Page 84 of Grind
The door burst open, startling them both, but instead of entering, Dex stood there like a deer in the headlights, staring at Ezra.
“Oh. My bad. I thought Frank took you shopping.”
He looked just like he had that night, minus the apron, gloves, and blood. But even though tension held Ezra’s muscles rigid, he knew there would be no better opportunity than this to find out more.
“We have donuts,” he said without thinking.
Dex glanced to the threshold like a vampire who needed an explicit invitation to enter, but one look at the full box lured him in. “Frank told me not to come when you’re here, but I know that if only I got to explain what happened, you’d understand.”
Ezra wasn’t so sure about that, but he appreciated Frank thinking about his comfort. “Sure. Come in,” he heard himself say, even though his imagination conjured the unpleasant odor of blood.
If he was to make decisions and regain some control over his life, he needed more information.
Ros slurped his chocolate in silence, but Dex filled it without issue.
He grabbed himself a donut and sat on the table, next to Ezra. “I know what you saw lookedbad, but those guys I was cutting up were, like, total scum, and I was only laughing because Hammer was reading me his story, and there was something there about one guy gettinghandsywith the other. Like, ‘ooh, don’t get handsy with me’, and I was holding thehands, so it was just really funny when I imagined getting handsy. With hands in my hands.”
Ezra would have laughed if Dex was a character in an action movie?an over-the-top comic relief vigilante?but this was real life, and the light-hearted way he spoke about murder was horrendous.
Still, Ezra kept his cool and nodded, swallowing big gulps of the cocoa to give himself more courage. “How were they scum?”
Dex stuffed the whole donut in his mouth and only then chewed, holding up his finger to signal that he was getting to it. The pause gave Ezra a moment to notice the T-shirt Dex wore under his open hoodie. It was black but had a neon-colored print at the front, featuring a Stop sign, a hammer, and a watch. Did the charade stand for… ‘Stop, hammer time’?
How was this guy a member of a motorcycle club? The skills he’d showcased in that container must have been his ticket in.
Dex swallowed. “So. Those two guys stole drugs, which is bad enough, right? Like, a lot of money was involved, but then, when I tracked them down with Hammer, we found out that they wanted to smuggle them inside of puppies.”
Ros started choking so hard Dex leaned toward him and patted his back but went on as if nothing happened.
“Exactly. Sweet little innocent puppies with bellies full of pills. And it’s true, because they had already done it to one of them. We arrived in time to save the others, but this one needed to be taken to the vet and everything.” He rubbed Ros’s shoulder. “That’s the one I brought you guys that night. Is he doing okay?”
“Yeah, a friend of mine is adopting him,” Ros said, grabbing a donut.
Dex spread his arms. “So, like, what you saw, was kind of a misunderstanding, because I get it, it looked bad, but ultimately, it was about saving puppies, and you can’t say that’s such a terrible thing.”
Ezra very much doubted that whoever had the drugs stolen from them cared about saving puppies, but Dex sounded so honest in his disgust, it was easy to lean into his version of events. And while there was no point in questioning the moral side of the drug trade as a whole or why Dex was in any way involved, Ezra nodded, wanting him to feel heard. “Do you ever do this with just random people? Like… are you hitmen?”
To Ezra’s shock, Dex leaned forward and slid his fingers along his jaw. “Noo! Sweetie, we’re like… we get shit done, but we’re not psychos. I mean, technically, Hammer might be on that spectrum, but, like, he’s got me as his moral compass, you know?”
Excuse me?
Ezra recoiled, escaping the touch. “I did not need to know that. What about Frank?”
Because that was the whole point of this conversation.
“Frank is… I mean, he’s like a landlord. At the cemetery.” Dex glanced at Ros. “Do cemeteries have rent, or do you buy a spot?”
Ros shrugged, indicating he had no idea, so Dex continued.
“He deals with whatever comes his way, but also generally chooses who he works with. But it’s not like there’s a truck of corpses coming here every day. It’s an occasional kind of thing. He’s mostly out there working through the crap people bring him, or doing all the regular junkyard stuff. The plot is massive, so there’s always something for him to do. I’ve been telling him he needs to employ someone to help him out, but he says he doesn’t have time. But how is he supposed to make time if he doesn’t get help? Logic, man.” Dex poked his temple.
“I know, he’s never home,” Ezra muttered, suddenly annoyed. About being kept in the dark. About being left on his own all day. But most of all, he was angry with himself for not taking action earlier. “Can you get me cognac? Or red wine?” he asked, snapping his eyes at Dex.
Dex squinted at him. “Are you twenty-one—Ah, what the hell do I care? Sure.” He laughed and jumped off the table, grabbing one more donut.
Ros got up as well. “I’ll be going.”
Ezra’s hand shot to his wrist, because the last thing he wanted was to leave Ros with a bad impression. His life would never be what it used to, and he needed to change things. Maybe even have friends who didn’t want to just gossip. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
