I invent work for myself by cleaning up the house. It’s mindless and nearly pleasant. Anything to avoid thinking about Oz. Every strange sound makes me recoil though. I’m always afraid it’s him. And in a sick way I hope it is him.
Finally the crew departs. I linger on the front porch with the lights off, listening to the fading sound of the two trucks heading toward Consequences.
Montgomery lumbers up to the house with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle in the other. He pauses and takes a drag on the cigarette while squinting at the fading light in the western sky. It looks like he’s already made some progress on the bottle.
“Where’s your fan club?”
He shrugs. “Gone hours ago. That bitchy photographer had some ideas but I couldn’t get excited about the idea of more of my dick pics floating around the world wide web so I passed on that.”
“Charming,” I mutter.
“You asked,” he yawns.
“I guess I did. Anyway, there’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
Monty doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move either. He just stands there puffing on his cigarette while staring into the distance. After a full minute of silence he tilts his bottle in my direction. At first I shake my head but then I take it and cough back a mouthful of liquid fire. Whiskey.
When I can see straight again I realize Monty is watching me. “I thought he was an asshole then,” he says. “I still think so.”
“Oscar?”
“Oscar. Oz. Whatever.”
“Well, I guess score one for you being right then.”
“I don’t give a shit about being right. But maybe just because he’s an asshole doesn’t mean he’s a dickhead.”
“Monty Savage Reasoning at its finest.”
“Just saying, if he wanted to really fuck up your life he had his chance.”
“Cameras are still around,” I grumble. “He’ll get more chances.”
“No he won’t.”
I’m curious now. “Why?”
“Because he’s leaving, Ren.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
OZ
Fuck it all. I’m done.
The way we are with each other, it’s nothing but toxic.
In the afternoon I take a long hike and it’s while I’m among the lizards and the snakes that I think about every word Ren and I have exchanged since I got here. However hostile she is to me, I manage to one up her every time. I can’t seem to help it.
Every day I’m becoming a worse version of myself.
Did I come here to mess with her head? Or did I come here because despite the pain of the past and the silence of five years I still had some hope? That maybe with one look we would find our way back to those two kids who connected so strongly, loved so hard.
I don’t know the answer. I never did. This has been one massive fool’s errand. The whim is over now. Loren Savage and I are strangers. Oscar Savage never existed. It’s time for me to duck out of this fantasy and return to the world of Oz Acevedo.
Evening is well underway by the time I get back. The minute I see Atlantis again I know what I need to do. Once I’m in my room I’m practically kicking shit around from one side of the floor to the other in my haste to pack. It doesn’t seem important that I’ve left the door open until Monty regards it an invitation to park himself in the frame and blow cigarette smoke into the room.
“Why don’t you take your temper tantrum somewhere that doesn’t share a wall with me?”
“Fuck you, Monty.”
“Fuck me,” he chuckles and inwardly I groan because I can tell where this is headed and at the moment I don’t feel like being locked in mortal combat with this jackass.
I drop a duffel bag on the floor and meet his eye. “You want to do this in here or outside?”
“Don’t look so terrified, Mr. Oz. At the moment I’m not excited about cutting up my knuckles on your face.”
“Lucky me,” I mutter, picking up the duffel bag and zipping it shut.
Monty continues to smoke. He leans against the doorjamb, all puffed up with big ideas about his cocky ass. He’s insane if he thinks he could take me down, especially right now. Right now I feel like I could punch my way through six feet of cinderblock before it would sting. I hate the smell of cigarettes.
“You know, Oz, I keep trying and I just can’t figure out what the hell your end game is.”
“Well, you keep on figuring. You can even send me a postcard when you reach a conclusion.”
His tone gets darker. “I think you’re actually just biding your time, waiting for the right moment when you can hurt her the most.”
“God, you’re smart, Monty. That’s exactly what I’m fucking doing. That’s why I’m packing up all my shit and getting myself hell and gone from you people and your sick reality.”
Monty has no answer for that. He doesn’t leave right away either though, so I just keep packing, breathing out of my mouth so I don’t have to smell his disgusting smoke. After I zip the duffel bag closed I notice he’s finally gone. A second later I hear the front door. Good. With any luck I can get out of here without running into him again. Him, or any of the other Savages. If Vogel Productions wants to chase after me for breach of contract or whatever those people call it, best of luck to them.
I throw two hastily packed bags over my shoulder and head for my truck. It’s parked about twenty yards away, all by itself. I toss the bags into the back bed and slam the door. I think I heard the crew truck taking off a little while ago, which is a good thing because I’m not too excited about explaining myself to anyone right now. There’s an acrid, smoky taste in the air. A fire burns somewhere up north, sparked in the dense forests surrounding Flagstaff. I hear that the season has been dry, meaning any fire will spread quickly. Not down here though. There’s not much in the way of brush so when fires start they don’t burn for long.
There are just a few more things I need to grab and then I’ll be out of here. It’s quiet, no one in sight, so I should be able to make a clean exit. Now that I’m thinking about it, instead of heading back home straight away I’d rather take a detour for a week or two. Someplace cold. Someplace that looks nothing like the barren wastelands of the Sonoran desert. Montana sounds good. I’ve always been meaning to go see Glacier National Park. This is a perfect time for a fresh odyssey.
So why is there a gnawing hole in my chest right now? Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up somewhere else. I’ve spent five years troubled by the idea of what would happen if I ever saw Ren again. Now I know. And the answer is nothing. Nothing good, anyway.
Yes. At least now I know.
Once I’m back in the house I spend a few minutes snatching up the rest of my crap. There wasn’t much to begin with. And if there’s anything I’m forgetting it’s either replaceable or not worth having in the first place.
After some quick searches on my phone I calculate that I can be in Montana the day after tomorrow, especially if I push through and drive until morning. I’m so keyed up, I bet I’ll end up doing exactly that.
When I return to the truck I stop in my tracks for a second because something that looks just like Loren Savage is sitting in the passenger seat. She doesn’t turn her head even though with the window open she must realize I’m ten feet away. She just sits there all statue-like, not even blinking. Her long dark hair falls over her shoulders, grazing the swell of her breasts.
I open the driver’s side door and climb inside even though I almost can’t stand being this close to her. “Hey, you lost?”