But the air was hot.

The air in the parking lot was slightly cooler, but still unusually warm. Still feeling the tight grip on his shoulder, Arthur unlocked his car's door. He heard Vince mutter something like, "Are there cameras around? Feels like a shitty hidden camera show."

Arthur got in the driver's seat, but Vince told him not to drive off. "Stay there and rest up. You look like you're having a panic attack or something. I'll lean on your door and keep a lookout. Lock up." Arthur nodded and closed the door. Then he locked them all. Vince did as he'd said. He leaned on the driver's door, facing outwards.

Arthur tried looking around, and when he thought he saw a familiar red car, he thought he knew who owned it. That suspicion was confirmed when Jake the Ex walked over to that red car and unlocked the door. Arthur hoped Vince noticed.

Maybe five minutes passed. Arthur was calmer, but he was still highly stressed. The red car hadn't moved even though Jake was clearly in the driver's seat ... still fucking smiling.

Vince turned and knocked on the window. Arthur started the car and pushed a button to have the window slide down just enough. "Hey," Vince said, his stern eyes piercing through the yellow light in the car, "I'm going to get in my truck. Don't drive home. Go to my place instead. I'll follow you."

"Are you sure?"

Vince nodded. "You don't need that asshole knowing where you live. Drive up into my yard, but don't leave your car, and don't unlock the doors."

Arthur cringed so hard he nearly bit his tongue. "Ah! What are you going to do?"

With a completely unruffled shrug, Vince said, "Depends on whether or not he has a gun."

"Uhm, okay? But what if he has a gun?"

Again, truly casual, Vince said, "I'll just shoot him in the head. I keep a gun in my truck, bullets too."

Well, of course he'd keep a gun in his god damn truck! He probably ate bullets for breakfast!

Arthur groaned. "Okay, but be careful. He's a damn freak."

"By the way, what's his name?" Vince asked.

"Jake Anderson."

Vince sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "Well, if he starts playing gangsta, I'll rename him 'My Bitch.'"

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