Chasing Death by K.E. Lamont

Author:K.E. Lamont [Lamont, K.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2014-07-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

“Pain is never permanent.”

— Saint Teresa of Avila

Now

I found Derek propped against his truck, gripping a disc in his hands. I circled the lot twice, only to give up and make my own spot between a pine tree and a generator.

As I walked to his car, my nails inadvertently dug into my palm. I was terrible at apologizing; they came out too messy and forced. Maybe I just had too much pride. Derek had every right to be angry with me. But the closer I came toward him the more I saw fear, not anger. My feet stopped at his passenger door and my mouth opened preparing to slop out an apology.

“I know you didn’t mean it that way,” he said before I could utter a syllable.

“I didn’t mean it at all.”

Derek shook his head.

“I’m serious, Derek. I was stressed and yelling blindly at you. Sorry.”

My hands burrowed deeper into my jacket. It grew cooler and cooler every day, and I could tell that within a week or perhaps two, the city would be dusted in a soft white blanket.

“Either way, I forgive you.” His mouth tightened as he looked at me. For a moment, he looked younger. The white sky coated everyone in youth somehow. Noses and cheeks were pink and eyes whipped from the wind watered—the innocence was refreshing.

“Just forget about what I said. I get angry and throw daggers—unintentionally, of course.” I let my head lean against the cold window. “I’m a bitch.”

Derek looked confused. “A bitch? Good grief, Maree. You need take it easy on yourself.”

We stood there in silence. Derek clutched his CD and stared at me while I chewed on my lip and watched the trees bend in the wind. It felt like a century had passed before I spoke. “So, what about this footage?”

He glanced at the disc in his hand and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I definitely know the guy.”

As we drove, Derek explained what little he knew. The guy’s name was Nathaniel, but he went by Nat. He worked the weekends typically, tattooing and piercing for Bone Daddy’s Tattoo Parlor. It was known as a bridge between two crowds: the rough and the rich. The rent was insane because of its cozy downtown location. Squeezed between a cafe that charged $10 for a glass of water and a boutique that specialized in scarves, Bone Daddy’s not only survived, but also turned a decent profit.

According to Derek, Nat was tall and sported a Mohawk that changed colors weekly. He admitted he had liked Nat when they’d met. The car pulled to a stop outside a towering bank that glittered in the sun.

“I met him the time my girlfriend wanted to get a tattoo, a butterfly of all things. Literally, a butterfly. Anyway, Nat had done her first one, so she was all pumped for him to do it again. Long story short, we hung out there for a while until he was available. He seemed cool enough.

Wait… he had a girlfriend?

Derek killed the engine and a blue and red humming sign flashed in his windshield.

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