Everyone was at the winter formal.
I was at my desk.
Not in a sad way. I just didn't want to go, and I had things to think about.
* * *
I opened my notes app and looked at the number. Fifteen thousand. That's what I had saved. Between the Zen jobs, the channel starting to move, the Hellcat money. Fifteen thousand dollars sitting in two different accounts with my name on them.
I needed a Scat Pack.
A Challenger Scat Pack 392 -- 485 horsepower, widebody if I could get one, something I could actually build on. New off the lot was thirty-five, forty. That wasn't happening. But there were other ways.
I opened Facebook Marketplace.
* * *
First one I found was in Las Vegas. Clean title, 2019, low miles, listed at ten thousand. The price was wrong for what it was. Way too low.
I looked at the photos. Looked at the VIN in the windshield picture. Looked at the seller profile, which was three weeks old and had no other listings.
Stolen. Obviously.
I kept scrolling.
Second one was local. 2020, wrecked, front end gone, airbags deployed. Five thousand. The chassis was straight in the photos, which was the part that mattered. Engine looked untouched.
I sat back.
A stolen clean car and a wrecked local one. Swap the VINs. The wrecked one's plates and paperwork go on the Vegas car. Suddenly you have a clean, drivable Scat Pack with a legitimate-looking title for fifteen thousand all in, maybe less if I could talk the local guy down.
I looked at flights to Vegas. Thirty minutes. A hundred and twelve dollars round trip if I booked two days out.
I put the laptop down and looked at the ceiling.
Day after tomorrow, Vegas. Tomorrow, set everything up on the local end. Find a shop that wouldn't ask questions, line up the paperwork, figure out transport.
I had a plan.
* * *
That's when the sleep stopped working.
I was tired. I knew I was tired. My eyes were heavy and I kept losing the thread of whatever I was thinking, which should've meant I was about to go out. But every time I got close something else came up. A detail about the VIN swap. A question about the flight. Whether the local seller would negotiate. My brain just kept going, topic to topic, and sleep stayed right at the edge and wouldn't come in.
An hour passed. Then another.
I got up and got a glass of water. Came back. Lay down. Stared at the ceiling.
The house was completely quiet. Everyone still out.
I took a Xan.
* * *
It hit after about twenty minutes. That warm heavy feeling coming up from the back of my neck, my shoulders dropping, everything going a little slow. Sleep was right there. I could feel it.
And then my brain found something else to think about.
I don't even know what it was. Something small. Something that didn't matter. But it was enough to keep the door open and I lay there wobbly and tired and awake for another hour, the Xan doing its thing but not quite enough to shut everything down.
I gave up.
Got up, opened YouTube, put something on. Watched for three hours. Nothing specific. Just whatever came up next. My eyes were open but I wasn't really watching.
* * *
Somewhere around 3 AM I opened the laptop.
I had a beat I'd started a few weeks back and never finished. Slow, stripped down, not much to it. I'd left it sitting because I didn't know what it was supposed to be yet.
I looked at it for a minute. Then I reached under my bed and pulled out the guitar.
I hadn't touched it in months. The low E was slightly flat. I tuned it by ear, which took a few minutes, and then I just started playing over the beat. Nothing specific. Just whatever my hands found.
And then I started singing.
I don't know where it came from. I wasn't thinking about any girl exactly, or maybe she was life, just that specific feeling of giving something to someone and not getting the same thing back. Of wondering afterward if you were worth what you put in. I'd been carrying that for a while without a place to put it.
I played and sang and let it go where it went.
Then I stopped and went back to the laptop and started building the song around what I'd just done. Pulled the tempo down. Stripped out two of the drum layers. Brought the guitar in where it fit. Worked on it for two hours straight, which I didn't notice until I looked up and it was light outside.
* * *
6 AM.
I was finally tired enough that I could actually feel it in my bones, that deep worn-out feeling where your body stops asking and just tells you. But I had to hear the final version first. I hit play and leaned back in my chair with my eyes closed and listened.
Can't seem to find someone's shoulder
Who will I rely on when it's over?
Took a chance with you, it made me colder
Better on my own when it's all over
So when I'm weak, who do I call?
My God it hurts, I can't be calm
What do I do?
Do I run?
Tired of hate, tired of love
I've dug my nails into my arms
She turned and left with all my scars
What is my worth?
What is my worth?
Gave my love a piece of me
She put my heart beneath her feet
She turned and left the question, "What's my worth?"
Gave my love a piece of me
She put my heart beneath her feet
She turned and left the question, "What's my worth?"
My worth, my worth
I kept my eyes closed after it ended.
Didn't move for a minute.
Then I closed the laptop and lay down on my bed with my shoes still on and I was asleep before I could think of one more thing.
END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN