Thin Air (Complete EDITING)

11- Brandon

11 Brandon May 15, 2020

I am lost in my head, trying to trace Erin's last known appearance for the thousandth time and getting nowhere.

I was the last person to see her. I walked her down from the highway the Gas'n'Go sat on until I could see the streetlights on Jackson Blvd. It should have taken less than five minutes for her to get home from there. I shouldn't have cut through the footpath on my way back. I should have taken her all the way to her front door, but I needed to get back to my dad before he puked all over his truck. Or worse, woke up and drove off.

By the time I got back to the parking lot, he had done both. There was a broken bottle and steaming puddle of vomit in the place his truck had been twenty minutes before.

I replayed that night in my head, combing for anything that I had missed any of the other numerous times. I'd racked my brain to the point of a headache when my cell started to ring. Noting the name on the screen, I took a deep breath before picking up.

"Hey, Dean-"

"Don't 'Hey Dean' me, boy. First, you stall out construction over some petty bullshit. Then, your dad skips our meeting without so much as a call. If you guys weren't the only building inspectors in the area, I'd fire your asses! Hell, I'm apt to take you to court and sue for wasted time! You are costing me money here!"

I could picture Dean's leathered face turning red. He's usually a reasonable enough guy and an outstanding client, but this project has been wearing on him. Dean took over Robert Kent's building contracts here when Robert moved to Washington. Over the last twenty or so years he has expanded his chain of Christian Youth Centers to most of the western states.

This expansion on the one over in Dixon has been a real mess. His crew keeps half-assing things, and that's where he's losing money. Not my fault, but I do feel for the guy.

"Well, hang on now, Dean. I went and gave them the go-ahead this afternoon. If they are still dragging their feet out there at the site, that's on them. And what do you mean my dad didn't show up? Did you try calling him?"

He huffing and puffing tone down when he realizes his anger is misplaced. "Of course, I tried to call him. The old man didn't pick up any of my half dozen calls."

"Hm, okay. Well, it must have slipped his mind. He's getting up there." I only say this to appease him. My dad at be pushing seventy but is still as sharp as a tack. "I'll talk to him and get it worked out. In the meantime, is there anything I can clear up for you?"

"No, I was just looking to shoot the shit and bitch about you a little over some free coffee." He hesitantly admits. "Tell him I'm taking the cost of my breakfast off of my bill."

I chuckled at the cheap ass. "No problem. Go ahead and deduct lunch too. Again, I'm really sorry about that."

When I hung up the phone, I couldn't help but feel something was wrong. I try my dad a couple of times before deciding to head over to check in on him. Calvin Holt was almost seventy, but he was nothing if not reliable.