Some Place Better Than Here

Chapter 17: Changing of the Guards

But, still, even that didn't provide a clear answer.

The boyfriend/girlfriend dilemma tug-of-warred inside of me until I saw Max's scrappy BMX bike tossed next to the curb by my house. Suddenly filled with impending dread, I pulled into my driveway, got out of the car, and saw Max. Sitting on the front cement steps of my house, hunched over his knees.

"Max!" I reached back into my car, where I had left my phone all night locked in the center console. "I'm so sorry, man. I never got your—" I stopped myself in the trail of my stupid words when I clicked my phone on and saw (4) missed calls from Max. I'd forgotten about his drive home.

He glared up at me. His eyes looked painfully bloodshot. "Save it, Danny. I'm sick of your shit."

"Max, it was only a ride?"

"No, no, no, my friend. It's much more than that. I was depending on you. You think walking home for three fucking hours was fun?" He stood up. "If you weren't so busy dicking around with that Mary broad—"

"Max!" I gunned back. "It was my fault."

Max began snorting, laughing through his nose as he hacked out, "No shit, man! Damn right it was your fault! Maybe if you'd pay attention to something else other than her for two fucking seconds, you'd notice what you're doing to yourself."

"Okay, Max. What is it that I'm doing to myself exactly? Please explain."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Danny? You're joking, right?"

"Well, you seem to be the expert in how I'm fucking up my life," I answered. "And since you're obviously doing so great, go on, Max. Please tell me."

"You're letting that dumb fucking broad waste all your time when there are bigger things going on, Danny."

"Dude—what the fuck—you just called my girlfriend a dumb fucking broad?"

"Your girlfriend?" Max laughed, rolling his eyes. "Danny, your fucking girlfriend? She's stringing ya along her fingers, buddy! You think a broad like that—the same broad who wouldn't even give you the fucking time of day until you started driving her ass around and paying for shit—actually cares? She's playing you like the dumbass you are."

"You're fucking high again. You know, maybe if you didn't smoke so much fucking weed, you'd realize that you're just jealous," I said, catching my shirt in my fists as I jammed them into my pockets; the cheap fabric irritating the scratch marks on my back.

"Maybe if you weren't such a fucking virgin, you wouldn't care about some trash broad who finally touched your tiny dick? How about that?"

"Fuck you."

Max got off the last step and marched right past me. After progressing a few paces, he turned in his tracks.

"Oh yeah, you might want this." He tossed an envelope that spun in the air towards me.

I bent over and slid the papers out. "A termination notice?"

"The meeting this morning, remember? They called us all to tell us that we're closing down. Why do you think we've gotten shit zero shifts lately? We're losing our jobs, Danny."

"The carwash has been around for forever, man. There's no way they're closing down."

"I know that that's just a job for you, Danny, but for me it's everything. That's all I had, man." Max began shaking. "What am I supposed to do for money now?"

"Dude, chill. We'll figure something out."

"Figure something out? I have no one to support me. I'm not like you, Danny. Not everyone has your life—Oh. Right! That doesn't fucking matter to you, 'cause you and mommy get to fly to California! When I turn eighteen, I'm kicked out of foster care. What the hell am I supposed to do then?"