The next morning, it was like a ghost town. Tool was downstairs tattooing a pretty young lady, presumably his girlfriend. The way he was lowly whispering to her I'd assume so. He hears me reach the bottom of the iron stairs and looks up.
"Well hey there darlin'! Sleep well?" he asks. I grin.
"Like a rock, thanks to you," I comment. He raises a brow, confused.
"Thanks to me?"
"Yeah. I fell asleep by the window and someone put me in my bed."
"Honey that wasn't me," he shakes his head smiling. I realize instantly that Barney must've done it. A kind, warm feeling spreads across my heart at the gesture. I find myself smiling because of it.
"He's not hopeless, kid," Tool says quietly. I smile, knowing he's right.
"Let's hope so, Tool."
"How's the tat?"
"Looking pretty good," as I say this, my stomach growls loudly. I realize I hadn't ate yesterday at all. Tool grins.
"Kitchen is over there, help yourself," he points to the back of the garage. I walk over and discover a large stash of cereal.
"You can blame Toll Road for that," I hear Barney say behind me. He looks exhausted, like he hasn't slept at all.
"Hey. You alright? You look tired," I frown, and note that he shows surprise on his face for my concern.
"Just has a rough night. You know," he shrugs. I nod.
"Would Toll Road care if I had the cereal?" I raise a brow. Barney actually laughs.
"I doubt it, but if he comes at you with fists, I'll protect you," he jokes. I laugh and pull a box of cereal out of the cabinet.
"So I figured today I could take you shopping… you know. To make your room more like your room," he offers and I freeze. My heart catapults into overdrive.
"Y-you mean, like, you want me to stay longer?"
"Jesus Brenna, did you think I was going to kick you out after a day?"
"No! Just maybe after a couple days," I say sheepishly. Barney sighs.
"I'm sorry, that's my fault. I haven't been very welcoming. But I want you to stay. I don't expect us to be… well… I don't know. But I do want us to be friends. We both cared deeply for your mom. She'd want us to be at least that," he says sincerely. I'm sure my face seems shocked, and I don't say anything for a moment.
"Uh… yeah I think so too. I mean… um… thank you for being so… nice," I say awkwardly and he also shift uncomfortably. Tool watches us like we're some kind of lab experiment, his black eyes wide but with full over humor too.
"You two are fucking hilarious. Honestly, it's like watching two robots interact," Tool busts out laughing, earning a glare from Barney. His lady friend heads upstairs for god knows what. "On the plus side, she's a lot more human than you. And thankfully she takes after her mom, mostly. She has quite a resemblance to you as well," he teases us. My face grows hot and Barney opens his mouth to say something, before the garage door opens loudly. The sounds makes me jump, and before too long, a loud motorcycle come through the door. It's the blond giant.
"Hey Gunnar," Barney says. Gunnar gives a slight nod, but heads straight for the booze. It's before noon, and even Barney looks wary.
"What's wrong, Gunnar?" Tool asks. Gunnar grunts and sits down in a chair.
"Lady threw me out," Tool chokes on a puff of smoke from his pipe.
"I'm sorry? You and a lady?" Gunnar looks offended, but I can see the deeply rooted concern in his eyes. I take my bowl of cereal and sit across from him in the lounge area of the garage.
"What happened?" I ask, and he looks at me. Admittedly, he kind of frightened me.
"We got into a fight. About work. Long story," but he gives Barney a knowing look. Barney nods, but I decided against questioning him. Besides, fights about work usually mean the fight was about him working too much.
"Try giving her some time to cool off, maybe rant with some of her friends, and then come back with flowers. Maybe a gift. Something that shows you care, even though you work a lot," I offer through a bite of cereal. Barney and Tool smirk at me, and Gunnar raises an eyebrow.
"And you're the relationship expert?" He asks rather gruffly. My skin prickles with warning sensations, telling me to back off and scurry
"Easy," Barney warns under his breath.
"Well, I am a woman am I not? You are dating a woman, right?" I respond in a deadpan voice. Gunnar finally smirks, and I relax. Tool and Barney chuckle.
"I don't even know what would be considered thoughtful to her," he mutters, disbanding the idea.
"Well, what does she like?"
"I don't know. Music, art, lovey shit. Things I'm not good at," he complains. I perk up when he says art.
"Art? What kind?"
"Just like, cute flowery shit. She doesn't think I want the relationship because I don't share my feelings," he impersonates her voice rather badly. I instantly smile widely as an idea sparks in the back of my mind.
"Do you have a picture of her?"
Gunnar eyes me weirdly but produces a picture from his wallet. She's pretty, about his age, but definitely more feminine than I was imagining. I look at her for several seconds, while everyone tries to figure out what I'm doing.
"Do you think you can be patient and keep an open mind for about thirty minutes?" I ask him, and he gestures around him in a way that suggests he has nothing else better to do. I nod and run very quickly upstairs to my room and back down with my sketch pad and pencil set. Tool comes up behind me while I flip through my sketches.
"Very nice. I didn't know you could draw so well," he comments. I snort.
"You met me yesterday," I begin my sketch with an idea in mind that just might work.
Forty five minutes later, I've finished my drawing. Lee has arrived as well, observing me like everyone else. I've drawn a street-art portrait of Gunnar and his girl, with them embracing each other and flowers around it. Very feminine, and very lovey. I even drew it on a fancier canvas after I was doing sketching to make it more authentic. I show Gunnar, who only stares at it.
