After the talk, Hugh and I went inside, as something else was on his mind.
He said to me inquisitively, “Tell me about your friend, Randy. He’s very mysterious. I’ve hung out socially with Tommy, but he rarely talks
sbout him. So he’s Rachel’s older brother? How did you come to being best friends with him?”
I said, “Yup. We grew up together, he’s a family friend, and is a childhood friend of mine. Anything he asks for, I try to help him out.”
He said sternly, “Good, good. What was he like as a little boy? You must know him so well, since he’s a great friend of yours.”
I replied nervously, “You know, we hung out and stuff. We engaged in debates, watched TV, played with each other, he was just a generally
nice person to be around. He’s very smart. He also has a certain, deceptive toughness that he exudes, especially when we play sports.”
Tapping my shoulder twice, he said in a condescending tone, “I’m sure he must be good at sports. That’s good to know. Just tell him, he’s
more than welcome to stay. Also, anytime you want to hang out with us, maybe at a bar, let me know.”
I replied, as I was about to finish another beer, “Okay. I’ll do that.”
Hugh then said, “Alright. I’d be more than interested to see what he thinks of Alexandra. If you need me, I’ll be around. Around with Suzy.”
I laughed at that one, as he walked away, to talk to Suzy.
I turned my head, to see him start to talk on his cell phone.
The person who was next to the guy with slick backed, dark brown hair who chided Hugh’s singing and guitar playing, was right next to me as
I was about to leave one of the bedrooms inside the large house. He was a 5 foot 8, gangly looking dude, as he dark brown mohawk, long
arms, with lots of tattoos and body piercings, as he wore a black T-shirt, black leatherpants. He was smiling at me, as if I was a good friend of
his.
I asked him curiously, “Do I know you?”
He said, “Not yet, but you will. I’m a good friend of Hugh’s, and also one of the neighbors of this beach house.”
I said, “Cool.”
He replied, “Name’s Nathan. I was his source. Apparently, a group of people are tailing you because you saw something that you weren’t
supposed to see.”
I asked, “What was that?”
He replied, “That’s neither important here nor there. But what you heard was correct. They are on your tail, and apparently the head of their
group is named Michael Dodson. And he has a son. He isn’t from here in America, but no one’s seen or heard from him in many years. Many
say he disappeared, but I know for a fact that he exists.”
I have a feeling I already know. My gut feeling, is that Mitch Hastings may be Dodson’s son. His actual son. Foster son. They are a two-man
operation.
I asked sternly as i furrowed my brow, “So why are you telling this to me?”
Nathan replied, “Because someone told me to. That’s all I know, for now. If you need a friend, I’ll be hanging out downstairs.”
I replied, “Alright, cool. That’s good to know.”
He nodded, responded as he smiled and said, “Yup.”
I said, “So you can trace them, right?”
But he walked out, as I sat down on the empty bed if one of the many empty bedrooms.