Full Tilt Duet Box Set

by Emma Scott

  I shot awake in the deepest part of the night. Creeping into the bedroom, I found Kacey still sleeping on, deeply and peacefully, and I knew then that she’d be okay. She’d fought the hardest battle and come out the other side.

  I lay back on the couch, covered my eyes with the arm, and let out another breath, this one loose and shaky.

  That was a close call, bro, I told Jonah. But she made it. She fucking made it. You’d be so proud of her.

  My thoughts began to scatter like beads of oil over water as sleep took me again.

  Proud of Kacey. She loves you so much.

  Loves you…

  Kacey

  I woke up feeling as if I’d been running for miles and miles—and months and months—chased by a monster that wanted to drown me. And now it was over. I’d won.

  I lay on my back, my bones sinking into the mattress. Had it always felt this soft? A deep sigh gusted out of me, and I closed my eyes against the too-bright light filling the window of my bedroom. The last few days—three? Four?—were like some awful, twisted nightmare. I remembered it in bits and pieces, sweat-soaked and agonizing. My body felt wrung out, squeezed dry, and I suspected that if I tried to talk, my voice would be hoarse from screaming.

  Teddy…

  I’d screamed at Teddy. He had run from the monster with me, catching me when I stumbled, and helping me keep my feet. I fell down a hundred times, but without him, I don’t know that I would’ve gotten back up again. And last night, I’d been on the verge of shattering into a million pieces until I felt Theo’s arms around me, holding me together. I remembered the sound of his strong heart beating in my ear, and how afraid I was until he said, “I’m here.” And then I could sleep.

  I climbed out of bed, my arms and legs full of lead, my head thudding in time with my pulse. In the living room, Theo lay on the couch, eyes closed. He was too big for my ratty old couch—one arm and one leg were dangling—but he lay deep asleep despite the shaft of sunlight slanting across him.

  It felt a little intrusive, watching him sleep, but I couldn’t help it. I’d been alone for so long, and Theo had materialized out of thin air on Baronne Street all those nights ago. Profound gratitude that he was there, lying on my too-small couch, brought tears to my eyes. I brushed them away and felt the puffy skin. My hair fell around my shoulders in a rat’s nest and I stunk. Badly.

  I retreated to my small bathroom. A small cry caught in my throat at the reflection in the mirror. I looked as if I’d been punched in both eyes and now had mild shiners. I touched the mess of my hair and wondered if I might have to cut it off.

  “But it’s over,” I told my pathetic reflection. The fluorescent light caught the glint in my eyes that was dimmed but not snuffed. “You did it, and it’s over.”

  Not quite. A small voice warned that I’d have to fight against the urge to drink for the rest of my life, but for the first time in a long time, I thought I had a chance.

  I shuddered as the shower loosened my stiff, aching limbs. My skin felt paper thin, my muscles weak. Dried off, I put on a fresh pair of sweatpants and the oldest, softest T-shirt I owned. I dragged a brush through my hair until my arm protested, then gave myself one last look in the bathroom mirror.

  Dark circles, sallow skin, bloodshot eyes.

  A definite improvement.

  Theo was still asleep as I slipped past the living room to the kitchen. A glance at the stove clock said it was after eleven a.m. I began making coffee as quietly as I could, but as I flicked on the faucet, he stirred and sat up, scratching his face and blinking.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Morning.” My voice felt like sandpaper against my throat.

  Theo watched me closely. “How’re you feeling?”

  I forced my own small smile. “Like a truck hit me, threw it in reverse and backed over me to finish the job.”

  As he stood up and stretched, I reached in a cabinet for a canister of coffee, while my mind reached into the blurry mess of the last few days, trying to sort the memories out. My hands shook as I struggled to separate one coffee filter from the stack.

  “Here, let me.” Theo got up and joined me in the kitchen.

  “I’m weak as hell,” I said, my cheeks burning with shame. “I wore myself out taking the shower and wrestling with my hair.”

