Dust ✔️

Chapter Four -- Influence

Chapter Four -- Influence

"You look like you've slept well," Tyler's sarcastic voice crept up beside me as I was putting on my beat up black boots.

I finished tying my laces and stood up straight. "I had some pretty fucked up dreams last night," I muttered.

"Where are you headed so early on a Saturday?" He yawned with a sleepy posture drooping against the wall.

"Well I figure I should go see if Tony really is still alive or if that's just a rumor." I grinned.

"You're sick," Tyler grumbled under his breath. "Are you really sure it's a bright idea to work there again after all the shit it got you into?"

Of course it was a good idea. I had to get my fix of chaos from somewhere.

This was a new look for Tyler. His golden brown hair was mangled, sporting a nasty bed head. Perhaps he got laid this morning; He'd need it. He wasn't wearing his business attire. I missed the days where he would look like this more often than not. But Tyler was a business man now and image meant everything. Sad.

I had a look to me too, but it was anything but a suit and tie.

"It wasn't the shop, it was the people. I Just want to focus on work," I nodded to myself.

It was possible that what I was saying was bullshit. He knew as well as I did that I chased mayhem.

Just because I got released from the loonie bin didn't mean I'm some gospel spilling whack job that's found the light of purity. I was anything but and the thought of keeping a piece of my past was too tempting to pass up.

In the asylum, they attempted to contort me into a completely different person, and forget everything about myself. I'd play along with them to keep my sentencing lowered but they were fools to think that I was transformed. Therapy was a waste.

I was in a bad mood.

"Right. Well. I have something for you," Tyler walked up to me with his fist clenched.

I narrowed my eyes at his balled up hand.

I stood in a straightened posture, mentally preparing myself. I could be proud of my friend for finally showing me how angry he's been with me over the last year or two. It was a change of personality since the last time I've seen him. Although I deserved it, it'd hurt inside.

As he approached, he stopped right in front of me and lifted his clenched fist at chest level. "I think you're going to like it," The tired look fell off his face and he smiled bright. He blinked sleepy tears coated in his eyes.

"Oh yeah..?" I raised an eyebrow. Perhaps a new guitar pick - something small enough.

Tyler threw the small object up in the air, which I caught on instinct. I looked in the palm of my hand where a set of keys attached to a key ring rested.

"I thought you might want to have that back," He grinned, flashing his teeth.

    I looked up at his proud face. "You're serious?" I asked in disbelief. I looked back down at the keys, excited for the first time in a long time. I was almost certain this thing would have been sold by now; I would have pawned it off the second I was alone with it if I were in his shoes.

"Yeah, buddy. It was yours for when you came back, and now that you're back," He glanced at me. "You might need it for work."

"Thank you," I said. I Maybe they were more forgiving than I anticipated.

He nodded. "No problem, buddy. Use it for good."

I nodded slowly with a squint to my eyes. I still needed to prove that trust.