The Heart of It All (HeartSick Series Book 1)

by Weston Mitchel

  He fashioned himself a DIY weekend warrior when it came to projects around the house, but when it came to wood he was a true craftsman. He made two of the drawers, one under the platform part of the desk and one on the shelf unit into false bottom drawers, leaving a thin but sizable area to conceal what the heart desired.

  On the actual roll-top, he created a primary and secondary stop in the grooves. You could lift up the cover to it’s original stop and it would look normal, but if you pulled out two of the drawers and opened the right cabinet door in a certain combination the roll top could be pushed back further to it’s secondary stop. This revealed an opening that ran the width of the desk about three inches wide and eighteen inches deep at the back of shelf unit.

  He finished the desk roughly thirty minutes before the Kyle house filled with the aroma of coffee and eggs and the sounds of alarms ringing from phones on bedside tables. Just enough time to shower and climb back in bed to fake a wake up with the rest of the family.

  It had been a while since James felt as proud of something as he did that morning. Now if only his son could be proud of him as well.

  That night after the remnants of the home-made cake were put away and while Austin’s Mom, Crystal, was tucking in his younger sister by two years, Brooke, James gently knocked on Austin’s bedroom door and cracked it ajar.

  Austin was sitting on his bed tallying up the cash and gift cards that his friends and extended family had given him. When Austin finally looked up, his dad was in the middle of the room with his index finger touched to his lips pleading for him to be quiet, while his other hand was gesturing for him to get up. With a quick jerk of his head he turned back towards the door and Austin hurriedly jumped up wondering what his dad was up to and followed silently.

  James stealthily led his son to the living room shuffling sideways with his back against the wall, palms sliding out beside him as if he was traversing a narrow ledge on the side of a skyscraper. At each doorway or corner on the way he would peak his head around slowly, looking for any enemy combatants, mom and sis.

  Although Austin had no clue why his dad was role playing a covert op straight out of Call of Duty, he played along and followed suit. Finally arriving at the desk, Austin was confused, why had his dad brought him to this, he knew this desk inside out and backwards.

  Austin wasn’t totally surprised that he didn’t get the new gaming console that had just come out. He knew the trouble his family was in. His parents tried not to argue in front of the kids, but it was nearly impossible to keep everything away from them in this small of a house, and nothing brought on arguments in even the happiest of marriages like money woes.

  Austin was prepared at gift time, because of this, to play the part of proud son and be excited at whatever it was they gave him, even if it was nothing at all. For a bit he actually thought they didn’t get him anything.

  His parents had just simply waited for everyone to leave, however to tell him that they were passing down the desk to him. To be used in his room, instead of the corner of the living room where it had stood in all of its colored versions as far back as he could remember.

  Now James stood at the desk giving the room one last look around for possible snipers, while grasping the handle on the closed roll top. “I wanna show you something, son,” James said in a now serious tone, letting Austin know that playtime was over as he raised the cover up until an audible click could be heard.

  First he took out the top shelf drawer that was no bigger than an old library card drawer, then he reached down and did the same with the larger one that was at about knee height. He slid the bottom of the drawers about half an inch, just enough to get a fingernail on the edge of the wood and pull up to reveal the secret opening below, and Austin’s eyelids opened wide while his jaw went slack.

  “Pretty cool, huh?”, his dad said trying to stay low key in case Austin wasn’t as excited about the idea as he had been throughout the night prior. Ironically though, earlier when they told him they were giving it to him, even before he knew of the upgrades, he wasn’t faking the excitement. Austin didn’t need to play the part, he loved this desk and had always hoped they would at least let him take it when he was older and moved out.

  “Whoa, Dad, are you kidding me?” he asked with a renewed enthusiasm he hadn’t shown either of his parents in a while. “This is friggin’ awesome, thanks dad… has it always been like that?” he asked picking the smaller drawer up and intensely inspecting it.

