Alex, Approximately by Jenn Bennett

Author:Jenn Bennett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

“Love is the only thing that can save this poor creature.”

—Gene Wilder, Young Frankenstein (1974)

16

* * *

We load Baby in the back of Porter’s van. Except for the seat lock being popped, she seems to be in one piece. We found my helmet and all my stuff scattered behind the seat of Davy’s truck. We also found my scooter lock hanging off his tailgate; he’d removed it with industrial bolt cutters.

Turns out that one of the two people sitting with Davy when we first walked into the garage was a friend of Davy’s. Seeing how he was planning on helping Davy sell my scooter, I didn’t say anything to the guy, but Porter told him to drive Davy to the hospital. When they left, Davy could walk—barely—but he was going to need X-rays. And probably some pain medication, which was just lovely, considering what I now know about Davy’s history with drugs.

But after all that, Davy didn’t say one word to me. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye or acknowledge I was in the same room. Truth was, I couldn’t really face him, either. It was humiliating for both of us, I guess. And I’m pretty much in such a state of shock over the whole fight that I can barely speak.

When we’re ready to leave, Porter thanks Fast Mike, who advises me on a better-quality scooter lock. Turns out that his motorcycle garage isn’t a chop shop at all; he was seconds away from kicking Davy out before he got the phone call about Porter looking for my Vespa. So once again, my assumptions and I are completely off the mark. He says to Porter, “Tell your mama next time she wants to sell a bike like that, to come to me first. I’ll give her a good deal.”

“You got it,” Porter says, “We owe you big-time. You know anyone that needs a board, come by the shop.”

Fast Mike gives us a wave. We race through the rain and hop inside the van, and then we drive away. The windows are all fogging up, and I’m trying to help, looking for the switch to turn on the defrost, but my hands are shaking. I’m still freaked out. I can’t calm down. “The black button,” Porter says, and I finally find it. I turn the fan all the way up and try to concentrate on making the windshield clear instead of the fact that he’s still bleeding. It works until we come to the end of the dirt road.

“I think we should go see a doctor.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Pull over at the first store you see and I’ll get something to clean your wound.”

He cranes his neck and appraises the damage in the rearview mirror. Yep. Listen to the smart person in the vehicle. Instead of turning right on the paved road to head back home, he turns left. Should he even be driving? Davy did punch him in the head a few times. Or maybe he knows something I don’t.

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