by J. D. Brick
I’ve been in the bathroom for a while when Megz knocks softly on the door. “You still alive in there, Kee?”
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute. Sorry about this.”
“No worries.” I can hear her fingers tapping on the bathroom door. “Look, I’m exhausted. I’m going to go back to my boy now, okay? We’ll talk more tomorrow, huh?”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Megz. Thanks for coming to talk to me.”
I think for a moment she’s already gone back to Hunter’s room. But then I hear her voice outside the door.
“No, Kee. Thank you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Snakes
Keegan
My Monday morning class was canceled, and I was happy to be able to sleep in the next day. Maybe that’s why I’m so hard to wake up. Maybe that's why I hover on the edge of consciousness, close enough to reality to know someone is calling my name, but unable to pull myself completely out of the dream I’m having.
It’s the snake dream again. Just like before, I am on the river, on an air mattress, surrounded by my family. And just like before, we’re being pursued by water moccasins with familiar faces: Megz, Jason, Blue, Hunter. Only this time, the largest snake, the one leading the slithering nest with its mouth wide open and poison dripping from its fangs, has Detective Lugner's face. And instead of being buoyed along by the prickly heat of summer, we are shivering as winter's chilly gray mist settles into our bones, making us heavy and slow. Cold, muddy water sloshes in waves over our bodies.
Just like in my earlier dream, my mother's laughter suddenly turns into long, horrible screams. But I can't go to her, can't do anything for her, because Buick is trying to get my attention.
“Keegan.” His outstretched hand shakes me. “Keegan.”
My dream brother's voice is urgent, demanding. I try to pull away from him. I am angry at Buick. I've been angry at him for a long time. He is slowing me down, trying to tip over my air mattress and toss me into the dark, deadly water. And I can feel Lugner's reptilian breath on my heels; Lugner’s hissing, getting ready to strike.
“Keegan. Wake up.” Buick's hair tickles my cheek.
“Get a haircut,” I mutter, climbing through the remaining wisps of the dream world and opening my eyes to a painful blast of sunlight.
Buick, wearing the same flannel shirt and jeans he had on Thanksgiving Day, is sitting next to me on the bed; his hand squeezes my shoulder. “Huh?” He stares at me like I’m crazy. No idea why I mentioned his hair. I might have heard Virginia complain about his long locks at the ranch.
I sit up quickly, grabbing my head with both hands, trying to suppress the beginnings of a migraine. “Never mind. What are you doing in here, Buick? I thought you were dropping Kendra off yesterday. Why are you here now, waking me up?”
“Do you know where Kendra's car is?”
“What?”
“Kendra's car! She says she left it parked in front of the garage. But it's not there. We just got here, and her car is gone. Do you know where it is? Keegan! Get it together!”
I give him a sour look, tempted to launch into a lecture about the rich irony saturating the concept of Buick telling me to get it together. But I just shake my head, trying to clear away the last drowsy effects of my dream. “No, I have no idea where Kendra's car is.” I’m only vaguely aware that Kendra drives a battered-looking car of some kind and usually parks it in front of the house's detached garage.
“You didn't notice when you got back that it was gone?”
I start to get out of bed, then remember I have nothing on but a T-shirt and thong. “No, I didn't notice. I had other things on my mind.” Like the guy I'm in love with walking away from me. “Would you get out of here so I can put on some clothes?”
I come out into the hall a few minutes later in a pair of sweatpants and the ratty house slippers I've had since I was 15. Kendra is leaning against the wall next to her bedroom door, holding some kind of document in one hand and taking a long drag on a cigarette with the other. Blue and Buick are standing on either side of her. Blue wears only a pair of gym shorts and a bleary-eyed look that tells me he's been roused out of bed too.
Not my bed, though. For two nights now, we've slept apart. And it’s seemed like forever.
I try to avoid looking at Blue. But just like on the day we met, my body ignores my brain's instructions. My eyes roll all over him, touching his chest and arms and abs, his hands and lips. Oh God, his lips. Then my tongue practically breaks through my teeth trying to follow suit. And my lately-happy loins start some kind of crazy war dance. They are in revolt. They miss Blue. Every part of me aches for Blue.