  “But you did it.”

  I looked up at him. He practically filled my entire kitchen and yet I still couldn’t believe he was here. Solid and real, not a figment of my alcohol-drowned imagination.

  “Sit,” he said, his large hand gentle on my shoulder. “I got this.”

  I shuffled out of the kitchen and fell into the easy chair facing the couch. My body hugged around a pillow while Theo moved around my kitchen like he lived here.

  “At the risk of sounding like an idiot, when did you arrive in New Orleans?”

  “Five days ago,” Theo said.

  I shook my head, incredulous. “Five days and they’re all a blur.” I looked over at him. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “The bartender from Le Chacal called me,” Theo said, pouring water into the coffeemaker. “Mike. Big E. He overheard you talking tattoos with some guy and you kept repeating the name Teddy.”

  “And you dropped everything and flew halfway across the country.”

  The first scent of brewing coffee curled around the air. I hugged the pillow tighter as Theo came to sit on the couch.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “Don’t,” he said, waving his hand.

  “I have to,” I said, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand. “I have so much to be sorry for. Need to start somewhere.”

  “Start later,” Theo said. “Right now, you should try to eat something. I wasn’t able to get more than a few cups of water in you all this time, which is why you feel weak. Is there a place around here you like?”

  “Rooney’s Cafe. It’s a diner about a three-block walk from here. I stumbled in a couple of times when the booze made me crave greasy food.”

  “I’ll get us something from there,” he said, heading back to the kitchen. “You mind if I take a quick shower first?”

  “No. Go ahead.”

  I heard the watery bubble of coffee being poured into a cup, then Theo pressed the mug into my hand. I sipped and immediately set it down. Too hot. Too strong. Too much. Everything was too much, as if my body were made of rice paper, inside and out.

  Theo emerged from the shower ten minutes later looking darkly handsome in a blue T-shirt, jeans and boots. “What do you want to eat?”

  I tried to think of the least offensive food, something easy to chew and swallow. “Oatmeal would be great, thanks.”

  He started for the door, then stopped. “You got a house phone? For emergencies?”

  “No, just my cell…” My voice trailed off as a vague memory swam up at me. I sank into the chair under its weight. “Oh my God.”

  “You had a cell,” Theo said with a wry twist to his lips.

  “Teddy, I’m so sorry…”

  He cut me off again. “I’ll leave you my phone.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know. In case you feel really sick.” He shrugged, grinned. “Or maybe play some Fruit Ninja.”

  I smiled. “You think of everything.”

  In the quiet house, I took tiny sips of coffee and played one game of Solitaire before opening Theo’s contacts. The sheer amount of women’s names—mostly just first names—made me roll my eyes with a small laugh, but the laugh died out when my random scrolling landed on Dena. Then Oscar. The Fletcher’s home number. Tania, Jonah’s assistant. Eme, the curator at the Galleria.

  And Jonah.

  My thumb shook as it hovered over the call button. Would I hear his old voicemail message? Or did the Fletchers have it disconnected?

  Don’t. You’re barely hanging on after last night. You got nothing in your stomach. You don’t have a hand to hold. Don’t do this; you’re not strong enough yet.
r />   I hit call and slowly put the phone to my ear.

  Hey, you’ve reached Jonah Fletcher…

  My heart ripped in two as I remembered why I’d thrown away my old cell all those months ago.

  Leave me a message and I’ll call you back.

  He sounded so healthy. No hitching breaths, no fatigue turning his voice to a whisper. I could leave a message and he’d call back in five minutes. He could walk through the front door, bickering with Theo, carrying take-out from Rooney’s.

  Have a good one.

  I was still crying when Theo came back, bringing the scent of hash browns and eggs with him.

  He didn’t ask any questions, only set up the takeout on my splintered wooden coffee table: a small container of oatmeal for me and what looked to be like one of everything on the menu for himself.