  “No, son,” he said with a small chuckle, “I made a few minor adjustments to it last night, now check this out.”

  James put the drawers back in place but left the top slightly opened, pulled another drawer that was on the left side that was right under the desktop and pushed in the middle drawer about an inch. As he did another click could be heard just like earlier when he opened the top. Austin was super confused now, but couldn’t take his eyes off the desk waiting for what he didn’t know.

  Austin’s Dad pushed the rolltop cover back further another four inches and peered down inside, motioning for Austin to do the same.

  “No way” he said as he followed his dad’s gaze into the small cavern hiding behind the shelf unit of the desk.

  “It’s like straight out-a-va spy novel or Sherlock Holmes, I don’t know what to say,” he said looking back up into his dad’s eyes, “It’s perfect.”

  They moved it into his room minutes later, and James was mentally and emotionally relieved at his son’s taking to the work he had put into this once beat up slab of ugly. Once in place James gave his son a quick one armed hug around the neck, and said “Don’t worry son, you’re secret is safe with me.”

  Then walked out of the room a proud father once again.

  Flyer Find

  If Austin had been a part of a different generation, maybe twenty years ago or so, these secret compartments might have been filled with playboys and stolen cigarettes or stacks of floppy disks of Leisure Suit Larry.

  It wasn’t twenty years ago though, so the drawers were used to hide his few prized possessions, some highly rated baseball cards, a few notes on actual paper from his girlfriend and various other things that were none too wicked.

  Austin never tried smoking a cigarette and figured he would never be someone who would smoke. The smell of the smoke always made him sick, but it also reminded him of his grandfather who smoked until the day he passed, from Emphysema. He used to take his oxygen mask off and crank the valve closed on the tank to make sure he didn’t turn into a human zippo when he lit up, knowing he shouldn’t but not able to stop himself at the same time.

  Austin always thought that if something was so powerful that it could convince the strongest man he knew to throw in the towel, then it was definitely something to steer clear of. Austin knew though that not everyone thinks the same way. One man can watch his father go down in a sulfurous pit of flames called alcoholism and never touch a drop for as long as he lived. The next man could see the same thing and not help but follow in his old man’s ways, hating himself for it all the way down. That’s the thing about willpower, he thought, you either have the power to bend something to your will, or it’s power will bend you to it’s own.

  The hidden part on the back of the desk wasn’t used as much as he thought it would have been on the night of his 13th birthday. It wasn’t quite spacious enough for the bigger items he had, but it was the perfect fit for his laptop. Actually he could have fit about four laptops in it side by side and stacked two deep, but who has four laptops anyway? So it was basically only used to keep his sister’s hands and prying eyes off of something of his while he spent a night with a friend.

  After a year or two though, the hidden compartments basically just became a safety deposit box to hide his allowance from his sister. She had “borrowed” a twenty dollar bill from his Darth Vader helmet shaped piggy bank once so her and her best friend could get in to the water park down the street from their house.

  It paid for the entran
ce and some drinks and snacks poolside, with a little change leftover to finance a coke or two for the walk home. Brooke hoped to use her next week’s allowance to repay Lord Vader before Austin noticed a thing, but that is rarely how life goes. Bills come due before you get paid, engines give out when you’re farthest from home and brothers empty their piggy bank on Friday nights to take their girlfriend to the movies.

  Only he wasn’t able to take her to the movies, at least not a real movie with eight dollar popcorn and ten dollar sodas because fro some reason he was twenty dollars short. He could have sworn he hadn’t touched it since he stuffed last week’s allowance into it. As he was sitting on the couch watching Netflix sans girlfriend, the answer to where his money went had just appeared. His little sister came bubbling through the front door with her friend, both tomato skinned from a fresh sunburn and goofy on sugar.

