This is the closest thing to being finished, so here's a little more of the weird shit that keeps happening to Grant. It needs some work; this why I blog rough drafts.
I was stocking the cooler in the Vance Autobody waiting room when out of nowhere a hand reached in front of me. “Holy crap!” The can of soda in my hands dropped, clattering on the floor.
Ryder Vance popped the tab on the cola he had appropriated. “Just put that one in the back.”
Giving him an I-knew-that-already look, I grabbed the errant can. “What are you doing here so early?” I asked.
Ryder replied, “I’ve been full time since school ended,” strolling around the counter. "Restorations."
“Huh.” Still not great with small talk, I went back to my work. Two months remained until I could blow this joint and head down to Sedalia. Two years of community college, two or three more of real university, and I could pretend like I didn’t know this place even existed.
Ryder’s voice cut through my happy thoughts. “Do you ever fight back?”