Refired (Recovery Book 1)

by BA Tortuga

  Josh looked over at him, waved. “Hey! I was waiting for you to reappear!”

  “Were you?” Kris gestured at the bottle. “Looks like you were hoping I’d stay gone.”

  “Huh?” Josh stood up, legs tangling for a second in Cypress’s skirt-thing. “You okay?”

  “No.” He clenched his hands into fists to keep them at his sides. “No, I’m not okay. You promised me, Josh. Swore you weren’t drinking anymore.”

  “Drinking what? You want some? I’ll share.” Jesus Christ, how drunk was Josh? The smell of beer just flowed from the little crowd of folks, all gone quiet now.

  “No. God, no.” Fuck, he didn’t know where to look, what to say. “Jesus, how much beer have you had?”

  “What? None.” Josh’s head tilted, the look slowly sliding from confused to hurt. Like Josh had the right to be hurt? He loved the son of a bitch, and Josh had thrown it away for a quick high.

  “You’re going to lie to me now?” he snapped.

  “Don’t do this, Kris. Please.”

  “Do what? Call you out? I swear, I thought—” He cut himself off. Thinking always got him in trouble. “I should have accepted that damned offer.”

  Josh looked at him, then walked right up to him, like Josh was going to kiss him, then Josh’s lip curled, and he snarled, “Sarsaparilla.”

  “What?”

  The bottle slammed into his chest, shoving his breath right out of him and leaving him gasping with the sudden violence of the blow. “It’s motherfucking sarsaparilla, you lousy, distrusting son of a bitch. You’re a goddamn cowboy, right? Surely you’ve fucking heard of it. Taste it and see. Naki homebrews it.”

  “You smell like beer.” He stared down at the bottle, the label a homemade sticker that read Naki Soda, his brain trying to catch up.

  “Don’t you mean that I smell like a disgusting drunk? That I smell like a piece of trash, something you just want to get off you?” He got another shove, this one harder, separating them. “You take that fucking check for the gallery, and I swear by all that’s holy that I’ll burn the building down, you hear me? I’m a half owner, and you don’t have my consent on anything. Not a goddamn thing.”

  Somewhere he’d lost the thread here, lost control of everything. Kris fucking prided himself on his control. “Josh—”

  “I thought you loved me, man. Shit, I thought you got it, how hard I worked so that you’d forgive me, and it doesn’t mean dick. It doesn’t mean anything to you. You’ve just been playing me to get me to agree to sell.” Josh looked at him like he was some sort of bug, like he’d broken something deeper than he could even understand.

  “Love you? Jesus, Josh. I want to believe in you.” He couldn’t, though, could he? Too much water had washed over that bridge.

  “But you don’t.” Josh’s lips twisted, then eased up as his pointed chin lifted. “Whatever works for you, cowboy. See you.”

  Then Josh turned his back and headed off into the night.

  Josh had never been the one to walk away. Never. Kris dropped the bottle he’d instinctively grasped. “Josh. Wait.”

  “I did. I did that already. I’m done wasting my time on waiting around for you to decide I’m not a worthless drunk.” Josh’s words seemed so loud in the shocked silence, and suddenly all those eyes on him seemed to be judging him and finding him wanting. “Go fuck yourself, Kris. That’s the only man that’s going to be perfect enough to pass all your tests.”

  Josh marched off into the night, and now Kris couldn’t make his feet move. They were frozen to the New Mexico dust. Josh was both right and wrong. Kris had been waiting for Josh to fail, but Kris was the last person who could ever live up to his own expectations.

  9

  Josh walked until he couldn’t see the light from the fire, until he was sure that, even though he wanted Kris to, no one was following him.

  He felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if he couldn’t manage to find space for his lungs to expand through the agony.

  He sat down on the sand, knowing it was a stupid thing to do. Everything here bit or stung or stuck, but that might be a relief, just to have a hurt that he understood, that he felt like he could deal with.

  God, he might just be the dumbest bastard alive.

  His fingers curled in his lap, squeezed into fists as he fought the urge to…. Shit, he didn’t even know. He’d been waiting for Kris to come back so they could…. God. He didn’t even want to remember how happy he’d been.