  After that he used the desk as a safety deposit box, and now he keeps his entire life’s savings inside this secret place. When he first moved to town, he didn’t really have any other choice. The small bank that serviced his hometown only had the one branch. His mom told him to open an account at a bank in Austin the first chance he got. Which he meant to do, and still does, but life and Xbox one keeps chipping away at his spare time. He grabbed a twenty dollar bill, closed the secret compartment and and hustled down the stairs to meet Brian.

  “Sorry bud had to re-up my wallet, guess I spent a bit more money last night than I intended to,” Austin said as he was stepping off the last tread on to the ground. Brian threw down his cigarette and did a small twist with his right foot to crush the heat out.

  “I hear ya, I pretty much blew my stack last night just on dinner for Ashley and I, so thanks for hooking me up at the arcade after.”

  Once again, Brian wasn’t able to look Austin in the face or even in his general direction. It didn’t take a genius to tell that Brian wasn’t used to someone helping him out for no reason and wasn’t quite sure how to react to it.

  “Guess I am the one that owes you now, huh?” Brian added with a timid grin as they crossed the street in a mid-jog.

  “Nah its ok, don’t worry about it. I had fun with y’all last night. Besides, friends don’t need a ledger, just makes things messy.”

  Brian was visibly relieved at Austin’s words yet seemed perplexed at the generosity of those same words and tried to use some humor to bring levity to their conversation.

  “If you don’t like messy you should try doing some laundry once in a while, looks like you got some sorta dried-up mush on your ass,” Brian said pointing to Austin’s backside.

  Shit, I forgot about that.

  Austin’s head fell low in disappointment at himself and a little in embarrassment. He looked at his phone to check the time and Brian could tell he was debating internally whether he had enough time to run back up and change without being late. Before he had a chance to decide Brian was grabbing his backpack, pulling at the straps saying “Here, lemme jus’ fix this real quick.”

  “What the hell are you doing, man?” Austin asked feeling like he was getting pushed and pulled at the same time.

  “Look, no big deal just pull out the straps as far as they go,” Brian replied while moving to the next strap. “It might look a bit weird with your backpack riding on your ass but at least no one will see whatever the hell that is and at lunch you’ll have time to run back and change.”

  Austin looked like a dog chasing his own tail trying to make sure it was covered.

  Sure enough, he’s right. You can’t see a thing.

  Despite the fact that his books were thumping his rear end with every step and has day old dried goo on said rear end, Austin still had a bit of a pep in his step today. Brian kept droning on about the night before with Ashley and all the things he wished they would have done, and very little of the things that actually did take place, all the while Austin only thought of her. She had never been far from his mind yesterday after he saw her at Starbucks, but today she was the only thing on his mind.

  If the clothes Austin had put on this morning wasn’t enough evidence of this, him missing his turn and now blindly following Brian, should be enough to sway the jury. Not even walking into the building did he realize it was the wrong one, it wasn’t until Brian spoke up that he learned of his mistake.

  “Yo AK, you taking a shortcut that I don’t know about, or what?”

  Taking in his surroundings for the first time in minutes he noticed that he had no clue what building they were currently in.

  “Damn,” Austin said with a chortle, “I must have been in my own world for a minute there.”

  “Yeah. More like all morning, but whatever man, ya better hit the bricks if you’re gonna make it.” Brian said this as he stared at a community corkboard. His focus moving from one flyer to the next as if he was making a slow, elongated “w” with his nose.

  It seemed like no matter how much Austin tried to be on time or even a tad early to things, he was always running behind. He turned around and started an abbreviated version of mall walking to the glass doors, as he pushed it open he heard Brian call out.

  “Hey! At lunch after you change, why don’t you hit up the chicas and see if they wanna meet up again later.”

  Austin turned around, leaning his elbow on the metal push bar that spanned the middle of the door, “Anything free going on tonight? I don’t think I can afford too many more nights like last night.”

  Brian, still staring at the board, reached his hand up and ripped a piece of paper free from the push pin holding it in place.

  “I think I have an idea for that, shoot me a text as soon your classes are over,” shouted Brian.

