No Alternative: Day 5

Word Count: 30,013

Summary of Events:

Drake was able to talk to Calder's sister, but the fact that they had been off where they couldn't be seen by Calder's father led to Drake being chastised by him, which left Drake quite intimidated. The following day Drake was at work and discovered the Pepsi was flat, so he meant to open a fresh bottle, but his dad didn't take it well, so Drake had to ask a favour of the head waitress . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“I discarded flat Pepsi and got fresh poured over my head,” Drake replied. “Would you be able to cover my section while I go find some fresh clothes and a shower?”

“Elton isn’t going to be happy,” Sadie warned.

“I don’t care,” Drake replied. “If I don’t wash this pop out now I’m going to have to shave my head with a straight razor.”

“It’s going to wreck your car,” Sadie added.

“Good, maybe I can get it written off and get insurance money,” Drake said. “Oh, and tell the girl Pepsi’s off. Dad decided there’s no more Pepsi because I dumped the flat stuff down the drain.”

Sadie sighed and shook her head. “And yet he eighty sixes all kinds of stuff. It doesn’t make sense, it really doesn’t.”

Drake nodded and headed for the exit. He got into his car and turned the key. The car wheezed, but wouldn’t turn over. Trying again, Drake got the same response. Five tries yielded nothing more than pathetic wheezing.

Swearing, Drake slammed his fist on the steering wheel, only to be immediately slapped by the airbag.

Immediately Drake scrambled out of his car, desperately trying to avoid inhaling more of the dust that kept the bag capable of inflating even after having been folded up into the steering wheel for twenty some years; the dust he had inhaled burned his nose, throat, and lungs.

Now he was going to have dust stuck to all the wet pop on his clothes — and his skin, for that matter.

Drake went around to the other side of his car and fetched the insurance papers out of the glove compartment. He pocketed the booklet holding the papers and went back to the restaurant, where he snitched the keys to the van out of Mom’s purse before heading to the van — after making sure to shut his now-useless car’s door.

Satisfied that it started easily, Drake backed out of the stall and set off for home, where he’d shower and change into the next-darkest clothes he had, unless he felt like taking a few minutes to burn over to a store and get new ones that matched, that way Dad wouldn’t be able to tell.

It was only when Drake arrived in the bathroom downstairs and saw his apron still around his waist that he realised he hadn’t turned in the meal orders of the women he’d been serving.

Swearing again, Drake pulled the notepad out, took a picture, and texted it to Sadie, letting her know he’d forgotten to turn it in.

He’d just put one foot into the tub when his cellphone informed him he’d gotten a text, so he went over and looked; it was a reply from Sadie: Don’t worry about it, they left.

Drake sighed. The more time passed, the more he was beginning to hate Dad. He was getting more and more unreasonable, it seemed — either that, or he’d always been unreasonable and Drake was only just beginning to notice, he might have to ask the staff what they thought it was.