The Junkyard Boys (4 page)

“Holy shit, Range. You are never going to believe the bullshit that’s going on. I mean, I have a major problem you are not going to believe.”

After years of witnessing Drama have these outbursts when he considered something ‘major,’ I never rose to the bait until I actually heard the whole story. In the beginning, I would get so agitated, locked and loaded, ready to rush out the door to help one of my best friends get out of any situation, no matter what it was, only to find out it was something trivial. Like when he accidentally left his fucking “special” coffee mug at some chick’s house he was fucking for the night. We constantly reminded him about leading in with this sort of bullshit, but of course he wouldn’t be Drama if he did.

“What the fuck are you doing here so early? I thought you had a meeting downtown to discuss that property that’s coming up for sale.”

“I have plenty of time. It’s not until this afternoon, but anyway, you are never going to believe what’s happening.”

Drama was a contractor who restored old, abandoned properties, then sold them at a profit. The junkyard also benefited from his business by buying any copper, steel, brass, or anything else we could find in those old houses before the renovations started. Together we’ve been able to turn a serious profit for both his business and the yard.

“Mother and Aunt Enid want me to take them to some fucking flower tea festival next month at the country club. Can you believe that shit? I mean, what the fuck do I look like, going to some old bitch tea festival?”

This right here was how Sebastian became one of Buck’s boys. Sebastian was raised by his mother, who, don’t get me wrong, was a wonderful woman, and his great Aunt Enid, who was a spinster for all intents and purposes. He was raised to be a proper son, only wearing bow ties, loafers, khakis, with a slicked-back hairdo. That look didn’t go over so well with the kids in our school, and Sebastian was getting his ass kicked daily. One day, I walked up to the side of the parking lot at school and found him surrounded by three larger boys from our grade, taking a beating. I jumped in and scared their asses off. Sebastian ended up following me that afternoon all the way to Buck’s. Of course, Buck took one look at the battered boy and simply said, “Bring him back tomorrow.” After many tomorrows under Buck’s guidance, Sebastian grew to be a strong and capable man, even though often times the drama still remained.

“So, what’s wrong with taking them to the country club? It’s not like they asked you to take them on an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii or something.”

“Really, Range? The fucking country club? It’s full of old ladies with flower hats that smell funny. I’m not doing it. Fuck that. No fucking way! And what the fuck is that screeching noise? Is Buck here with Pussy?

Laughing quietly, I answered him

“No, Maxwell’s back from his trip, and from the sounds and smell I would say he has company.”

The door to Maxwell’s bedroom opened and out walked a fully dressed Marci—or should I say, slinked out. Marci, the skank to end all skanks. She didn’t even bother to fix her hair and makeup like the slut she was, making her way over to Drama and I with a smirk on her face and not a hint of modesty whatsoever. I couldn’t believe I actually fucked this bitch once mainly because she was number one on my revenge list.

“Hey, Range. Looking good. You been working out?”

She raised her slimy finger and ran it across my chest while she got an eye-full and smiled her appreciation.

“No. And take your nasty-ass fingers off me.”

She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and put her hands on her hips to show mock offence.

“Why so hostile, Range? You used to like it when I touched you.”

This bitch was such a whore. I didn’t feel one ounce of remorse as I stared her down and replied to her comment.

“Bitch, I fucked you one time years ago, and if I recall correctly, I had to fuck you in your ass ‘cause your pussy was so loose. I didn’t let you touch me then and you sure as fuck ain’t touching me now. You got what you came for, so get the fuck out and do yourself a favor when you get home and take a shower. You smell like rotten fish guts.”

That certainly got the response I was hoping for when Marci grabbed her shoes and purse, cursing all the way to the door and out to her car. I couldn’t care less that she was upset. Maybe next time she’d keep her nasty hands to herself. I didn’t fault Maxwell for fucking her. She was an easy piece and always down for a good time. You never had to take her out or spend money, and she always said yes. Maxwell wasn’t the type to spend a lot of time and energy chasing pussy. Hell, most of the time, the women would drop to their knees as soon as he opened his mouth. Max was too easy-going to get mixed up in a bunch of drama and lived his life by one motto: Fuck it. If it didn’t suit his needs, he would always reply, “Fuck it,” and just move on.

