by Dee J. Adams
“Here’s the thing.” Her voice was soft and shaky as she unwrapped her last piece of chocolate. “I don’t live in the past, and I do my best to plan for the future, but I live in the now.” She shrugged. “The fact is, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow or next week or ten minutes from now.” Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. “So I joke because I can. Because I like to make people laugh.” She met his gaze and the corner of her lips lifted. “I especially like to make you laugh.” Troy’s chest got tight. “I have no control of the big things in life. I only have control of the little things. I may not always be politically correct and sometimes my timing is off...and sometimes the subject matter is way too grim for comedy. But if I don’t crack a joke then I might cry and that simply sucks a big one.”
Despite the ache in his chest, Troy grinned.
She winked at him. “So we’ll work on your comedy and you’ll be laughing at the macabre in no time.” She popped the chocolate into her mouth.
The fresh twinkle in her eyes bowled him over. “Will we?” She made him smile, made him want to be as lighthearted as she was. Problem was, he didn’t know how to be that person. But he wanted to be. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to be the guy Julie Fraser smiled at, laughed with and went to bed with for the rest of time.
Tall order. He would’ve rolled his eyes if she hadn’t been looking at him so intently.
“Yes, we will,” she said in answer to his question. She’d settled back in her seat almost sideways so she faced him with one leg bent up against her chest, her bad leg stretched out. She had the softest, sexiest look in her eyes. Just that fast, a vision of her tied down to the bed flashed through his mind. Her arms tied over her head, her legs bound, spread eagle. All that soft skin and toned muscle. Blood rushed south and his jeans got tighter behind the zipper. A lot tighter. He had the urge to pull over and make love to her in the backseat of his car.
“What else?” she asked. “I want to know more about you.”
He should’ve seen it coming, right? He was a P.I. for God’s sake. He went with the old standby. “There’s not much to tell.”
“Where did you move to when you were nine?” She looked so fucking interested, so excited to hear more, as if she needed this information to be happy. How could he deny her?
“New Jersey.”
“Did you like it?”
He shrugged. “It was okay. Not great.” He’d been miserable. He’d missed his mom. “I missed my home, my uncle and my friends.” Without family, there’d been no shield from his dad. His mom had always been the buffer. Troy shook off the mental cloud. If he didn’t direct this conversation where he wanted it to go, he’d end up spilling way more than he ever planned. “I liked Sandy Hook. I could get lost there all day, looking for seashells or sand crabs and not have to worry about being underfoot at home or pissing off my dad.” Or feeling the hot sting of a belt on his back.
“Sounds like your dad got violent. Is that what I’m hearing without you actually saying it?”
He glanced at her. It was as if she read his mind. But he nodded because she deserved the truth. “Yeah. He was a class A son of a bitch.”
This time she stroked her hand down his thigh. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” She tipped her head against the seat rest. “Sounds like our dads needed a how-to pamphlet.” She snorted. “You’d think there would be some kind of test to pass before a person is allowed to bring kids into the world. I lost track of how often my father lied to me and let me down. All the times he’d said he’d be somewhere, and all the times I was left stranded or hoping to see him when I had a performance at school. Never stopped him from making promises he couldn’t keep. Never stopped him from lying about where he was or what he was doing.” She sighed. “He taught me one thing... I know exactly what I won’t put up with. No drugs. No fake promises. No violence. No lies.”
Chapter Eighteen
Carrie Ann came out of the audition and stepped into the bright California afternoon. The smile she’d left the office with disappeared from her face the second she turned her back. Those fuckers. Did they think she didn’t know what they thought of her? Did they think she couldn’t read their eyes and silent communication? Fuckers. She could kill every one of them in a second if she wanted to. She worked out. She took self-defense. She had an arsenal of weapons and knew how to break an arm in multiple places. How much different could it be to break a neck?
Carrie Ann jerked her car door open, settled into the seat and slammed the door shut. Fuckers, every one of them.
If Julie had been in town, she could’ve helped her prepare for the audition. But, no, Julie had run like a scared rabbit because someone was trying to kill her. What a pussy. Carrie Ann would never let someone scare her away from her home. Hell no. She’d fight to the death to keep what she’d worked so hard for.
Julie was pissing her off more and more. Everything came to her best friend without any effort on her part at all. Carrie Ann worked just as hard as Julie, but did the good scripts come to her agent? She just kept getting every indie script under the sun and hoped that one of them broke through. Unlike Julie, who had scripts and projects just waiting for her to sign on, Carrie Ann still had to audition for great parts and rarely got the ones she wanted. The most recent example being Ari Nepali’s latest film.
