Everywhere That Tommy Goes Read Online Free PDF Page A

sudden, a weird, paranoid feeling comes over me, like this bartender knows I stashed a dead girl and he wants me to stick around until the cops show up. It’s not possible, but I feel like the old man is reading my mind. He keeps staring at me, and I get this queasy feeling like I should just book. I give him this lame smile and say, “You know what? Just gimme a shot of your best tequila and chase it with a Heineken for now.”
    “Coming up,” he says, as he turns around to get my drinks.
    Whew, that was close
. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m thinking way too much. This old guy doesn’t know anything, but I still feel like I better jet right after I down my drinks. I’ll pick up some food later. Shit, I’ve never been paranoid before, but I think this whole thing is starting to freak me out.
    “You with one of the bands?” the old man asks as he pours the Heineken.
    “Nah, just passing through.”
    “Well you sure do look like one of those types we get in here during battle week. You picked a good time to pass through.”
    I just nod at him and slide him a twenty. I don’t want to get into no heavy dio’ with this guy. He gets the hint real quick, takes the dough, and walks to the register.
    I down my drinks quickly and head back to my car. I get in and turn the key, but she won’t start. I twist the key again, but she just keeps cranking and coughing. She won’t turn over.
    I sit there for a minute, then try once more. Same thing. So I head back to the bartender to see if he knows a mechanic.
    “You forget something, laddie?” he asks, wiping down the bar where I was sitting.
    “My car won’t start. You know any mechanics nearby?”
    “Mobil station down the road a piece. They have a few.”
    “You got a number?”
    Fat old Irish reaches under the bar, pulls out a card, and hands it to me.
    “Thanks,” I say. Then I start getting the chills and feel like I’m being watched—or set up or something.
    This is messed up. Something feels very wrong, and I don’t like it one bit. I go back outside, pull out my cell, and call the number. I get some hick on the phone who tells me they’ll be sending someone over soon and I should just wait. No shit—what else am I going to do?
    While I’m standing by the car, a knock comes from the back. Then I hear bizarre laughter. I pull open the trunk, and, get this: It’s fuckin Troyer.

CHAPTER 5
    “Troyer! What the hell, where did you come from? And where the fuck did you go the other night?” He just climbs outta the trunk, grinning wide and laughing all psycho and shit. “Quit it, Troyer. Answer me.”
    Still laughing, he says, “You have to see the look on your face, mate—like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    “Screw you, man! And what’s with that bullshit accent?”
    “What are you talking about? This is how I’ve always spoken.”
    He says it to me like he totally believes it. This dude is unreal.
    “Whatever. How the hell did you get in my trunk?”
    Troyer grabs me by the shoulders. “I’ve been with you all along. I slipped in there right before you left home.”
    “You
what
?” I shout, pulling away from him. Then I take a few steps back, trying to gather my thoughts.
    “Don’t look so surprised. I saw you preparing to leave town, so I just jumped in.”
    “So why’d you leave me with the dead girl?”
    “Leave you?
You
left
me
. You were gone for almost a half hour. I couldn’t just wait there. Besides, the chick was alive when I left her. I checked, and she was breathing. She wasn’t cut that deep. She was going to be all right.”
    “No way!”
    “Yes, sir, Tommy Boy. She was still alive.”
    “Look, man, I’m telling you, she’s dead. I dumped her body by the beach.”
    “Well, we have to go back and get her, mate.”
    “Are you nuts? I’m not going back there.”
    “Then this is all on your head, mate. I won’t be held responsible for what you’ve done.”
    “
Me?
You’re the one who slit her throat.”
    “I did