"Here's what you're going to do. You're gonna go home with that and a bouquet of flowers. Don't get her roses, literally anything else. If she asks why, tell her roses are ordinary and she isn't. You're going to tell her you went for a walk in the French Quarter. A street artist was drawing a couple and you handed him her picture and asked for a portrait. When she asks why, you'll say something like even when I'm mad I can't stop thinking about you. Or something lovey like that. Melt her heart into pure goo," I instruct efficiently, and slowly, Gunnar grins broadly.
"This is genius," he looks at me gratefully. I nod, accepting his form of thank you.
"You're welcome. Go get back to your lady friend," I showed him toward his gigantic motorcycle, and he walked away grinning.
"Hey kid, see that wall over there?" Tool asks, pointing to the large black wall on the opposite side of the garage. It was plain, and darkened the room.
"Yes?"
"How would you feel about painting me a mural? If you're up to the challenge," he offers. I feel my smile split my face in half. Even Barney looked surprised that I was showing so much teeth.
"Are you serious?"
"It'll liven the place up. I should have everything you need for it," he starts to walk back to a storage room, and I follow eagerly.
As soon as everything is set up, I decide before I start to go shopping with Barney. Before I make a mess out of myself.
On the ride over, Barney gets a phone call.
"What's up Tool?" he answers while driving, making me a little nervous. I didn't like cars, let alone distracted drivers. Barney frowns suddenly.
"Oh. It's for you," he gives the phone to me and my brows furrow.
"Hello?"
"Hey darlin, I got someone here for you named Reagan?"
"Put her on," I say, eager to see how she's doing.
"You need to get yourself a goddamn phone, Arvelo. Jesus," she complains loudly into my ear. I laugh.
"Good morning sleeping beauty," I remark.
"What happened yesterday," she says in a more serious voice. I sigh.
"You know what. A lot of stupid decisions caught up to us."
"What happened to Wiley?" she asks. I pause, because I'm not sure what to say. I glance briefly at Barney, who's watching me from the corner of his eye.
"Um, well I assume he's out of the picture. I'll keep you posted," I glanced at Barney, who's politely ignoring me. But I can tell he's still listening to some degree.
"Hey, why don't you come back a while later and you can help me paint that wall. I'm out right now. I'll see you later," I hang up.
"Reagan?"
"Yea. She's pretty confused about everything I think. But she usually keeps her cool until I'm ready to explain," I tell Barney. He nods.
"So, is she your best friend?"
I scoff.
"I guess. The closest thing to it. We've hung around each other forever. She's the daughter of one of Gabe's poker friends. But she's kind of on her own as well." He nods once more.
We pull up to a light and stop, waiting for our turn.
"So where do you want to start? We could go to IKEA-" he starts, but is immediately interrupted when something slams into the back on his truck, launching us forward. Our airbags deploy, smashing our faces. Our light has just turned green, so there's no one to hit us in the middle of the intersection. Barney looks behind him wildly, concerned and pissed the hell off. But everything goes mute as my ears begin to ring. I shudder, and briefly, I stare straight forward into the intersection. I see my mother's dead body lying in the road, twisted and bloodied. The horrifying image brings unwelcome tears into my eyes. I want to get out and go to her. I fumble with my seatbelt while something pulls at my arm. But I don't see it. I just see my mom. I pull more at the seatbelt that remains stuck, and in my panic, begin to rip at it and try to escape. A sob escapes my throat as I continue to panic. From somewhere, I hear a man's distant voice.
"Brenna!" I look around, scared and confused. And then, the paralyzing vision fades and a blinding white light sears it's way across my vision. I clutch my temple in agony, and when I open my eyes once more, I'm back in Barney's truck. He has a hand on my arm, looking at me with intense concern.
"Brenna?" I realize instantly that he was the voice I was hearing, and I must've gone briefly into shock.
"I'm ok," I choke out, but my voice is hoarse from the tears that spill down my face in waterfalls. He frowns deeply, launching his way out of the truck. The car that hit us is behind us. I see two young teenage girls get out of the car, one crying. I hear one mention something about texting. I can see that Barney is pissed, more than pissed, and calls the police for the accident. I remain where I am for the entire situation. The cops arrive, and when they see that I'm still in the car, they come to the door. I roll down the window.
"You alright in there?" One asks hesitantly. Barney frowns.
"She's been in a bad car accident in the past, I think she may have some PTSD. And obviously a busted lip from the air bag, and whiplash," he turns and glares at the young girls who are speaking to another cop. They only look ashamed and sad. I feel bad for them.
"I'm ok. It was just an accident. I'm sure they've learned their lesson," I tell him weakly. He frowns, something I notice now he does more than anything when he's holding his tongue.
I raise my hand to pull down the mirror on the passenger side and watch my hand shake uncontrollably. I force down the mirror and look at my horrendous reflection. My lip is busted and bruised, my eyes are red and puffy, and my nose is swollen from the crying as well. I look pathetic. I slam the mirror up in anger. I shouldn't be this damn weak. She died two goddamn years ago.
Barney approaches the window.
"Want to explain to me what that was about?" He eyes me knowingly. I shrug.
"Probably texting their boyfriends or something."
"Not that. I mean your mini freak out. You were shouting at me to let you go, and trying to unbuckle your seatbelt. You went into full blown panic," he says dryly. I swallow as beads of sweat form on my brow.
"You know why," I whisper, looking away. I knead my forehead to ease an oncoming headache. Barney puts a hand awkwardly on my shoulder.
"Yea. I know. I'm sorry," he says gruffly, unsure on how to comfort me. I don't need the affection.
"I'm fine. We'll go shopping some other time, maybe." He nods and pulls out his phone, with sudden inspiration in his eyes. He walks away with purpose, and it has me questioning what he's doing.