No, Marci was not the type of girl for me. She didn’t smell like candy, nor did she have eyes that could hypnotize you at a glance. She wasn’t a sad-faced girl who worked at Fosters’ and walked home at night in the dark, unless she was looking to pick someone up. She would never be the woman I wanted to call mine.

I snapped out of my reverie to see Drama standing next to me, shaking his head at my little outburst.

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“You know, you shouldn’t get so upset. I heard somewhere that even people our age can have heart attacks. My mother told me once about this woman…”

Before he got on a roll with more of his dramatic bullshit, I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

“Look, when Max comes out, tell him I’m in the yard. I’ll talk to you later. I have to get to work. And don’t worry about the tea party. It’s just a couple of hours. You can handle it.”

With those final words of encouragement I set about my day of fun in the junkyard, all the while thinking about Clover and hoping like hell she made it home safe tonight.

Clover

I took a quick look at the clock and noticed it was close to quitting time. The Fosters and I worked hard all day trying to complete the truffle order for tomorrow’s delivery. I glanced at our workstation and realized we were no way near completing the order. I would probably have to work late to help out. Right on cue, as if she was reading my mind, Mrs. Foster spoke up and asked the question I’d known was coming.

“Clover, do you mind staying for an extra couple of hours overtime? We could really use your help. I promise it won’t be too much longer.”

Of course I was going to say yes. I mean, what else did I have to do on a Friday night? I had no friends, no car, and certainly no date. Working late would also bring me one step closer to my goal of owning my own car, so it was definitely a no-brainer.

“Of course, Mrs. Foster. I would love to stay and help out.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, dear. I certainly do appreciate that.”

She gave me a warm smile and a light pat on the arm, but she looked like she had something else on her mind but wasn’t sure how to approach it.

“Is everything ok, Mrs. Foster?”

“Yes, dear, everything is fine. We just couldn’t help but notice that you had an escort to work today. I wasn’t aware you knew Range Reardon.”

What a sly old lady she was. I didn’t even think she’d noticed Range walk me to the door after my little meltdown. I realized I was going to have to watch these two more carefully. Mr. Foster was busy wiping down the work area, trying to look like he was not at all interested in my answer, but I was so onto him as well.

“Well, I don’t really know him. We just met today when I jumped him.”

The last part of my answer was said so low that Mrs. Foster had to lean in a little to try and hear what I was saying.

“I’m sorry. Did you say you jumped him, dear?”

Oh, boy, here we go
. It was bad enough I actually did that stupid shit in the first place. Now, I was going to have to try and explain my actions to these two lovely people.

“Yes, you see, when I was walking to work, a spider the size of Arizona was on my arm and I kind of had a panic attack and jumped on his back. It was the only way. That thing was trying to kill me.”

I knew from the expression on her face that Mrs. Foster was attempting to hold back a smile at my rendition of this afternoon’s events, but she was failing miserably. Mr. Foster wasn’t much better, so he just turned and walked to the front of the store like he was looking for something important he needed right at that moment.

“Well, since it was life or death, I suppose you couldn’t have picked a better person to jump than Range, dear.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Foster.”

“Oh, come on, dear. I know you had to see how handsome that man is. I mean, those muscles and that tanned skin. Good lord, if I were twenty years younger, I would consider jumping him myself.”

Mr. Foster decided to give his two cents on that matter on the way back from the front of the store.

“Don’t you mean forty years younger, honey?”

“Oh, hush up. You know what I meant.”

While Mrs. Foster was busy glaring at her husband after his keen observation about his wife’s age, I couldn’t help but think about what she’s said. Of course I thought Range was extremely handsome with his beautiful hair blowing in the wind and his strong arms holding me close. What red-blooded girl wouldn’t get hot for a man like him? But he certainly wouldn’t see anything appealing about a girl like me. It wasn’t that I was not hip with the times or anything, but my life was so boring there was no way he would be interested. I was sure the last thing he wanted was a girl who spent her weekends watching American movie classics until she fell asleep.

I was so deep in thought, I didn’t realize the age argument was over and the room had gone quiet. I looked over to see the Fosters staring at me with keen interest.

“I guess you’re right, Mrs. Foster, but it’s unlikely I’ll see him again. I mean, let’s face it. If it weren’t for my little bug problem, I probably would never have met him in the first place.”