  He wanted a drink, so bad that he doubled over with the sudden hunger. Josh pounded his fists on the dirt, so fucking angry he wanted to scream with it. Losing Kris had been the catalyst for him to quit drinking, and he’d be damned if going through it again was gonna make him start up.

  He grabbed his phone and prayed for a signal. “Please, Zack. Please.”

  If he’d ever needed a friendly voice, it was now.

  “Josh.” Zack’s warm voice reached out to him from Texas, deep and familiar. “What’s up?”

  He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t even talk. The words were stuck inside him. Fuck, after the way he’d lost his shit at Kris, maybe they were all used up.

  “Josh? What’s wrong?” Concern crept into Zack’s tone.

  “I… I….” I suck. I’m sorry. I’m scared. I need help or hope or something else that starts with an h. “He thought I slipped. I thought he trusted me.”

  “What? Slow down, okay? Take a deep breath and start at the beginning.”

  He shook his head. Where was the beginning? He was an alcoholic? Kris’s mom was an alcoholic and had scarred him for life somehow? Josh wasn’t good enough for Kris, and he never would be? He didn’t know anymore. Maybe he’d never been smart enough or cowboy enough or whatever to figure it out. “I wasn’t. I didn’t. I swear to you. It was sarsaparilla. That cowboy stuff.”

  “I know that, Josh. Even if you were having a slip, it doesn’t make you a monster. You know that. But I know you. You’re not going to slip.” The surety in Zack’s voice helped his breath ease in and out.

  “I thought…. I’m so fucking stupid, man. I fucked up this time. I believed.” And that was it, wasn’t it? He’d believed that he’d paid enough, given enough, but he hadn’t. There wasn’t enough of him in Kris’s eyes to make up for what was inherently cracked.

  Broken pottery wasn’t Kris’s thing, patched with gold or not.

  “Hey, faith is never misguided, even if it ends up hurting us. Where are you, man? I can come get you.”

  “Faith is bullshit, and we both know it.” The bitterness in him made it hard to swallow it down and pretend to be all Zen and shit.

  “No, that’s hope,” Zack teased, the words familiar. “Where are you?”

  “Madrid. Up in the mountains. I don’t know what to do.” And that was it. He’d thought he’d known, just an hour ago.

  “Shit. Did he leave you stranded?” Now Zack was working on a good mad, he could tell.

  “I don’t know. I walked away. I’m… I don’t know where I am.” He laughed, but the sound was dry as dust. “This would be funny, if I was drunk.”

  “Hey, I’m here with you, okay? First you have to orient yourself.” Zack was a hunting guide in the fall. He knew how to get around.

  “At least my phone has a charge, huh?” He hadn’t had the need to plug in, not ’til now.

  “Yep. It’s the little victories, Josh.” Zack could totally sound like an AA brochure sometimes.

  “Fuck you, you bleeding liberal, fudge-packing, pseudo-hipster dick muncher.” Okay, that felt really good.

  Zack laughed now, the sound fond. “Get it all out, bud.”

  He managed a chuckle himself. “I love him, man. I mean, I really do, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t be with a guy that’s waiting for me to screw up.”

  “No, you can’t. At some point, you have to allow yourself to be happy, Josh, and not wait for the other shoe to fall all the time.”

  “I miss you.” Not like he already missed
Kris. He’d miss Kris until the end of time. Kris had carved a space for himself in his soul. Zack was his brother and the one who understood the demon at the door.

  Kris thought he got it, but he was just fucking afraid of it. Josh had let the beast in, given himself over, then had stood up and walked away.

  “I can be there in what, nine hours? Ten? Say the word.”

  “Twelve. Please.” He needed help, and he didn’t know how to get it. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Yep. With an all-I-can-eat trip to the Salt Lick. Where the hell are you again?” Zack asked.

  “Make it to Santa Fe. Someone here can get me there.” He had zero idea of what would happen next, but Zack was a make-it-happen kind of dude.

  “I can do that. Hell, I might fly in, and we can rent an SUV to drive back. I’ll look into it. You get your ass back to civilization.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, hey. Thanks, huh. I….” I loved him, and I thought that was going to be enough, and now I’m ashamed because it wasn’t. “I totally owe you.”