He raises his eyes to mine just as I’m trying to tear my gaze away, and I can't help taking a sharp breath at the blazing mix of longing and pain that shoots through me. We stand there staring at each other until Buick clears his throat and waves a hand between us.
“Uh, sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but we need to help Kendra.”
I am still getting used to being around Buick again, and I’m sure not ready to wrap my head around this lightning-fast thing he has going with my prickly roommate. His man-in-charge tone really rubs me the wrong way too. It doesn’t sound like Buick; not the Buick I thought I knew anyway.
I put my hand up as if to block out his face. “What are we talking about?” I sound irritable, but I don’t care. “The car? Was it stolen?” I look at Kendra. “Shouldn't you call the police?”
She lets out a long, smoky sigh in my direction. “It's worse than that.”
I wave my hand in front of my face in disgust. “I didn't know you smoked.”
Kendra twists her mouth away from me and blows out again. “I quit last year,” she says, grimacing. “But I just started again. Like, just this fucking minute.” She shoves the papers in her hand at me. “Because of this unbelievable shit.”
I take the document from her and try to focus on it. A Notice of Repossession.
“My fucking ex stopped making the payments.” Kendra's voice wavers. “It was part of the divorce agreement. He was supposed to keep on paying for my car. And he just quit doing it.” She shrugs helplessly. “My credit was already crappy because of him. Now it'll be completely ruined. I can't afford to buy another car. I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do!”
A tear rolls down her cheek. And Buick tenderly scoops it off with his finger, then caresses Kendra's short, dyed-black hair. Who are you and what have you done with my idiot brother?
Kendra curls her free hand around his finger and smiles at him gratefully. It’s sweet. And kind of nauseating. And it sends a tremor of worry through me. Buick is just starting to get his life together. He’s not ready for some big, heavy relationship. At least, I don’t think he is. He certainly isn’t naive when it comes to sex. Not that it’s something I even want to think about. But I’m pretty sure he's had lots of experience.
Buick has been turning female heads for years. Girls can't seem to keep their hands off him. But he's always been a Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am kind of guy. As far as I know, he's never been in love. I've never seen him act the way he is acting with Kendra. And they've only known each other a few days. It’s ridiculous.
Compared to Buick, Kendra is practically ancient. Plus she’s carrying around a lot of baggage. I'd pretended to write off Buick when he was arrested, just like Virginia. But he is my kid brother. I don't want to see him get hurt.
“You can use my truck,” he is saying to Kendra. “I'll catch a bus back. You use the truck 'til we figure something out.”
Kendra shakes her head. “No, I can't do that, Buick. But thank you. You have no idea. Thank you.” I watch her eyes rake his body in exactly the lusty way mine had raked over Blue a few moments earlier. Eww.
“It's not your truck to loan, Buick.” I know I sound snippy. But grandson or not, Buick will find his ass fired if he lets someone borrow a Cooke vehicle without Virginia's permission. He needs his job at the ranch. “I can let Kendra borrow my
car when I don't need it, and I'm sure Blue can, too. Shouldn't you be getting back to the ranch? Virginia's not paying you to be off. . .”
I've just registered the annoyed expression crossing Buick's face when a whoosh of air from Hunter's thrown-open door makes me stop talking. Hunter is standing there with his hands on each side of the door frame. He’s naked and looks royally pissed off. “Do you people have to hold this stupid conversation right outside my fucking door at this ridiculous time of day? Huh?”
I can see there’s someone in Hunter's bed, presumably Megz, but I can’t tell if she’s awake. “What time is it, anyway? Why the fuck are you waking us up this early?”
Blue crosses the hall in two long strides and gets right in Hunter's face, his fists clenched at his sides. “Jesus, Hunter, put some fucking clothes on. How many times do we have to be forced to see your dick? Do you think it's something special, that everybody wants to take a look? Put your fucking pants on, you arrogant piece of shit, and then maybe we'll listen to you bitch about being woke up!”
