Chapter 8

  Uninvited Pest

  Later that day, Scott and Aaron meet up for their weekly decompression session at their local brewery. It’s lively for a school night, laughter fills the room, glasses clinking, but a welcome distraction for the two worn-out men.

  Aaron looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Scott looks like he’s been through hell. His hair’s a mess, stubble uneven, and there’s a faint wildness in his eyes, like someone who barely made it out of a family reunion.

  They sit in silence with their beers, soldiers in the trenches.

  Occasionally they take sips of their beer and stare blankly at the television hung above the bar.

  “What lunatic would want to make a macaroni and cheese dessert?” Aaron suddenly blurts out. “This meeting is going to be a disaster, man. Not even the great Billy May’s could sell this shit.”

  He shakes his head and downs half his beer in one swig. “And guess who gets to wear the sombrero of shame in front of the board?”

  Scott takes a slow sip of his beer and gives his friend a sympathetic look. “I think you could pull off a sombrero. It could help sell your pitch.”

  “I was being sarcastic, dumbass,” Aaron says smirking.

  “You’ll be fine. Hell, I’ll even go in there with you if it—”

  “Sorry to interrupt. Is this seat taken?” comes a voice from behind them.

  They both turn. It takes Scott a second to recognize the face, but then it clicks.

  Cal.

  “Scott, I thought I would find you here!” Cal says, grinning from ear to ear.

  “You know this stalker?” Aaron looks at Scott.

  “Yeah! Well—kinda. I mean, Aaron, this is Cal, we met at the gym. Cal, this is Aaron.”

  Aaron squints his eyes at Scott. “You were at the gym?”

  “Hey there, nice to meet you.” Cal slaps Aaron on the back of the shoulder in greeting, making Aaron spill some of his beer.

  “Jesus, are your hands made of granite?”

  “Sorry about that, bit of a gym rat. I don’t know my own strength sometimes. Ain’t that right, Scotty?” Cal says with a chuckle, like he’s sharing an inside joke between them.

  He grabs an empty stool and plants it between them.

  “Hope you guys don’t mind.” Scott looks at Aaron apologetically. Aaron looks at Scott with a look of curiosity and annoyance. They reluctantly move apart, giving Cal space to sit in the middle.

  Scott’s stomach growls like a puppy spotting a threat.

  Easy stomach. He’s just a muscle head trying to flex. Some gym freaks are like that. Right?

  “Appreciate it, gents. So, what’s the word around town?”

  Just as Scott opens his mouth, the bartender approaches them.

  “One oatmeal stout, one heff, and one double IPA for me. Thanks, bud!” Cal says as if he’s known the guy for years.

  “How’d you know our orders?” Aaron asks.

  “I got a sixth sense about these things. And I know Scotty boy here needs something a little lighter to warm up. Not the first time, right?” Cal asks nudging Scott in the rib.

  “Haha…yeah, right.” Scott quickly takes a long drawn out swig from his beer.

  “Right. So Cal, what do you do? Y’know, besides slapping tree trunks and lifting weights,” Aaron asks, accepting his beer from the bartender with a nod.

  “Oh, you know. I do odd jobs here and there. I usually do volunteer work. I find how needs the most help that day, and that’s where I go.” Cal says, smiling.

  “Volunteer work? You didn’t strike me as the type. Where do you volunteer exactly?” Aaron asks.

  “Ah I go to different spots everyday. Usually I found who needs the most help, and that’s where I’ll go for the day. It’s kind of how I found Scotty here.” Cal nods his head in Scott’s direction and winks at Aaron.

  “Right. Well maybe you can help out our ‘Scotty’ boy a little more. He thinks the world is out to get him.”

  “Is that so?” Cal turns to Scott. “The big man upstairs giving you a hard time?”

  “I mean… I’ve had a few strings of bad luck,” Scott says, trying to wave it off.

  Aaron quickly responds, “Bad luck? You were almost hit by a car, and you almost choked to death. I didn’t believe you at first, but now? I’m not so sure. Just try not to rub any of it off on me, at least not till after this meeting.”

