Page 63 of All the Ways You Save Me
I really ought to do something special for Jason, and the thought makes me a little emotional. It’s not just about thanking him for this job, it’s all the support he’s given me over our friendship, and especially this past year. Who just moves their homeless friend in with them? I can’t begin to imagine where I’d be if he hadn’t.
Screwed. That’s where I’d be.
I wouldn’t be dating Madeline, and I definitely wouldn’t have any kind of future ahead of me. What kind of gift do you give someone to saythanks for saving my life? I’m still mulling it over when the garage door opens and Jason bursts into the room.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask, ducking my head so he doesn’t see the tears brimming in my eyes.
He flops down on the couch next to me, and it takes me a minute to notice that he’s breathing hard, panting like he just ran up a hill. Or wait—no. I study him as a low moan vibrates in his chest. He’s not panting. He’scrying. His shoulders are shaking, head bent as he sobs into his hands.
I stare helplessly. “What happened? Are you okay?” My shoulders stiffen, and my thoughts go wild. “Is it your parents?”
“I am so fucked,” Jason stutters.
“You’re fucked?” I lean forward to get a closer look at his face. If it’s not his parents, and Jason is sitting here, all in one piece, how bad could it be? Did he crash his car? Cheat on a test? I stare helplessly as he continues to sob. This seems much worse than getting suspended over a test. Jason can usually charm his way out of trouble. “Tell me what happened.”
He takes a shaky breath and raises his gaze to mine. My chest squeezes at the sight of his red, tear-streaked face and swollen eyes. I’ve never seen him like this before.
“I fucked up at work. Seriously fucked up.”
What could he possibly have done? Making deliveries for the owner of CyTech just isn’t that serious. I picked up the guy’s dry cleaning last week and two shirts were missing. He just shrugged and told me to go back and track them down at the shop. No big deal.
“I was delivering a package out to Glassport.”
I nod. He’s describing the warehouse I drove to on my first day on the job. I go there maybe once a week with a box of equipment. Laptops, I think.
“You know it’s a long drive, and I hadn’t eaten after swim practice, so I was starving. I stopped at that gas station on Route 65 to grab a few snacks.”
I know that place, I’ve filled up my gas tank there a few times. It’s a little off the beaten path, you have to take an exit off the highway to get there, but gas is thirty cents cheaper than the truck stop. “Did something happen at the gas station? Was there a holdup?” Do things like holdups even happen in real life, and not just in the movies? And if so, how would that be Jason’s fault?
Jason shakes his head and swipes at his nose with the back of his hand. “No. The package was stolen. I came out to the car,and it was gone.” His shoulders shake. “Adam, I swear I locked the doors. It’s a habit, you know? I hit the clicker the second I get out.”
My shoulders relax. This sucks, but it’s not Jason’s fault. “Listen, I know it’s probably expensive equipment, laptops or something, and I’m sure they’re going to be unhappy about it. But shit happens, you know? Someone broke in, you didn’t do anything.”
Jason drops his face back into his hands, crying so hard that he can barely get the words out. “You”—his voice cracks—“you don’t know how valuable that package was.”
I’ve delivered all kinds of things for this company, from late-night sushi to boxes of what I assume are computers. So, sure, that equipment that was stolen could definitely be expensive. I admit I don’t know shit about tech stuff, and the boxes are usually sealed. “Companies like that have insurance. It sucks to have to deal with that. But I’m sure it will be fine. Did you call the cops and get a police report?”
Jason looks up, his eyes dull and glassy. “No, I didn’t get a police report. It wasn’t computers in that box. It was cocaine.”
I choke out a gasp. “What the fuck?”
Jason nods slowly.
“How do you know that?”
He presses on his temples like he’s keeping his head from exploding. “Because that’s what we’ve been delivering. It’s what we’ve always been delivering.”
I stare at him, unable to process the words coming out of his mouth. “You… You’re saying we’ve been driving around withcocaine? We’ve been delivering it, all along? We’re essentially drug traffickers?What the fuck?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
“You’re saying your dad’s friend’s company doesn’t distribute tech equipment, they traffic cocaine?” I’m reeling, trying to think straight. “Doesyour dad know?”
Jason’s face crumples. “He’s not my dad’s friend.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s not my dad’s friend. That’s just something I told you. I met a guy when I was buying that coke a few months ago, and he told me about this job opportunity. He said you didn’t have to do anything, just drive around.”