  “I called Jonah,” I said, putting his cell on the table. “His number, I mean. The voicemail message set me off again. Serves me right for snooping. I’m sorry about that.”

  Theo’s thick dark brows furrowed. “No big deal.”

  “I just…want to stay honest,” I said. “From now on. It’s not much, but…I’m sorry—”

  “Hey.”

  His tone was sharp and I looked up miserably.

  “I do it too,” he said, his voice now low and soft. “I call him all the time. Just to hear his voice.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I had to throw my old phone away because I was calling him dozens of times a day.”

  Theo nodded. “I still talk about him in present tense.”

  Those simple words did more to lift my spirits than anything else; almost more than Theo holding me together over the last few days. I wanted to confess everything to him: why I left Vegas, why I was drinking myself to oblivion, but he was tearing into the food.

  “Fuck, I’m hungry,” he said, digging around the bags.

  “I’m sure you are,” I said. “I don’t have much to eat around here. I was on a liquid diet.” I glanced up at him. “You had your work cut out for you.”

  Theo shrugged. “What friends do,” he said, digging into a huge portion of biscuits and gravy.

  “Yeah, they fly halfway across the country to wrestle a screaming, puking banshee for three—”

  “Eat,” he said, jerking his chin at my oatmeal.

  I laughed a little—a rusty sound. “If you insist.”

  I picked at my oatmeal. My body felt like it had been turned inside out, then put back right-side in, but with everything in the wrong place. I put the smallest amount of oatmeal on my tongue. It tasted like warm paste with cinnamon. I forced myself to eat half a dozen bites, then set it down to watch Theo devour the feast in front of him. I rested my cheek in my hand, half-concealing my smile as he put away the biscuits and started in on a side of hash browns.

  Theo must’ve felt my eyes on him. “What?”

  “It’s good to see you again,” I said. “I’m sorry the circumstances are—”

  He pointed the fork at me. “Stop. Apologizing.”

  “It feels like I have a lot to apologize for.” I plucked at my paper napkin. “How’s Beverly?”

  “She’s okay. As good as can be expected.”

  “Is she upset with me?”

  “She was worried about you. We all were.”

  “I should’ve called her. I should’ve said something but…” I started to offer an excuse but swallowed it down, like bitter bile. “I owe her an apology, to say the least.”

  “I called her yesterday. Told her you were under the weather but getting better.”

  “Thank you.”

  He shrugged, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and took a sip of coffee.

  “What about your dad?” I asked, toying with my oatmeal.

  “He’s thrown himself into his work. He was semi-retired, but he’s been spending more time at the city hall trying to make himself useful. Fill the hours, I guess.”

  “And how do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Fill the hours.”

  “Work, mostly. The shop’s been really busy lately.”

  I dropped my spoon. “But now you’re here with me.”

  Theo tossed down his napkin and looked at me with hard eyes. “Yeah, I am. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat so stop stressing over it.” He smiled a little to soften his words. “You needed help, so I helped. Not a big deal.”

  It was a huge fucking deal but I let it drop. “Jesus, I don’t even know what day of the week it is. I might be missing work too.”

  “It’s Wednesday,” Theo said. “And I think you need to take some time off.”

  “I think you’re right. Can I borrow your phone?”

  I called Rufus, the owner of Le Chacal and told him I was too sick to play the next night. Sudden laryngitis. Thanks to my hoarse voice, he sounded only mildly irritated at the last-minute cancellation.

  “And Rufus?” I said, before we hung up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell Big E I said thank you. He’ll know what for.”

  I called the other clubs, telling them I was sick and would let them know when I was able to come back.

  If I come back, I thought.

  I handed Theo’s phone back to him. “When do you need to get back to Vegas?”

  “I was thinking I’d fly back Sunday night,” Theo said, cleaning up the remnants of our food. “Sound okay?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  Honestly, the thought of being alone scared the shit out of me. I’d only been fully sober—and not ravaged by withdrawals—for half a day. Theo was here for two more, so I decided to allow myself those two days to figure my shit out. I was too tired, too mentally and physically exhausted to do anything yet anyway.

