21: Franny (1/2)

21. Franny

The side of Tyler's truck cools my back even though the evening air is warm and wet. This season the temperatures are going up and down, ranging from cold to hot in the course of a single day. Today it's warm—not hot, but just plain, basic warm—and I hate it.

It's the weather that confuses everyone. No one knows whether to wear a coat, put on boots or go straight out into the morning wearing shorts. Around halfway through the day is when everyone realizes what they've worn isn't appropriate for the weather—some go home cold and some go home sweating out their hairlines.

Right now, it's somewhere in the middle. The truck is pressing up against the thin material of my sweater, the sleeves pushed up to my elbows. Tyler has been inside for a good fifteen minutes and I can't help but fidget and start worrying.

I still only partially know what's going on. The basics are enough but even so, I want to know everything. I'm still out of the loop when it comes to Tyler. I still don't understand everything. To be honest, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I barely know him at all. We only started talking a few weeks ago. Before that he was just another boy at school.

I know nothing about him, compared to the things I've told him about me. Things I told him when I hardly knew him. Stupid things I told a virtual stranger. A part of me wonders why I opened up to him after only knowing him for a few days. But another part of me shrugs it off and thinks of it as inevitable.

I had to tell someone eventually.

I just didn't expect it to be him.

I look up quickly when the doors to the bar open and my shoulder slump in relief when Tyler walks out, head low. He walks towards me slowly, not in any way hasty and I guess that he's doing it to avoid arousing suspicion. When he stops in front of me, he lets out a shaky breath.

”Let's go,” he says, and I hand him the keys to the truck.

He heads over to the driver's seat and I slip into the passenger side. His hands are shaking as he puts the key in the ignition. I try not to mention anything, but when he begins to fumble so much that the key won't go in, I reach over and place my hand over his. He flinches. I keep my hand there, watching him carefully. Tyler finally sighs and his entire body sags. I move his hand away and he drops the keys onto the space beside us. His fingers immediately run through his black hair and another long sigh escapes his lips.

”Tyler . . .?” I ask quietly.

”It's never that easy,” he whispers to himself.

”What's never . . . Ty, what happened?”

He moves his hands away from his face and places them on the steering wheel, shaking his head back and forth. ”It's too easy. Too simple.”

”Did you get your files?” I ask.

He nods. ”I got all of them.”

I snap my head over to look at him, eyes wide. ”All of them?”

”Everyone's,” he says. ”There were too many and it was taking too long to just find mine.”

”Well . . . that's not a bad thing, right?” I ask. ”I mean, now you have all evidence of you being there. Every fight you had with other people is in the files too, right?”

”But it was so simple.” Tyler looks at me. ”I just walked right in there and then walked right out. Why was Carl so off guard? So careless over security?”

I open my mouth but I have no answer to give him so I close it. I look out the windows to make sure no one is watching, and that no one has come out of the bar after Tyler. But when I look at the main doors, people are already standing there.

”Tyler,” I say and tilt my head towards the bar. ”Look.”

He follows my gaze and frowns as he takes in the group of men standing at the entrance, off to the side a little. They're all much older than us, many pushing about forty, maybe fifty years old. Luckily, the interior light in the truck is off. Most would think the truck was deserted unless they looked hard enough.

There are five of them and one is dominant over the conversation, talking the most and receiving the most attention. Another man comes in and seems to be angry, causing a quiet argument to ensue.

”Do you know them?” I ask.

”The big guy,” Tyler says. ”He's like a bouncer or bodyguard.”

”For who?”

”You see the guy in the white shirt? The one talking the most?” he asks and I nod. ”That's Carl.”

I squint my eyes and lean forward a little further. Another man is blocking my view of his face and it's only when he finally moves that my stomach drops. Carl's face is now clearly visible.

”Franny?” Tyler asks, his voice a little worried. ”You okay? You went all quiet . . . ”

”I know him.”

Tyler becomes silent beside me for a moment. ”How?”

”He used to come around to the house and talk to my dad,” I explain. ”I thought he was a friend. He stopped visiting before summer started.”

”Did he visit annually?” Tyler's pries. ”Once every month perhaps?”

”Once every two months,” I say quietly. ”Exactly.”

”Like a money collector?”

Dread fills me and I nod, turning back to look at Tyler. ”You don't think . . . ”

”Your dad gambles, right?” Tyler doesn't expect an answer, he already knows. ”Do you know what he gambles on? Who he gambles on?”

”Ty, he wouldn't do that. He's never showed any interest in fighting!”