She never should’ve trusted Julie to help her get the part. It was all a bunch of lies, a bunch of bullshit. If Julie had really wanted to help her, she’d have backed out of the movie for good.
Carrie Ann slammed her palm against the steering wheel and pain shot through her hand and up her arm. She didn’t give a shit. Julie, fucking Julie, had stolen another part that should have been hers. How many more times was she going to live through something like this? How much was she supposed to take before something snapped? Carrie Ann wanted to roar, to hit something. Why was life so fucking unfair?
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Obsessing about Julie wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Carrie Ann glanced at her phone. Al still hadn’t called her. She was pretty sure she’d scared the hell out of him last night. Clearly the guy’d had very limited sack time with women.
Anyone could see he was a nerd. His short curly hair stuck out in odd directions. Those thick glasses covered intense, dark eyes. Even his stubble had grown in uneven, leaving little patches of skin soft and smooth. He cracked her up.
His fortune, however, was a serious matter.
Once she’d hit town, Leo Frost had avoided her like she carried an STD. Her plan to use him for some much needed PR sank like the Titanic. But Al was a different story. Nothing opened doors like money, and hooking up with a rich nerd could be just as valuable as hooking up with a Hollywood star.
She’d found plenty of Al Gateses when she’d Googled him, but not her Al Gates. He’d said his game was in final testing stages and she had no idea how that industry worked, so it was possible no news about him didn’t mean anything. The house at the top of the hill sure said money. She just wasn’t sure everything added up. There was something off about him, but she wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Nerdy, genius types were bound to be weird. That’s what made them nerdy and genius.
Carrie Ann cranked the car engine and glanced at her phone. At least Drew hadn’t called with an emergency. She needed to get to the house before the movers left. She turned the AC full blast and drove to her old house, the place Drew and she grew up in, the home he’d never left.
She arrived in time to see the movers unloading the last of the boxes under Drew’s supervision. After giving them a generous tip, she closed the door and looked around the house. It didn’t matter that Carrie Ann had updated the place with recessed lighting, new floors and appliances, because more and more often, Drew closed all the curtains and blinds, giving the house a dank, depressing quality.
She didn’t know how to help him. Had no clue what to do to pull him out of his funk and as each day went by, he seemed to get farther and
farther away from her. She’d promised her mother she’d take of him, but she was falling tremendously short.
Carrie Ann sighed at the stacks of boxes in the kitchen. This whole termite thing had been way more trouble than she’d bargained for. All the boxes had been labeled so now it was just a matter of unpacking and restocking the kitchen and bathrooms. She left Drew to set up his new video game, and went down the hallway. Tripping over the edge of a box in the first doorway had her anger spiking, and she bent to shove the thing out of the way. The label read Guestroom, which didn’t make sense since nothing in the guestroom had been boxed up. She hefted the box and entered the spare room. Drew must have packed this because she certainly hadn’t.
Setting the box on the bed, Carrie Ann opened it up and found three towels rolled up lengthwise. She picked up one and felt something solid within. Before she even unwrapped it, the Ruger Ranch rifle slid out and landed on the blanket. Her skin prickled. She pulled out a second towel and unwrapped the AR 15. The Colt 1911 .45 caliber slid out of the last towel. The weapons should’ve been locked in the gun cabinet. Every few months she took Drew out to the shooting range for target practice. It had been one of those things he’d done with their dad, and she’d hoped it would spark fond memories and keep his depression at bay. Their father had taught both of them to be marksmen, and hitting those red bull’s-eyes gave Drew the boost of self-esteem he needed. Most of the time. On occasion the idea backfired when all Drew could think about was finding his father dead after eating a bullet for dinner.
Carrie Ann picked up the first rifle. She checked the barrel. Dirty. What the hell? She always cleaned the weapons after every use. It was Drew who didn’t like to clean them. When had Drew used either weapon without her?
A creepy feeling prickled her neck and she spun to find Drew in the doorway, his face hard, his eyes cold.
“What are you doing?” he asked in the flat tone she rarely heard. He usually waffled between the sad, pitiful boy and the happy-go-lucky brother she’d grown up with and wanted to see more of. “I thought you were unpacking the bathroom.” He slowly moved into the room, nothing boyish about him now. His body language hummed with intention.
“I had planned to until I tripped over this in the hallway. I didn’t know you’d packed anything from one of the bedrooms.” She tapped the box. “You want to tell me why these guns aren’t clean?” Deep down, she had the terrifying suspicion she knew the answer.
Drew’s hard gaze cracked and his brows bunched together as he clenched his jaw. “Don’t be mad at me, Carrie Ann.”
Every hair stood on end. “Andrew, what did you do?” she whispered as chills streaked down her back. She only called him Andrew when he was in trouble.
