Blessing Avenue: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Turns out it was at the strip mall right next to Maximum Effort, my favorite health food store. Serendipity! I was going to make a trip there anyway. "I'll be in there," I said. "When you're ready to go just come and get me." I didn't think all the vitamins and supplements would cause Joshua to spontaneously combust, but the fake suntan sprays might.

"Okay." Joshua slid out of the Jeep, and I watched him enter Candleworks before going over to Maximum Effort. I was immediately struck by three things. One was that the inside of the store was empty. As in “went out of business” empty! The second was the sign on the door which told me what I'd already figured out. Now I was going to have to break in a new place to fit my needs. Dammit! The third? Not as important, but I had another hit of deja vu. Must be a day for it, but I was too pissed to really give two fucks about it.

I growled deep in my throat as I stalked my way to Candleworks. If I was going to sulk, I was going to sulk with Joshua as he shopped. I don't waste my bad moods all alone. From the outside, Candleworks had curtains which obscured the doors and windows from window shoppers, and when I went in I was struck by the subtle scents of incense and a familiar brand of cologne—thick and overpowering. At first I couldn't believe it, but sure enough, I could see Keith at the counter ringing up a purchase. I took a moment to watch him in action, enjoying the play of his lean, muscular arms, baked by the sun to a nice golden brown. So what if he was liable to get skin cancer in ten years or less? He looked good now. Yeah, it was a shallow attitude to have, but I've learned in my young seventeen years that life was hard. It was best to live every day as if it were your last, because you really don't know when you're going to go.

"Hey there, big guy," Keith said as he finished up with the customer, who was some skinny kid I'd never seen before. I watched him as he passed me by to the exit. The kid had bleached blond hair, a shallow chest, and pipe cleaners for arms. I could feel the increase of heat on his cheeks as he took in the sight of me, but he kept his eyes on me when I caught him scoping me out. He might've had nothing in the body department, but he made up for it in guts. I gave him a brief nod before making my way towards Keith.

"What the hell happened to Maximum Effort?" He was in college, and if I were legal, I think I could easily seduce him regardless of his claims to be straight. Denial. Population of Keith.

"Ah, yeah. They closed us down this week, Israel. Sorry about that." I have no clue why Keith didn't use my nickname. Maybe he felt like calling me by my full name gave him some kind of superiority over me. Well, until he was able to bench press more than I could, that wasn't going to fly with me.

I scratched my shoulder. Had a sudden itch. Maybe I was allergic to all the New Age crap in this place. "I was there last Saturday. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"We didn't know until Monday. Corporate closed us down and gave us three days to move all the inventory to the warehouse."

"God dammit." Great, now my whole body was tingling. I must've been more pissed about the health store situation than I thought.

"I know, but I lucked out and managed to get a job here the next day."

I had to change the subject or else I was liable to bite Keith's head off, and that wouldn't have been polite. It wasn't his fault the place shut down. "Still studying to be a physical therapy trainer?" I thought Keith was cute in his attempts to be an "alpha dog", but if he only knew the truth about me...

"Yup, so if you ever get hurt working out, I can help you get back to your best." He flashed me a big grin, and I just had to shake my head at that. He was so into me, and he didn't realize it. Maybe he didn't want to be thought of as a chicken hawk, looking for young chicks. I really can't wait to hit the age of consent in a few months.

"The old personal touch, huh?" I leaned forward, folding my arms across the counter. I pretended not to notice his eyes move towards my biceps. I was wearing a tank top today—I absolutely will not call it a wife beater, what a stupid name—so my arms were in view for anyone to admire, especially college boys named Keith.

"Y-yeah," he said, taking a big swallow as if his mouth had suddenly run dry. I would've gone on like this for a while, but I was interrupted with the sudden arrival of Joshua, who had a small container that reeked of strawberries, whatever was in it; it was just like Keith's cologne—overpowering.

"That was fast," I said, turning away from Keith and folding my arms across my chest. I heard Keith sigh behind me, and I suppressed another smirk. Yeah, my next birthday was going to be interesting. "I thought you just wanted to see what they had in stock?"

Joshua's eyes flicked towards Keith as he made his purchase, then back to me. "They had something I wanted."

I looked over at Keith, giving him a wink. "That's my cue to get out of here, Keith. Take care." We left the place, and I drove Joshua over to his house.