  “Tomorrow I might be up to showing you around New Orleans,” I said. “Right now, I’m so tired. Do you want to watch a movie?”

  “Sure. I don’t know if you remember, but Dirty Dancing is making the rounds on cable. That’s 80’s right?”

  I smiled. “A classic. I’d love to give it another try.”

  He turned on my small flat screen and found the movie On Demand.

  “I didn’t even know I had cable,” I said.

  “That means you’ve been paying your bills,” Theo said.

  “Yeah, I guess I have,” I said.

  Theo sat on the couch, arms along both sides of the back, legs spread out. I curled tight in the chair but it wasn’t comfortable, and that old longing to touch and be touched was fierce in me. My body felt small and fragile, and needing the protective embrace of another human being. I cursed myself for being so pathetic. Theo had seen me at my worst—hysterical and sick, naked and puking—and had held me through it all. I felt hesitant to ask for more. Or maybe it felt hard to ask now because I was sober.

  I asked anyway.

  “Teddy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  He looked over at me. Something gentle passed over his eyes, then melted down his features, softening all the hard edges.

  “If you want.”

  He scooted to one side and I curled up beside him. Not touching him, but nearly. I could feel the warmth of his body, and smell the clean scent of his skin. Right around the time Baby and Johnny were practicing the lift in the lake, my head began to droop and my eyes kept falling shut.

  “Come here.” Theo put his arm around me. He sank lower into the cushions, making a pillow of his chest. His hand reached to pull the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over my legs.

  “Sleep,” he said.

  I sighed, melted against him and drifted away on the lake.

  Theo

  The next morning, she emerged from her room looking a million times better than she had all week. Her color was back, her hair brushed. It wasn’t bleached anymore—she said she’d been letting the natural color grow out, a kind of honey blonde.

  “I was too wasted to keep up with
the peroxide,” she said, she put down her onion bagel to examine a lock of hair. “I haven’t seen this color since I was fourteen. Kind of blah.”

  Kind of fucking gorgeous, I thought. The strange color of her eyes—light blue iris ringed in darker blue—was more vibrant against the brass-gold of her hair.

  I shrugged over my coffee cup. “Looks good.”

  Kacey smiled and chatted on. “How are Oscar and Dena?” she asked.

  “Engaged.”

  She sat up straighter. “Really? He finally popped the question?”

  “Yep.”

  “How did he propose?”

  “He took her to Great Basin a few months ago. Not exactly a surprise, but it’s his favorite place.”

  “It’s a great place.” Her eyes seemed to retreat, pulling inward. The gaze of someone falling back in time. “I think I blocked that entire camping trip to Great Basin from my mind. I had to. It was too perfect. The first time Jonah and I…” She glanced up through tears and sniffed a laugh. “Well, you know.”

  I kept my face expressionless. “Yeah, I know.”

  “It was the kicker though,” she said. “The memory that finally pulled me out of the withdrawals. I wonder why.”

  “It was a powerful memory. Like you said, you'd blocked the entire trip out. Yesterday morning you let it back in. Proverbial floodgates.”

  She laughed a little. “Literally and figuratively. I look like I lost a boxing match.”

  “But better now,” he said.

  “It still hurts. Really fucking badly. But it's a different kind of hurt. It's cleaner, somehow. Like I can cry if I need to, but I can stop if I need to, too. I didn't have that before. It's why I drank, I guess. To keep numb. So I wouldn't have to always be fighting back the pain. That was too exhausting.”

  A short silence dropped between us.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” she asked suddenly. “I’ve lived in this city for six months and still haven’t seen it.”

  “If you’re up for it?”

  “I think so. I feel better. And it doesn’t seem right you came all this way to just sit in the house.”

  “I wouldn’t mind getting out.”