A Third of Me Read Online Free Page B

complex but I don't see his car. I drive around the lot. Nothing. I park and knock on his door anyway. Silence. I knock again. The walk back down to the first floor takes a lifetime. I want to run away so I can't be found. Maybe I will. Or maybe I'll just pick up a bottle of some wicked shit from the liquor store. Haven't done that in a while. Fuckin A.
    I'm about to climb in my car when Brian parks next to mine. He's wearing a baseball cap – which he never use to wear because he said it makes his hair fall out and he's really self-conscious about his fuckin hair – so I almost don't recognize him.
    But it's him, though. I can smell his cologne on the wind and I’m pretty sure no one else in the world still wears it.
       I run after him and tag his shoulder, which startles him so bad he almost hands over his wallet. After Brian sees that it's me, he relaxes and invites me up.
       I gotta talk about this shit before my head explodes. Maybe he'll let me crash on his couch tonight so I don't have to deal with Larry.
       Fucking asshole.
     

C H A P T E R T W O
    C ATALYST
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Brian
    I've seen that look before. Damon is trying really hard to cover up his fear, his anger. My upbringing was peachy, so I can't relate to the level of violence and mental abuse he's been subjected to over the years, but I want to help him somehow and if that means only lending an ear or a shoulder, I'm happy to do so. But some people don't like asking for help. I know I don't.
    Damon doesn't either.
    He says nothing for a long time. He just stares at the back wall near the balcony door. He's anxious. Fidgeting. He's been rubbing his hands together for ten minutes, but it's not cold in here.
    Damon reaches over to the side table by the sofa and reads the pink copy of my contract from Titan's twenty-four hour gym. I had just come from there when Damon showed up and I had considered asking him to go with me, but I figured if I signed up before him, I could get a referral discount when he joins later.
    “How long is this gonna last? Two weeks?” he asks.
    “Nah, I'll stick it through this time.”
    “That's what you said last time. Pretty nice place?”
    “Yeah, it's clean. The staff is friendly and–”
    “Hot chicks or a bunch of dicks?”
    “Couldn't say. The owner was the only one there after five o'clock.”
    “Gotcha. I might go over there tomorrow and check it out. Maybe we could get a routine going. Workout together when you get off work.”
    “Definitely,” I say, nodding. “What's on your mind?”
    Damon takes a deep breath. I'm glad I didn't blow off into my speech earlier and unload all those feelings when he obviously has a hell of a lot on his mind right now.
    Then again, so do I.
    “Brian, I need to move away from Larry. And he knows about your sexual preferences and you know how he feels about me being around you.”
    I nod. There's a story about that, but it's for another time.
    “He's getting worse. I'm worried that one night I'll be sleeping and he'll just come in with a shotgun and blow me away.”
    “I don't think he would do that.”
    “You don't know him like I do. He was mean before Mom passed away, but now, he's dangerous, Brian. And I'm scared. And Mom – Christ, man, she didn't know. I wanted to tell her, but she'd been sick for so long and worried about everything else, I didn't want to burden her with my problems.”
    He stands up and goes to the window, splitting the blinds with his finger. “He doesn't know where you live, but he might see my car,” he says.
    “Sit down and relax, will you?”
    “Sorry.” He sits beside me on the couch. Thanks, Damon. Now I need to relax. “Want to get drunk?”
    “You want to escape an abusive alcoholic by getting drunk? Is that irony?”
    “How the fuck should I know? You're the writer,” he says, laughing, easing me a bit.
    I should mention I have a very low tolerance to alcohol. It hasn't gotten me into trouble in the