  “Bullshit. Do you need me to stay on with you while you find your way back?”

  “No. I’m not worthless or stupid. I just needed to talk to someone for a second.”

  “Hey! I never said you were. You just said you were lost, is all.” Zack sighed. “I love you, man. I want you to be okay.”

  “I know. I know. I’m not pissed. I mean, not at you anyway. I’m just tender on the edges, and I have to go back, you know. Where everyone heard the fight.”

  “Well, at least you have the might of right, or whatever.”

  “You turd.” Josh started to cackle, and he stood up, brushed off his legs. “I didn’t have a drink. I may have lost a lot, but I didn’t lose that.”

  “There you go. You hold on to that, and I’ll be there soon. I’m ready to see your hairy ass,” Zack said.

  “Yeah, yeah. See you soon.”

  “You know it.” Zack hung up, leaving him with the chirps and rustles of a desert night.

  “Josh? Josh, man?” A voice he recognized as one of the artists he’d been hanging out with tonight—a short dude with a tattoo of bats on his face—rang out.

  “I’m here.” He swiped his phone so someone could see the light.

  “Dude! There you are. You okay?” Bat guy appeared in the gloom, standing only inches away.

  “Yeah. Yeah, that was…. Sorry about that.” Is Kris still here?

  “No worries. Uh, your, um…. Well, the other dude, he asked us to give you a ride into town in the morning. He’ll leave the car at the B and B, if you know what that means.”

  “Oh. Okay. Is there…. Are there hotels here? Even a campground?”

  “Don’t be silly, honey.” Cypress was there suddenly, hugging him tight. “You’ll stay with me. However long you need.”

  His eyes filled with tears for the first time, and he was so glad it was dark. “Yeah?”

  “Of course. Heck, Shamus here can take Ed and go into town to get that car, unless you want to go, and you can just hang out. Kris said he’d pay out the B and B bill.”

  “Yeah. I… I just want to go hide for a little while, you know?”

  “I get that.” Cypress looped an arm around his waist, tugging him toward the firelight. They skirted the much more subdued party, though, and headed into the dark, cool adobe. “Let me make you tea.”

  “I’m so sorry about this, man.” He seemed to be apologizing a lot.

  Cypress snorted. “You owe me no apologies, honey. Your man was out of line.”

  He almost argued, but Kris had been out of line. Josh hadn’t done anything wrong, for once. In fact, he’d been basking in the glow of how well he and Kris were doing, and had been completely caught off guard by the blowup.

  His belly drew in tight, his heart pounding against his ribs. God.

  “Tea. I swear, it will help. Chamomile and valerian.”

  “’Kay. Thank you.” The pottery cup was warm, the tea smelling of green things and honey. “I don’t know what to do next.”

  “You don’t have to. We’ll have tea; we’ll go to bed. Tomorrow there will be sun.”

  Josh didn’t think sun—or tea for that matter—would help what was wrong with him. Cypress seemed so sure, though, and he let that confidence wash over him in place of his own shattered feelings.

  “I’m sorry about all this. I hope… you’ll still let me show your work? I want to share it with Austin.”

  “You know it.” Cypress came and gave him another one of those hugs, nonsexual and comforting, just a warm touch. He took it. He needed to feel like he wasn’t floating around in a pool of emptiness. Lost.

  When Cypress pressed another cup of tea into his hand, Josh took it, and before long his eyelids felt heavy.

  “Come on, now. Rest. Tomorrow we’ll think.”

  He was eased onto a low bed, his shoes removed as if by magic. Then Cypress was there, warm and still next to him. He needed to check his phone, see if Kris had texted, see how much battery he had left.

  His body felt too heavy to move, though, and his racing thoughts slowed like molasses in winter. Maybe he could just sleep for a bit first.

  “You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Cypress’s voice was hypnotic, so soothing.

  Josh nodded, his head so heavy, like a dandelion ready to blow off in the wind. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” His hand was squeezed once, and he fell into blessedly dreamless sleep where Kris wasn’t allowed.

  Not anymore.

  DFW looked so relentlessly cheerful at six-something in the morning that Kris wanted to scream. All bright lights and bustle, as if airport time existed on its own, apart from the real world.