  “Oh, right! Mac and Cheese Pie!” Cal grins. “You should try pitching it like an exotic southern dish. People’ll eat that up, literally and figuratively.” He laughs.

  “Wait… How do you know—” Aaron begins.

  “Sorry,” Cal interrupts. “ I was eavesdropping a bit before I came over. Didn’t mean to share top secret information.”

  “Do you normally listen in—“ Aaron begins again.

  “Nah, all good, man. We appreciate the suggestion.” Scott cuts in quickly

  “Do you normally lis—“ Aaron tries once more.

  “We have to get going,” Scott says, standing. Aaron throws his hands up in defeat. “Thanks for the beers, though, and it was good seeing you again, Cal. I’ll catch you at the gym.”

  Aaron follows. “Yeah, thanks for the beers, man. I’ll be sure to ship you a box of Mac and Cheese’d Cake. Good luck with…whatever it is you do,” he adds with a smirk. Scott glares at him. Aaron just grins.

  “Sure, guys, I’ll see you around,” Cal says, his big welcoming smile stuck in place, the subtle yellow in his eyes returning.

  “Oh Scott.” Cal calls after them.

  They both turn.

  “Be careful brother. If you ever need a gym buddy, just know I’m always around.” He says with a small nod and a smirk.

  Scott gives him a small smile and they turn around and exit the bar.

  “Dude, you’re gonna have to tell me how you met that guy.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Great, watercooler talk, I love it. The guy never even grabbed his beer, though. And I swear they turned on the heater as soon as he sat down. Glad you pulled us out of there, I can feel the sweat dripping down my ass crack.”

  “First of all, gross. But yeah… he seems like a decent guy. But… I don’t know, my gut is telling me something.”

  They glance through the window at the bar.

  Cal is still watching them. That same damn look plastered on his face.

  A shiver runs down Scott's spine.

  That dude gives me uncanny valley vibes.

  They turn back around.

  “Good luck to both of us tomorrow,” Cal says under his breath.

  His smile fades.

  He slowly turns to face the bar, and stares straight ahead at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. His reflection vibrates, subtly.

  “What was up with that guy?” Aaron asks as they walk down the street feeling the cold night air.

  “I got a free three month trial at the gym.” Scott says. “Figured I’d try it out. He actually saved me from getting my face flattened by a barbell.”

  “Yeah, well, he gives me the creeps. That stare?” Aaron shivers. “Just...watch your back, alright? There’s something off about him.”

  They reach Aaron’s car. He unlocks it with a beep. “Want a ride?”

  Scott glances down the dark street, and back at the car. Thanks, but you live on the opposite side of town. Plus gotta add some steps on this already shredded physique.” He gives a little flex of his bicep.

  Aaron laughs. He gets in and pulls the door shut. “You sure? I honestly don’t mind.”

  Scott looks at the car, contemplating then says. “Yeah I appreciate it. But I don’t want to put you out, I think the walk will be good for me anyway.”

  “Alright man. I’ll catch you tomorrow, bright and early. Be safe brother.” Aaron drives off and gives a few quick taps of his horn.

  Scott watches the taillights fade, his smirk lingering for a moment before fading too. He turns down the street toward his apartment. Hands in his pockets. Breath fogging in the air.

  The city feels darker than usual. Emptier. He could be the last person alive, the way his footsteps echo. Just the sound of his shoes on concrete. Nothing else.

  He rounds the corner—

  A figure slams into him, sending him flailing into an alley. He hits the wall with a bone-jarring thud. The air punches out of his lungs. Then a fist connects with his eye, his head ricocheting off the wall.

  Stars. Blur.

  “Give me your fucking wallet and phone.” Another blow, this time to the gut. He folds, gasping. The mugger rifles through his pockets, snatches his wallet, and bolts into the dark.

  Scott slides down the wall hitting the ground with a grunt.

  Fingers trace the back of his head.

  Warm. Wet.

  Blood.

  “...Should’ve taken the ride.” he mutters, wincing. He leans his head back against the wall, eyes closed.

  But, you know me. Can’t stand feeling like a burden.