Searching for Mine(5)

The boys looked at him as if he’d gone nuts, and Connor used their shock to smoothly snatch the DS from the bully’s hand. “You can’t do that!” the second gangster cried. “That’s stealing.”

“Guess I’ll be sharing a jail cell with you one day, huh? Listen up. Next time you think you’re gonna have a bit of fun at some younger kid’s expense, remember this. I can find each of you alone and make you regret it. Got it?”

The leader stepped back. “Whatever. Come on, guys. Let’s get out of here.”

They trudged away in their ragtag group. Connor picked up the bike from the ground and thrust out the DS. “Here you go. No thanks necessary, kid.”

“I didn’t need your help,” the boy hissed in fury. Connor jerked back at the frustration glinting from his brown eyes. “I had it handled. You screwed up everything, dude! Now they’re gonna be looking for me cause they think I’m a wuss!”

Connor blinked. “Are you kidding me? You would’ve gotten beat up. I’ve seen those kids around and they don’t play nice. Trust me, they won’t mess with you anymore.”

The boy yanked back the DS and his bike, shoving his backpack over his arm. “Whatever.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “When did that word make a comeback? I mean, really?”

The kid didn’t answer, just shook his head and dragged his bike toward the building next door. Huh. Guess he was a new neighbor. Connor hadn’t seen any moving trucks, but he hoped the grumpy old man was finally gone. Anyone was better than a grizzled man who sat on the front stoop and bellowed at strangers on the street, drinking cheap whiskey from a brown paper bag. Even a surly kid.

Connor watched the red door shut and turned back to his own place. Maybe he should knock on the door this weekend and introduce himself. The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but the location was prime for commuting to Manhattan and keeping rents low. Other than the band of bullies who haunted the streets, there weren’t drugs or gangs. Just a bunch of older stone buildings with ancient plumbing, leaky windows, and pothole-ridden streets.

Still worked for him.

Connor trudged inside and reheated his dinner. The interior of his apartment didn’t reflect the shabby exterior. He’d updated the original dull beige walls and carpet with a rich blue, and his brother’s girlfriend, Kennedy, had transformed the bachelor pad into a home using a few feminine touches to brighten up the place. He’d moved from his old apartment he’d shared with Nate to save money, ignoring his brother’s protests that he’d cover his expenses until Connor finished school.

Hell, no.

Connor had spent his life taking care of his little brother and raising him. Though Nate was now a fancy rocket scientist who used to work for NASA, Connor refused to take his charity. But he hadn’t been able to afford the tuition so they’d struck a deal. Since Connor had worked three jobs to get Nate through college when he was young, Nate would front his tuition bill. Connor could live with that, knowing he’d pay back his brother every dime once he got into a management position. He’d quickly moved to this apartment to save on rent and was now able to live comfortably.

He may not have fancy granite counters or stainless steel appliances, but everything worked, including the big screen TV. The furniture was secondhand, but it was solid wood mahogany, with clean, masculine lines. The extra bedroom was a nice perk, so he used it for his workout equipment and skipped the gym membership. Photos of architectural buildings and bridges filled the walls, bringing a sense of wonder and creativity to the space. His textbooks stuffed the antique bookcase, and he’d created a small workspace in the corner of the living room, saving a spot for where he’d hang his degree.

He pulled out his sub, cracked open his beer, and ate at the sturdy pine table while he scrolled through his iPhone and updated social media. The radiator hummed and the pipes creaked in the background. The smell of sauce and meat drifted in the air. He embraced the quiet, settled in, and enjoyed the solitude. After dinner, he powered up his laptop and did a few hours of schoolwork, finally rubbing his tired eyes around nine o’clock.

To think he once had nothing to do but hang at the pub with his friends was now laughable. Most of the time, he fell asleep with his textbooks open on the table, drooling over the pages. Other than an occasional Saturday night out or hanging with his brother, his social life had dried up to an embarrassing level. He rarely saw his old friends, who were mainly into getting drunk at the bars every Friday and Saturday night, refusing to acknowledge that forty loomed dangerously close. Hell, the saddest part of all was he didn’t even miss his old life.