Something about Hunter sends Blue into a white-hot rage every time they are together. I think for a moment Blue’s going to slug him. “Blue. . .” I say. He ignores me.
Hunter leans closer so they’re only a couple of inches apart. He acts like he’s going to spit in Blue's face. But then he smirks and steps back, holding his hands up. “So sorry, Soldier Boy. No disrespect intended. I wouldn't dream of comparing myself to you in the dick department.” His eyes flicker over to me, then back to Blue. “I'll do just what you said, Private Danube. I'll go put my pants on like a good little boy.”
He slams the door in Blue's face.
“So,” Buick drawls after a moment's silence, “that’s Hunter.” Buick has this dry sense of humor that used to crack me up a lot when we were kids. This time, it’s Kendra who laughs.
“Yep. That's him,” she says, taking another drag on the cigarette, then stepping into the bathroom to throw the butt in the toilet. “And in a weird way,” she adds cheerfully on her way back, “that little bit of drama makes me feel better. A little better, anyway.”
She yanks the paperwork out of my hand and grabs Buick by the arm, leading him into her bedroom. “I'll deal with the car problem later,” she says to me and Blue as she’s closing the door. “Right now, I want to say goodbye to this cowboy in a way he won't forget.” Just before the door shuts with a click, I catch a glimpse of my brother's big-ass grin. Eww.
Blue hasn't moved. He just stands there staring at Hunter's door. I step toward him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my forehead into his back. He flinches, then gets very still. “Come to my room, Blue,” I whisper into his skin. “Come talk to me. Come. . .just. . .hold me. Please. I need you. Don't shut me out. Please.” I sound desperate. I sound needy. I don’t care.
Blue grips my hands, still wrapped around his waist. I think he’s about to shrug me off and walk away. Tears prickle my eyes, getting ready for what’s coming. But then he whips around and pulls me into his arms, holds me against his chest like he will never let me go. “Keegan.” That's all he says. All he needs to say.
After a few moments, we turn as one and walk into my room, me clinging to Blue as he kicks the door closed.
I slept through my one o'clock class and wake with a start just before three. The afternoon sun is piercing Just Brenna's curtains and lighting up my room. Deep, regular breaths touch my shoulder. A leg’s thrown over mine, and a pair of arms clutch me in a warm embrace. I am tangled up in Blue.
I want to stay right where I am. All day. All night. But I’m late getting to the newsroom. I take a deep breath in and close my eyes, my fingers tracing the veins in Blue’s hand. His arm feels heavy, wonderfully heavy, on my body. But I can’t stop thinking about The Daily. I’ve got a lot of work to do.
Finally, I lift Blue's arm with one of my hands and slowly ease out of the bed, then place his arm gently back down and stand for a moment watching him sleep. He looks so peaceful, so untroubled. I kiss his forehead and grab some clothes, heading for the bathroom.
The newsroom has a different vibe for the semester’s last issue of the paper. Everyone is in a hurry to put it to bed and start studying for finals, start preparing to head home for the holidays. Editors and reporters snap at each other, argue over insignificant details, explode over issues that normally would have had them laughing. And Jason’s the king of cranky today. He snarls and rants, chews people out for the slightest thing. You can practically see the black thunderclouds forming over his head as he stalks from one desk to another before he finally retreats into his office and slams the door.
But none of it bothers me. I’m blissfully happy. I am tangled up, body, mind and soul, in Blue Danube. He's come back to me. He loves me. Nothing else matters.
By 8:30 PM, only Jason and I remain in the newsroom. I've just shut off my computer when he steps into my office and stands there looking at the bound, old copies of The Daily.
“So are you feeling less pissy now that we're all done for the semester?” I ask jovially. He doesn’t respond, does not look at me. I try again. “Man, I've never seen you so crazed before. You scared everybody.” I laugh to show him I understand. “But it's all done now. We can relax 'til next semester.”
Jason smirks and very slowly shakes his head. "Unbelievable." The word is loaded with sarcasm; it feels like a slap across the face. Jason finally looks at me, his eyes so full of hate it makes my jaw drop. “You can't really be this stupid, Keegan. Nobody is that stupid!”
