Suspicious Minds

Finishing his work early, Stan returned home, figuring he could burn off a few hours working on the Charger. Throwing open the garage’s double doors, he walked in, grabbing himself a beer from the fridge. Looking at the car’s engine compartment, he cracked it and took a long pull. The phone in his shirt pocket made a generic text message sound.

Pulling out the phone, he did not recognize the number. Opening the message, it read, ‘You don’t know me but my name is Deacon and I’m Oliver’s new roommate and he said I should contact you in case anything kind of weird happened and well I’m not sure but I think something weird in going on.’

Frowning, Stan took another quaff of beer and set the bottle down before replying, ‘Hey Deacon, good to meet ya, no worries about Oliver. I got a text from him just a short time ago telling me things were getting hot’n’heavy between him and Sersei.’

‘We kind of set up a code or sorts and the response I got was wrong, could you maybe, just for my peace of mind ask him something only he would know?’ Deacon typed back.

“Huh,” Stan mumbled, unsure of what to make of the message. What could possibly be weird about the situation? Was the girl a hooker? Oliver was a great kid just a little dumb around girls. Thinking he had the perfect question for Oliver one not even his mother would know the answer to, ‘I’ll check it out,’ he sent back.

‘Thanks,’ Deacon answered.

“Alright,” Stan said. Bringing up Oliver’s contact, he typed in ‘Hey pal, you busy all weekend, or do you think there’s a chance we can get together holiday Monday?’

‘I think we’ll be tied up probably all weekend, sorry,’ came the near immediate response.

A smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth, ‘Hey no worries AD,’ Stan sent.

‘Sersei’s coming back in and she has that look in her eye so I’ll have to get back to you later.’

‘AD,’ he typed again. There was no response forthcoming. Frowning, he tapped the phone shaped icon and called Oliver’s number. The cell rang several times before going to voice mail. Maybe there was something going on. Only he and Oliver were privy to the meaning behind AD. It started out after Stan had had the birds and the bees talk with Oliver, suggesting that Oliver might want to come up with a handle for his manhood. Stan’s idea, with a name like Oliver was the Artful Dodger. Oliver had originally blushed furiously, but as the boy grew and the inside joke developed, the moniker shortened to simply AD and Oliver’s automatic response anytime Stan used it was FU. Keeping the origin of the letters to themselves, neither Stan nor Oliver bothered to offer an explanation or extrapolate for Samantha.

Still looking down at the device in his hand, “What’s going on?” he mused verbally, picking the beer up in his free hand. Granted, this Sersei looked like hell on wheels and might have put stars in the boy’s eyes, but Oliver should have, at the absolute least sent back the FU.

Going back to Deacon’s number, ‘Do you happen know where Oliver is right now?’ he inquired.

‘Another one of the Omega Pi girls named Brooklynn was here grabbing a few thing saying Oliver was at the sorority house, but that he and Sersei were planning on sneaking away for the weekend,’ was the reply.

The weekend was still a couple of days off. Hemming and hawing, Stan chugged down the rest of the brew. While it was probably nothing, Sam’s mini-melt down a few days back and the other odd things did not sit right with him. Sam was not due back until Monday and he was far ahead enough in the Kettering job, Reed would not bitch too much about him taking a couple of days off before the long weekend, maybe he should just go down to the university and pay Oliver and his little girlfriend a surprise visit. Nodding to himself, that is what he would do.

Putting the empty back in the case, he paused, contemplating whether to fire off another text message or just arrive unannounced. Wobbling his head, he started typing, ‘Yo Deacon, just a head’s up buddy, I’ve decided I’m going to come on down there tonight. If Oliver shows up, you can let him know otherwise I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself.’

‘Will do,’ came the response.

Tucking his phone away, Stan closed up the garage and returned to the house, taking a quick leak before packing some clothes in his old boxing duffle bag. Throwing the bag in the back of the minivan, he started the engine and fastened his safety belt before putting the vehicle in gear and pulling out of the driveway.

With good roads and excellent weather, Stan was making great time on the All America City Hwy. Transitioning onto the Golden State Hwy, things took a decidedly inopportune turn for the worse when the van’s front passenger-side tire blew out just north of Bakersfield in Oil Junction. Getting the van under control, he pulled off to the side the highway.

Turns out, the van’s spare was one of those shitty little emergency tires, good for no more than a hundred miles or so. Changing the flat, he got off the highway on Olive Drive of all roads and pulled into the first garage he found only to discover that they could not help him until morning. The choice was risk continuing on the little spare, or stay overnight. Despite desperately wanting to continue, he was astute enough to choose discretion over valor. There was a hotel just up the block, so he left the van at the garage, grabbed a Starbuck’s at the corner and got himself a room at the Vagabond Inn Bakersfield North for the night.

Pulling out his phone, he checked it to see if there was anything new from Oliver but there was nothing. Strange. Texting Deacon, he let the lad know about the delay. Sitting back on the hotel bed, he crossed his arms, determined to find the underlying cause of this odd set of circumstances.