Never Forever

Chapter. 13 Just Plain Unlucky

"Kyle?" I ask hesitantly. "Is everything okay?"
"No. No, it is not okay. He said he'd stop." His voice sounded strained, frustrated, scared. I don't know what all. I could picture him tugging at his hair.
"Stop? Stop what?"
"I have to go." The line went dead. I wanted to scream. I hated it when people never told me what was going on. I was wide awake now. What did Tracker say he was going to stop? Drugs? Drinking? That all I could think of. That's all I wanted to think of. The other possibilities were too much. My thoughts ran back to Hunter and how much the two of them look alike. It can't be a coincidence. He must be related to him. I gripped my head to cramp the memories, trying to get back to the present.
Ugh. Of course I get messed up with the wrong people again. I stared at the orange liquid in my glass for a long time. I grab the phone again and dial Trackers number. Yeah, I already got it memorized. After the second ring, I already began to worry. So far he's been a fast picker upper. But not this time. I continued to wait. I was just about to give up after the fifth ring when he suddenly answered.
"Jacey?" He asked in a whisper.
"Why are you whispering?" I whisper back.
"Never mind that. Why are you calling?" His voice sounded a little cold.
"Kyle couldn't get ahold of you, I was just wondering if you are okay."
"I'm fine." He whispered curtly.
"Then why are you whispering? Hiding from someone?" I pretended a teasing tone, but really just wanting to know if he was. There was a pause. I hear a click in the background.
"I'm not hiding from anyone." He said finally.
"You hesitated." I state bluntly.
"I did not!" He snapped back, still whispering. "I'm busy. Bye." The phone went dead. I put the phone back on it's hook on the wall, thinking. I knew immediately what the click was. It was a gun cocking. Was he the one cocking the gun? Or was someone about to shoot him? I gulped down the juice and stood up. He must be into drugs. It has to be.
I go take a shower, dress, and come back downstairs. Checking my revolver, I shove it into the back of my cut off jean shorts, pulling my loose black tank top over it for concealment. Yes, it is legal to carry a concealed weapon if you have a permit-which I do. I run out of the house only to realize that my car had been ruined. I instantly cursed the drunkard. I grabbed my bike instead and rode into La Jolla. On the way, I passed the crash site. Ambulances, fire trucks, and police vehicles surrounded it. They had the cars stopped but me being a biker I just rode past on the far side. Trying not to look guilty.
Getting into town, I went straight for a motorcycle dealer. I instantly saw the one I want-a black one with green streaks through it. Man, I'm really digging the green color these days. Something must be wrong with me.
The deal was done in less than fifteen minutes and I was at a gas station wondering which way to go.
If I was a drug dealer, I would deal in a city where it was easy to disappear.San Francisco? That's a little far.. San Diego? That is one of the most dangerous cities... it had to be San Diego. Where could he have gone in such a short amount of time?
I hopped onto my new wheels and sped off. I had a few... contacts who would know a thing or two on how to find Tracker.

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Upon entering San Diego, I purchased a little flip phone called the Jitterbug. It was meant for old people but as far as I was concerned, I was an old person. I quickly dialed in the numbers and waited.

"Craft supply and flora, how can I help you?" A female voice spoke from the other end.

"Tell Tony that Trisha wants thirteen red roses by 3:08pm." There was a pause.

"I'll tell him." She said finally, voice hinting. I smile into the phone.

"Thank you." I shut the phone, then opened it again, dialing. It rang and rang. Finally Tracker's voicemail came on saying that if you're a salesman then don't bother leaving a message. I rolled my eyes. "Tracker? If you get this, please call back." I shut the phone again and lean against my motorcycle with a frown. Am I worrying? About Tracker? A may-be relative to Hunter? I rub my face and look at the time. 2:38pm. Better get going. I hop on the bike and shoot out of the Walmart parking lot.