The driveway was empty, which meant he was going to be all alone in that big Tudor-style house of his. I still couldn't believe Joshua's parents left him all that money in the trust fund, but it's not like they chose to die in that car wreck. The social services check up on him once a week and they're always amazed with how well he takes care of himself. Me, I can't believe they didn't ship him off to a foster home, but in the end it's none of my business. Even if I wished it could be my business. "Are you still coming over for dinner tomorrow?" I asked as Joshua was about to get out of my Jeep.

"I guess so, if your parents don't mind."

"My mom loves it when you come over," I said. "She thinks you're a good influence on me." The truth is she thinks it's good that I'm protecting what she considers my territory. My dad couldn't care less, since it doesn't concern him at all and he's a lazy bastard anyway.

"I guess I'll come," Joshua said, slowly closing the door as if afraid it'd break.

"All right, I'll see you tomorrow." I drove off, looking at Joshua's receding image in the rear view mirror. He was already entering his big, lonely house, and I felt a pang of envy for some reason. I wasn't sure why, but by the time I arrived at my house I had pushed it away from my mind. Even my itch was gone.

The place I lived in was formerly a compound, now converted to a palatial estate. My folks owned a vineyard, and they bought the compound at a nice price. I wasn't born at the time, but my older sister tells me it took three years to build the mansion we live in now. Dad says the place is the finest in Victorian architecture—the best money can buy. Not that you could see the place, as the entire front yard is covered with apple trees, fir trees, more apple trees, and the backyard has acres of thick forest. You'd think my family would have plenty of privacy, but they still put up a brick wall that surrounds the entire property. I punched in the code that made the automated gates slowly part, and I drove my jeep into my personal garage. Yes, my own personal garage—further proof they're doing their best to spoil me. Too bad for them it doesn't work, as I couldn't care less about my family's wealth.

I took the back entrance of the house, and the moment I stepped through the door I could smell dinner cooking, which meant Mom and Dad had another fight. Mom only cooked if she was royally pissed off, which was most of the time now. I walked into the kitchen to see what she was cooking, and was greeted by the sight of her petite figure working a squid half her size on the cutting board. Her platinum blond hair was tied up in a bun, and the dark lines of the hairnet couldn't keep a few wild strands from escaping down her forehead. "Hi, Mom, what's cooking tonight?"

"Spaghettini with squid," she said, pulling the tentacles away from the hood, the intestines following behind them, "in black ink." She started to remove the tentacles by cutting under the eyes with a wicked sharp knife. Leave it to Mom to look intimidating just by preparing food.

"That's...going to be interesting." I had to come up with a quick excuse, and fast. No way was I going to eat anything that had a sauce found in pens. "Wish I could be home to have some of it." I winced as she dug her fingers under the beak, popping it out like a zit. By the time she yanked out a transparent quill, my survival instinct was screaming at me to get out of the kitchen because I sure as hell couldn't take the heat of my Mom's anger.

"And just where do you think you're going, young man? It's a school night." She started cutting up the squid into thin slices, and I fought the urge to tell her the truth, that she was making me feel like I was three years old and afraid of the monsters in my closet. Mom and knives were not a good combination, not when she was angry.

"I'm going on patrol tonight; there's been a situation at the school." I prayed she wouldn't call me out on my lie, because even under normal situations it was hard enough to deal with my parents. When they were pissed at each other one or both tried to maneuver me over to their side. It's a wonder I'm not screwed up in the head.

Fortunately, I must've said the magic incantation, because Mom's face brightened into a sunny smile. "It's good that you're taking charge of the territory," she said, going back to slicing up the squid, which was starting to look unrecognizable by now.

"I try my best, Mom," I said, unwilling to make eye contact with the unblinking squid eye. "I just need to get dressed for it, and I'll be on my way."

"Go talk to your father first." The way she said it sounded more like she was using the other "F" word. "He wants to give you some more of his fatherly wisdom." Sarcastic much, Mom?

I shook my head, resigned to my fate. Dad was in the living room—or the "den" as he called it. It was a large room filled with books he never read and a fireplace we didn't need. There was a bear in the far corner, standing upright and ready to swipe at its victim, only the bear was stuffed and mounted. Dad claims he killed it when he was my age, but I think that's more of his "good old day" stories, which belonged in the same category as when he had to walk to school every day. Uphill. Uh huh. Sure, Dad.