Read Online Monkey Wrench by Terri Thayer - Free Book Online Page A

didn’t struggle with his impulses. “Did you get out okay?”
    “I did.” I got out of the spotlight in the quickest way I knew how. “Turns out Vangie’s friend was the one leading the demonstration. Wyatt got on Twitter and called for the students to protest the drug bust. Down with the pigs and all that. I got out of there before it got too crazy.”
    “I’m glad. Is Vangie still there?”
    “As far as I know.” I pushed him. “Buster, what if she gets herself arrested?”
    “Don’t worry. No one was booked. The uniforms pulled a few kids into their cars, but mostly to shake up the group, make them lose momentum.”
    That didn’t soothe me much. “But what if Vangie is caught around drugs?”
    “She’s a grownup, Dew. She knows the consequences. She’ll be careful.”
    I wished I was as sure as he was.
    I heard someone calling, “Healy, you’re up.”
    “Gotta go,” he said. “I love you bunches. You get a good night’s sleep cause as soon as this is over, I’m going to …”
    His promise trailed off and I heard male voices getting closer.
    “You’re going to what?” I said, lightly. Buster would never be inappropriate at work, but I liked to test his resolve. “Would you please be more specific?”
    “Can’t. I will say this. I won’t fall asleep this time. ”
    I giggled and hung up.
    I leaned back against the pillow. Buster was right. I had to let Vangie make her own mistakes. She’d be fine.

Five
    My phone rang. I pulled myself out of a deep sleep. I knew the ring, but could only think that it wasn’t Buster’s. I flung a hand on his sheets. Cold and empty. He was still working. I tried to open my eyes but succeeded only partway. They felt glued shut.
    I unlocked the phone and muttered something. My mouth didn’t want to open wide enough to actually utter a coherent sound.
    The person on the other end was having trouble speaking too. I heard guttural noises but nothing I could make sense of.
    “What?” I said. “Who is this?” I pulled the phone away but my eyes wouldn’t focus on the name on the screen. I put it back to my ear.
    “Dewey,” I heard. My throat closed up. This was not a random wrong number or drunk dial. That was Vangie’s ring.
    “Dewey, I need some help.” The voice got a little stronger.
    I turned on a light.
    “Vang …” I said loudly. “Are you okay?”
    “Can you come here?” she asked, her voice so low and icy cold, I shivered and pulled the covers up higher. The sick to my stomach feeling doubled. I rubbed my belly to soothe myself.
    “Where are you, Vang? What’s going on?”
    “My car … Wyatt …”
    “Did you have an accident? Are you okay?”
    “I’m okay. But I need you to come. We’re … I’m at Tenth and St. James Street. You’ll see my car.”
    “Hang on. I’ll be right there.”
    I tossed on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt over my tank top. My fingers hovered over the keyboard of my phone, starting to text Buster to tell him where I was going. But if I told him, and Vangie’s trouble was drugs, he would have no choice but to report her.
    He wasn’t going to be home tonight. He’d never know.
    I grabbed an antacid on the way through the kitchen. I knew the pit in my stomach had no physical reason but I needed relief.
    ———
    Vangie was sitting on the curb, her head hung low. Her face was hidden by her curls. She didn’t look up. Her car, a fifteen-year-old Chevy Caprice was parked in front of her, the passenger door open, the interior light on. I pulled in behind her.
    I approached from the street side and looked inside the car. The keys, dangling from the ignition, caught the streetlight.
    Wyatt was slumped in the passenger seat, his dreads spread across the headrest. He wasn’t moving.
    I ran to Vangie, grabbing her chin, making her look at me. Her face was wet. She wasn’t crying now.
    “Are you okay?”
    Her eyes fluttered shut. I squeezed and she looked at me, squinting as if it hurt to fully open her