“What. . .what do you mean?”
He doesn’t answer, just turns as the door to the newsroom opens. And all my elation vanishes, dissolved in an instant by the venomous sneer on Detective Lugner's face.
“Hey Uncle Frank.”
It takes me a few moments to register Jason's words, as well as his smug tone. I seem to be frozen, iced over from the inside out, my thoughts traveling in slow motion, trying to catch up with the wave of cold horror that’s washing through me.
Something is wrong; that much I know. But as I sit there watching Jason and Lugner exchange knowing smiles, I can't speak, can't move, can't think straight. I try to swallow, but I can't even do that.
Lugner walks into my office and slips an arm around Jason's shoulders. “Did I happen to mention, Keegan, that Jason is my nephew?” It sounds like the mildest of questions, but it’s laced with poison. “He's my sister's son. My sister, who was editor of this paper in the 80s. Our mother, Jason's grandmother, was editor of this paper in the 60s. And my nephew should have been editor this year. Until you came along.”
His voice gets a little higher and more caustic. “Until Virginia Cooke's granddaughter comes sailing in here with her stupid blog and her powerful family. A sophomore who somehow manages to get herself chosen as editor.”
Flecks of spit fly out of his mouth and land on my arm. I find myself staring at the overburdened shirt button at the apex of his belly. I’m having a hard time raising my eyes to meet his.
“Well, we know how she did that,” Jason scoffs. That makes me look up. I glare at Jason. There’s something in his voice, some faint note of hesitation, that tells me he is not completely comfortable with what’s happening, that he’s following his uncle's lead.
“You couldn't just wait your turn, put in your time like Jason has done, could you?” Lugner's arm drops away from Jason, and he puts his hands on my desk, leaning closer to me, again spewing spit.
“You had to get that bitch of a grandmother of yours to pay off the journalism board, buy the job for you, like you thought you were entitled to it.”
That's when I go from ice-cold to boiling hot in one surge of rage. I’m on my feet before I even know it. “That's a lie!” I shout in Lugner's face. She didn't buy anything. I earned this job. They wanted me because I was better at it than your nephew. He had his chance. He had a better chance than I did 'cause he's a senior. And he blew it!”
Jason sputters, and whatever ambivalence I m
ay have sensed in him vanishes. “There's no way you earned it!” he screams, his face contorted into a sneer. “It was my job, and you stole it. You fucking stole it, Keegan. My senior year, my only chance to be editor. And you took it away from me!”
I close my eyes and took a deep breath. I am still playing catch-up, mentally, still connecting the dots. “You're the ones who've been stalking me? So. . .what. . .you thought you could drive me away from here by sending me all that nasty crap? By writing all that horrible stuff all over campus? You thought you could scare me into giving up this job? Are you crazy? Did you really think you could get away with this?”
“It was working,”Jason sneers. “You were scared shitless and doing a crappy job as editor. You were doubting yourself, and you were screwing things up. It was obvious to everybody. It was working until. . .”
“. . .until you started fucking some fake war hero who thinks he's tough shit,” Lugner cuts in. “And he had my nephew thinking it too.” He casts a snide look at Jason. "Somebody got cold feet and called it off when he thought Blue Danube was going to figure things out."
Jason flushes angrily. “He would have figured it out, Uncle Frank, and then we'd have been in trouble, both of us.” There’s a whine in his voice.
“Oh, horseshit.” Lugner waves a hand in front of his face. He sounds disgusted. “You think I couldn't have handled him? Anyway, none of that matters now, because we ended up with something much, much better.”
Lugner gives me an eerie smile as he pulls his phone out of his pants pocket, and my stomach twists. The smile stays on his lips as he punches at his phone. When he looks up at me, his eyes gleam with triumph.
“You really should be more careful about who you choose as friends, Keegan.” He thrusts the phone at me. And even before I see the image on the screen, I know. All kinds of little clues are coming together in my head, and I know. Still, I gasp when I see the picture on Lugner's phone of my journal, flipped open to the last page I’d been writing on when I closed it and left it on the bed last night.