  He bypassed the Starbucks and went right to the one open restaurant-cum-bar in his concourse, wanting to drown his sorrows in something, even if it was pancakes and syrup.

  His flight to Austin didn’t leave for another three hours. Jesus.

  A tired-looking hostess walked up to him and offered him a halfhearted smile. “Table for one, or the bar?”

  “I’ll just sit at the bar, hon.” At least she looked like he felt. Not chipper.

  “Works for me. Bartender’s name is Janelle. I’m Cathy. Here’s a menu, honey. I’ll grab her.”

  “Thank you.” He dropped the carry-on he’d bought in Albuquerque on the stool next to him and sat, groaning when his back protested. Christ, what a long night.

  He stared at the menu, the letters blurring. God, what had he done? His head pounded, his mouth dry as the Albuquerque desert he’d just left. Josh hadn’t been doing a damned thing wrong. Nothing. Kris had just lost it.

  He pulled out his phone, wanting to call, to apologize and tell Josh that he hadn’t meant it, he was so fucking sorry, but it wouldn’t matter.

  He’d do it again. He hated it, but he would. His knee-jerk reaction to any kind of alcohol and Josh in the same room would never change. Kris didn’t know how to change any more than he had in his life.

  “What can I get you, sir?” The bartender’s voice surprised him so much that he dropped his phone with a clatter. She had to be ninety thousand years old. The urge to ask if she’d gone to school with Moses was huge.

  “Sorry.” He picked up the phone, then tucked it away. He opened his mouth to say Bloody Mary, but “Coffee” was what came out.

  “Surely. You want some food?”

  “What do you have in diabetic shock?”

  “Waffles. Pancakes. Apple and maple sausage.”

  “Waffles and sausage, please.” He could clog his arteries at the same time as he lost the feeling in his fingers and toes.

  “You got it. You want a shot of whiskey in that coffee? You look like you could use it.” Janelle sounded like she knew of what she spoke.

  “I’d love one, but I’m on the wagon.” What kind of hypocrite would he be if he gave in now and got drunk to spite Josh and himself and shit?

  “Oh, dude. Sorry. I get it. Totally.”r />
  “Thanks. I’ll just sit and smell the bar.” He winked at her, his chest aching too.

  “It gets better, huh? No matter what it is, it does.” Her crepe-paper hand was cool where she patted him.

  “That’s what they tell me.” Kris didn’t believe it. How many times could he lose the same lover before it crushed him?

  “I’ll put your order in.” She left him alone then, and he didn’t mind. His misery was too big to share.

  Hell, all he had to do was call, and he couldn’t do that. How could he chat with Methuselah’s bartending gramma?

  10

  Josh wished he could say that he wasn’t tempted to have a drink when they pulled up to the B and B to get the SUV and his things, but it would be a lie.

  The thought of confronting Kris made him sick, and the idea that Kris wasn’t there to fight with was even worse.

  He wanted to scream and punch Kris in the mouth, but more than that, he wanted to believe they could get their shit together, that it wasn’t really over.

  Cy had called his ex, Lonan, early that morning to drive them over to Santa Fe, because Shamus and Ed had disappeared, gone on some spirit quest. Josh had been stunned to meet the huge Navajo man with hands like Christmas hams and a face like carved stone. He’d expected someone more colorful, more like Cy, like a pretty bird. Lonan felt like some sort of Native American gargoyle, like rock brought to life.

  Lonan had stayed long enough to make sure Kris’s car was still there, but that was it. Cy had fluttered and offered thanks and money, but Lonan hadn’t spoken, just nodded once and pulled off.

  Seemed to him like Cy empathized with things better than Josh had expected.

  Hal wasn’t anywhere to be seen as Josh headed into the room, which was a blessing, because he was holding on by the skin of his teeth. They got to the room, unlocked the door, and his mouth went dry.

  Kris was gone.

  No suitcase. Nothing. Not even a note.

  No fair.

  “You okay, honey?” Cy asked, and he shook his head.

  He needed a drink.

  No, he needed a whole bottle. Two. He needed the booze to ease the hurt, to back him up, strengthen him. The only saving grace he had was that there wasn’t any alcohol to have.