The Feedstore Chronicles by Travis Erwin

Author:Travis Erwin [Erwin, Travis]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: TAG Publishing LLC
Published: 2011-12-01T04:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Darcy.

That was her name. Not Macy. Not Marcy. Doyle hadn’t even gotten the first letter correct, but to be fair, her mom did call her Darcy Marie and if the low cut blouse was an indication of Delinda’s usual attire, Doyle’s inability to hear properly in her presence was more than understandable.

Doyle had been correct about two things. One, Darcy was a cute girl. And two, she was morose. I suppose these days she would be described as Goth, or at the very least Emo, though neither of those terms had hit Amarillo, Texas, back in August of 1990. Darcy’s skin was pale and her hair jet black, but she was definitely her mother’s daughter. Darcy’s inheritance was easy to see even though her black Ramones t-shirt lacked the plunging neckline of Delinda’s.

When Doyle introduced me, Darcy offered up a bland, “Hey,” totally devoid of enthusiasm or emotion.

I smiled. Darcy didn’t return the gesture. Her mom asked me a few questions about school and work, which I answered while Darcy rolled her eyes.

After three or four minutes of small talk, the girl grabbed her purse off the coffee table and said, “I can’t take anymore of this. Let’s go if we’re going.”

“Be nice,” her mom said.

“You kids have fun!” Doyle called out as we exited the apartment. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t --”

Darcy slammed the door, cutting off his words. “Fuck off.”

“I hope you were talking to him,” I said.

“I can’t stand any of my mom’s boyfriends. They’re all pricks, but he may be the worst.”

“Doyle’s not all bad.”

“Easy for you to say. He’s not fucking your mom.”

Unsure how to respond, I led the way down the stairs and past the swimming pool. Heat radiated from the parking lot’s black asphalt making the splashes and squeals from the kids at the pool sound all the more inviting. Stopping alongside Doyle’s faded S-10 Chevy pickup, I dug his keys from my pocket.

Darcy sighed. “We have to go in his piece of shit?” She arched a brow and shot me a disdainful look. “What, can’t afford a ride of your own?”

Up in the apartment, for a few, all-too-brief seconds, I thought maybe the date was going to turn out better than I’d imagined. Discovering Doyle had been right about Darcy being cute had been a pleasant surprise, but I was fast learning that while beauty was only skin deep, ugly went to the bone. And Darcy made no attempt to cover her skeletal structure.

Without looking at her I said, “I have a truck all right, but Doyle was afraid I’d dump you out at the first street corner and go my merry way if I drove my own vehicle.”

I unlocked and opened the passenger door. Not as an act of chivalry, but because the driver’s door was busted and only the inside latch worked. Reaching across, I pushed open the driver’s door before standing aside to let Darcy sit.

“The air-conditioner in this thing better work.”

The truck didn’t actually have A/C, but I shut her door without relaying that info.

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