“Oh, hogwash, dear. Of course you would have. He owns the laundromat next door.”

Surely, I’d heard her wrong, so like the idiot I was, I just shook my head.

“No way, really?”

“Sure does. Bought it about a year ago. He also runs Buck’s Junkyard across town. He and a few of his friends took over the place when Buck decided to retire. He treated those boys like his own sons, always buying them things and showing them how to fish and hunt. You name it, Buck taught them all how to do it. Yeah, he treated those boys real good, which was a good thing considering most of their parents never gave a shit, pardon my French.”

Wow, what an interesting story. It was hard to imagine someone so young having so much responsibility. I’d assumed he’d been heading to the tattoo parlor, considering he hadn’t carried a bag of laundry to wash and I’d never seen him in the store. How wrong I had been. I had so many questions floating around in my head, but it just didn’t feel right to press Mrs. Foster for more answers. Of all the things I was most curious about, was why a young man would want to purchase a laundromat. I mean, he could have purchased a strip club, which would have fit right in with the tattoo parlor crowd next door. Surely, that was a better option considering. Range certainly was a mystery I wouldn’t mind solving, but it was just going to have to wait. I hadn’t felt excited about a man in so long, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Right at that moment I felt like a child receiving her first Barbie doll. I wanted to play with it, take its clothes off, see how far I could bend its legs back before they snapped. Range created an excitement I thought was long gone, considering I hadn’t been on a date in ages. Maybe boring Clover wasn’t immune after all and this was just what I needed to get myself back in the game.

Range

Holy shit, what a long fucking day in the yard. I couldn’t wait to get to the house so I could wash this grime off my body. Of course, I was never as dirty as I felt, but I always ended up scrubbing my skin like I spent the day hauling bags of dog shit around.

As soon as I hit the door, I spotted Maxwell at the kitchen stove with a potholder in one hand and a frying pan in the other, cooking what looked like to be eggs. He had his back to me, but I was sure he’d heard me come inside, which was confirmed when he turned around and gave me the evil eye.

“I hear you gave Marci shit again today. What’s your problem with her anyway? It’s not like you didn’t fuck her first. Or maybe that is the problem? You want her again? You know I don’t mind sharing.”

I was going to choke the shit out of Drama for running his fucking mouth. Max knew I hated that bitch ‘cause she was a skanky whore and nothing else. I didn’t care if he fucked her here. It was as much his house as it was the rest of ours, but this topic was getting old. He knew why I’d fucked her that one time during high school, and he certainly had no room to judge me for my decisions.

“Look, Max, we’ve had this discussion before. I wouldn’t fuck that bitch again with someone else’s dick. If that’s what you like, then by all means, do her. But don’t expect me to treat her any other way than like the cunt she is.”

Max let out a heavy sigh and stared at me with understanding in his eyes. He knew not to push this issue any further, and like with most things he was probably saying ‘fuck it’ in his head.

“Yeah, ok, man. I understand. I just needed a quick fuck, and you know Marci will let me do whatever I want to her and never complains. If she weren’t such a trick-ass bitch, she would be the prefect Mrs. Maxwell O’Neill.”

“Yeah, right. Like your ass is ever getting married. First, you would have to stop all of your extracurricular activities you got going on. I’m sure your future wife wouldn’t appreciate some of the shit you’re into.”

“Yeah, well, fuck it. Go take your ass to the shower, you primping bitch. And don’t forget to wash behind your ears.”

Max gave me a quick fist bump, and I made my way upstairs to my bedroom, ripping my clothes off with each step. I turned on the hot water without bothering to check the temperature, since scalding was always what I aimed for. I stepped under the hot spray and immediately felt the relief I’d been looking for. Maxwell and Drama were my very best friends and I hated fighting with them over trivial bullshit. We all had our demons we were trying to fight. Some were harder than others. I just couldn’t help but think that when it came to women, we were never going to find the perfect one. The one who made your dick hard as soon as she stepped into a room; the one who brought light to this fucked-up world; the one who loved you for who you were and who you wanted to be. I refused to believe that the only option was to end up with a woman like Marci to call my own. No, there was another option out there, and I knew exactly where to find her.