Near a gutted phone booth filled with empty soda cans, Sheridon kneeled by the cardboard shelters to hand out sandwiches; the unfortunate people who dwelled within never doubted he’d bring food the same time each day. He continued his good will by dishing out a case of Pavaloo.
Sheridon put down the remaining sodas and stepped over to the curb. He could hear the screechy timing belt and dragging muffler of his confidant’s raggedy ride before the car even turned the corner. A trail of blue smoke followed the vehicle down the street, up to the curb. Sheridon stuck his head in the window and listened.
“You won’t enjoy hearing this,” said the studious looking man, who didn’t match the dumb looking car he sat in.
“Tsara was not in Grevelton last night taking care of a friend. She departed Ding Palace then drove directly to Mallyview.”
Sheridon smacked the car top and backed away. He rubbed his stubble throughout a slow seething three-sixty, during which, the cardboard residents had stopped chewing and stared at him.
“You sure it was her?” he asked loudly.
“Positive. Some of the boys were in Mallyview last night and checked out that big explosion on St. Barron Road. They saw Tsara drive up, park, then disappear. That’s all I know.”
Sheridon put a hand over his eyes, shook his head, then snatched a fifty from his pocket. “Thanks for the info. Now please go fix that car,” he said, handing over the cash.
Sheridon stormed in the opposite direction of the squealing timing belt. Like any human being, he hated when a good friend lied to him. He didn’t even care for polite lies (such as complimenting a crappy haircut) and he couldn’t wait to remind Tsara of that.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at her apartment and wasted no time pounding the door. Tsara peered between the curtains as if the landowner was knocking for late rent. Instead, she found big Sheridon rubbing his fist and growling to himself. Of course, she hurried to let him inside.
“Sheridon, what’s bothering you?”
“You’re bothering me,” he grumbled, shoving in past her. “What do you mean?”
“It ain’t my business where you spend your time, but don’t lie to me. Why’d you say you was helpin’ a friend in Grevelton when you really went to Mallyview?”
Tsara stared... And stared... And stared...
Finally, she turned to shut the door. By the time she’d stepped back over to him, she’d armed herself with an explanation.
“I drove to Mallyview last night — but I only went there to help Russell. I thought I’d talk to his parents — let them know he was alive — but no one answered the door. On my way back, there was a big fire and like everyone else I stopped to look then I — ”
“Like I said, it’s your business.” Sheridon slumped on the pink couch.
“I knew Russell would tell me not to go. That’s why I — ”
“Forget about it.”
Sheridon continued to sulk and although he still loved Tsara like a sister, he’d probably never trust her again.
“Can I give you a big hug?” she asked, noticing his sudden eye contact.
“You have to,” said Sheridon, “Look at the size of me.”