and scraggly shrubs about fifty feet from the side of the road and out of the ring of light supplied by the beams from the billboard. I dive out of sight just as the headlights swipe past me. I hold my breath, but the roar of a finely tuned engine continues down the road. That finely tuned engine belongs to the finely tuned body of the man currently sleeping about a hundred yards from me.
Oh my gosh, that was close. My heart barely has time to find a normal, relaxed beat when I hear the squealing of tires on asphalt. A quick peek through the greenery confirms my worst fear. The car’s backed up and stopped right in front of my hiding spot. The door to the Bugatti swings open and the quarterback god unfolds from the interior. Oxygen gets stuck in my lungs, from fear or the sight of him, who can say? But the lack of H2O to my brain is making me light-headed.
Cash moves to the pile of my supplies I dropped. He picks up the rolling paint brush and touches the business end gently with his index finger. The digit comes away wet with black paint. He drops the tool back onto the heap and glances up at my handiwork.
An owl hoots and something scurries against my leg. I swallow a shriek and try to adjust my position without making any noise.
The nosy quarterback pulls out his phone and shines the flashlight my direction. It’s dark where I am, so I stay hidden. After several long seconds, he gathers up my graffiti tools and loads them into the back of his overpriced vehicle. With one last glance toward the bushes, he gets in his car and drives away.
Well, crap. I should probably be flattered that he cares enough to confiscate those things, but at the moment all I feel is annoyance. I’ll have to replenish my supply. That stuff wasn’t cheap, and I’m a delinquent on a budget.
Twenty-Three
Cash
Every muscle in my body is screaming. Not a good sign since I just woke up and my feet haven’t even touched the ground. It’s nothing new, but it is getting old fast. I postpone getting up for several minutes.
But my need to piss requires me to get up sooner rather than later. I suck in a deep breath, then push to a sitting position. My vertebrae sound like the drumline at a high school football game. It’s a contagion of pops and snaps. The door seems really far away, so I think I’ll just sit for a minute more. The mystery of the billboard bandit’s supplies in the trunk of my car filters through my mind. Why would the person responsible for vandalizing Tiger’s image leave them behind like that? I have no idea.
Despite how my body aches, I did sleep well. I left the team party early and headed back to Ryder hoping to see Tiger, but she was gone. I’m embarrassed to say how disappointed I was by that turn of events. I waited for an hour, then went to bed.
My bladder makes it impossible to put off the inevitable, so I rise to my feet while my knees snap, crackle, and pop. Once I take care of business, I glance out the window but don’t see a light on at Tiger’s place.
Again, with the disappointment.
Did she spend the night somewhere else last night? Is she seeing someone? I never thought to ask. I don’t like the dark places that the idea of her sleeping in someone else’s bed takes me.
Not my business.
If I keep repeating it, maybe the concept will seep into my brain.
I brush my teeth and splash water on my face. My stomach growls with the ferociousness of a bear after hibernation. I wonder if it’s been long enough for my mom to forgive me and fix me breakfast. I haven’t spoken to her since she kicked me out. After another rumble from my belly, I figure I’ll take my chances. If she won’t let me in, then I’ll go to the B&B where Duke’s staying and have breakfast there.
I grab my keys and take another look at the pool house as I walk to my car. The ride to my mom’s is short—there’s very little traffic in Ryder at this time of the morning. I pull up to her place and see her car parked in the drive. That’s weird. Why isn’t she parked in the garage? Nan and Joe probably have