  Without giving Austin time to answer he turned to the stairs that were only a few feet away and bounded up two steps at a time.

  Taking his cue, Austin turned back around, pushed the door fully open and started running in the right direction this time. The butt-pack had other plans, however, the longer and quicker the stride Austin took, the more sternly his books would disagree with the backs of his upper legs and butt cheeks. He had to resort to full blown mall walking mode, but even this didn’t bother him, not today, nothing could bring him down now. For he only had but a glimpse of his angel, and was anxious for another.

  1st ABC meeting

  12:16pm Brian: Don’t forget to hmu when your done

  12:16pm Austin: I won’t

  3:11pm Brian: You done yet?

  3:11pm Austin: Just barely

  3:12pm Brian: Cool meet me @ 1822 Lamar Blvd in 30 min

  3:12pm Austin: What is that?

  3:12pm Brian: u will see, stop bein pussy just be there

  3:12pm Brian: Did u hit up the girls yet?

  3:12pm Austin: not yet

  3:13pm Brian: ???

  According to his map app, the address Brian gave him was only about a fifteen minute walk. Anything longer than that and Austin might have taken a cab or rented a bike from one of those rental stations like Austin B Cycle or City Bike.

  Growing up in west Texas he was used to the August heat, but also being from West Texas he was not at all used to moisture. He was from the desert, literally the desert. There is a state park miles from the house he grew up in that is nothing but sand dunes. It was a fun place to hang out with friends in the spring, or even the milder winter months, to fling a Frisbee or ride some dirt bikes. In the dregs of summer, however, it was like crossing the Sahara without a camel.

  Here in Austin, it was just as the saying goes, it’s not the heat that gets you, it’s the humidity. It was more like the combination of the two that sapped your energy and released every ounce of sweat your body contained. Summer days in South Texas meant that your shirt stuck to your back when getting out of chairs and sweat stains are as constant as the speed of light.

  Sometimes the moisture was so thick and heavy it was like breathing through a damp rag, a refined water boarding technique from Mother Nature instead of the CIA. Doubling up on deodorant and A
xe spray was a necessity in order not to smell like the cushion of a padded seat in the back row of a backwoods holy rollin’, snake wranglin’ tent revival. So anything over his self-imposed 10 to 15 minute cut off mark called for something that either involved wind or air conditioning.

  Just under a block away from the pin point on his phone, he could see Brian. From this distance it looked like Brian was making out with a ghost for a second or two in between puffs on his cigarette. As Austin got closer he could tell Brian was trying to make smoke rings with each exhale of lung-filtered poisoned air.

  Austin was inwardly hoping that whatever this venture entailed that at the very least it would have air conditioning. He also wished he was the type of person that kept handkerchiefs in his back pocket right about now like an old, fat, southern lawyer from a Grisham novel. Then he would be able to dab the sweat from his face and whatever that white crud was that covered his lips, like a gentleman instead of using his shirt sleeve.

  As he got closer to Brian he could see an enormous sign about twenty feet across with big blue letters on top of the building Brian was leaning against that read “The Blood Center”. Under the awning was a wall of windows with their slogan scrawled on in bright purple cursive letters, “Life is in Your Hands”.

  Seriously? His bright idea for us to earn a little money was selling our blood? This should be fun.

  When Austin got about fifteen feet from Brian he lifted his hands palm side up to roughly the height of his biceps, universal body language essentially saying “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s not whatcha think.”

  “I hope not, I thought only crackheads and homeless crackheads sold their blood,” Austin said while cupping his hands up to his eyebrows and leaning next to Brian until his hands were against the heavily tinted windows trying to peek inside.

  “First of all,” Brian rebutted with a raised eyebrow “you watch too much TV, not only crackheads do it… just people hard up for cash.” Brian took one last long drag on his Newport until the paper burned up to the butt and he flicked it into the street. Two seconds later a truck thundered its way by dragging the butt away with its tailwind.