Page 16 of Logan

“Oh, him.” The man pointed over his shoulder, nearly losing his balance in the process. “Yeah, over there.”

Then he wandered away from the door, as if completely forgetting I existed.

It wasn’t exactly an invitation to come in, but I’d take what I could get.

The door to Clay’s room was no better than the front door and gave little resistance as I pushed it open.

The room inside was small, made even smaller by a piece of plywood dividing it in half. At some point the plywood had been broken and patched back together with duct tape, so it stood in a jagged zigzag rather than a straight line. One side of the plywood was stuffed to the gills with junk. Old lawn chairs, pizza boxes, broken lamps, and even a collection of car parts were all tangledtogether. It looked more like a dumping ground than a place where someone actually lived.

The other side of the plywood was drastically sparse in comparison, holding only a mattress, a clothing rack, and a couple of crates. It was also blessedly occupied. Clay’s familiar figure sat on the mattress, curled into a ball with his arms around his knees as he leaned against the wall.

I couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not, so I knocked on the wall near the door to get his attention.

“Clay?”

Clay’s head shot up and he stared at me with wide, frantic eyes.

“What the hell?”

I barely had time to duck as he chucked something at my head. It flew by too fast for me to see what it was but based on the crashing sound I heard when it hit the wall, it wasn’t something I wanted making contact with my skull.

“Clay, wait.”

“I can’t believe you, bastard,” Clay screeched as he threw something else at me. “You actually followed me. Fuck off and get out!”

I ducked again and this time I stayed down in a crouched position, hoping it would make me seem less threatening.

“Clay, please. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But just hear me out first.”

“Why should I?”

He’d run out of things to throw at me and seemed to be contemplating whether he’d be able to pick up the clothing rack and wield it as a weapon.

“I’ll pay you.”

I’d blurted out the words before I could actually think about what I was saying, and I immediately wanted to slap myself. Yet, surprisingly, it was enough for Clay to calm down and stop plotting how to bash my brain in.

“What do you mean?”

It was the best response I’d gotten so far, so I rolled with it. “I’ll pay you for your time, and I won’t come near you, if you’ll just listen for a few minutes. All right?”

Clay eyed me up and down, and I noticed the side of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile. I probably looked ridiculous, sweaty and disheveled from my climb up the stairs, and crouched awkwardly on the floor like I was hiding from an incoming missile.

“How much?”

Quickly searching my wallet, I pulled out all the bills I had.

“A hundred bucks.”

I could see the wheels turning in his head as he eyed the cash.

Eventually making a decision, he kicked one of the milk crates over to me.

“Put the money in there, then slide it back over. And you stay on that side of the room. If you take one step toward me, we’re done.”

Following his orders, I handed over the money without moving my feet so much as an inch. I also stayed crouched. It was an uncomfortable position, but it seemed to help Clay feel more comfortable in my presence.

As soon as he had the cash in hand, he quickly counted the bills then stashed them under his pillow. The action reminded me of a squirrel burying nuts for winter, which shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was. If I’d had any more money on me, I would have handed it over just to watch him hide it again.

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