Backing up, Drew hit the wall, his eyes wide. “I...I went to the shooting range.” He twisted his thumb in that way he did when he lied.
Carrie Ann recognized the tell. “No, you didn’t. I know you, Drew. Tell me the truth.”
Drew’s chin quivered and he sank to the ground. He curled his legs up close to his chest, wrapped his arms around his shins and buried his face on his knees. “I had to, don’t you see? I still have to. I can’t live like this.”
Carrie Ann barely heard him and her pulse leaped. “Had to do what?”
“Julie!” he yelled, still hiding his head.
She covered her face with both hands, her heart slamming against her ribs. No, no, please God, no. She didn’t want to believe her brother had fallen so far. She’d been in denial for too many years and now it had come back to bite her in the ass. “Drew, did you shoot Julie? Did you blow up her car?”
He was crying hard now, rocking back and forth, a little ball of pity. “I’m sorry. I’m not sorry. I’m sorry. I’m not sorry.” He kept repeating the same words over and over again.
Numb, Carrie Ann sat next to him, the hardwood floor cool under her ass. How could this have happened? How had he managed it? How the hell was she going to fix it? “Why? Drew, why?” God, a police officer was still in a coma because of him.
“She lies to me. She tells me she’ll see me then she cancels. I’m not good enough for her,” he spat. He shook his head. “I can’t live like this. I love her. I love her so much and she keeps saying she’ll be with me, and I can’t do it anymore. I want her gone. If she’s gone, I won’t see her anymore. I won’t want her anymore. She’s everywhere and I can’t... I just can’t...” Tears cascaded uncontrolled down his cheeks and broke Carrie Ann’s heart.
All this time, she’d thought she was the only one with a key to the gun cabinet. All this time, it had been Drew after Julie.
God dammit! Julie! Fresh anger exploded in Cal’s chest. Julie didn’t have to deal with Drew on a regular basis. Julie didn’t know how far he’d slid into his own private hell and she’d been the one to make him worse.
Drew needed help. Serious help. Tears pricked Carrie Ann’s eyes. No way in hell was she putting her brother in any type of mental facility. She’d had to research one for a part years ago and she’d sworn then that she’d pay for private care before placing him in one of those hellholes. Drew needed care and a gentle hand. He needed attention. He needed the love of family and friends to help him get better.
“And at the luncheon,” Drew said between sobs. “She didn’t even have us at her table. Are we not good enough for her? We can’t be seen with her because we’re less than?”
“She told me she didn’t have any control over it,” Carrie Ann murmured.
“Bullshit!” Drew roared, his brown eyes feral. “You were already there. Someone else could’ve moved to another table and I could’ve joined you. She did it! She pretends to be nice, but she’s a lying, scheming fucking Hollywood diva and she has to go!”
Carrie Ann felt the sting behind her eyes. She’d always taken care of Drew. She’d promised her mother before she died to do everything in her power to keep Drew healthy and happy. And now he was as miserable as a man could be. She’d failed. She’d failed her mother and brother just as their father had failed them when he’d taken his own life. Just as Julie had failed them today. Again. Julie had none of the pressure, none of the shitty day-to-day life issues that Cal dealt with on a regular basis.
“You know I’m right,” Drew went on quietly, his voice a bare whisper near her ear as she stared forward, eyes transfixed on the empty gun cabinet. “It’s not just me, Carrie Ann. She treats you like shit too. She dangles movies in front of you, then steals them away.”
“I got Nowhere to Hide,” Cal said quietly.
Drew scoffed “Yeah, and look what that did for you? She purposely tanked your career. She made it so you’d have to work for every role you get. You don’t think she did that on purpose? All she did was talk about how great that movie was going to be, then she backed out at the last minute and herded it your way. She knew exactly what she was doing. Setting you up to fail. You’re prettier than her, more talented than her, and it’s all a bunch of bullshit.” Panting, Drew swiped the tears from his face viciously. “She deserves whatever we give her.”
Carrie Ann ran her hands through her hair. What if Drew was right? What if Julie had orchestrated everything over the years to help her own career? “Oh, God,” she moaned, her stomach turning. All these years of sticking by her, being there whenever she needed a friend, and Julie had taken everything and stabbed her in the back. What kind of friend had Julie turned out to be?
Bile rose in Carrie Ann’s throat. She hadn’t told Julie that after her audition with Ari, she’d stayed in his office. She’d let him ride up her short skirt, peel down her thong and fuck her on his desk. She’d tolerated his ashtray breath and strangling cologne, all in the name of getting the best part of her life, because Julie had told her she would be perfect for the role. But had it worked out? Not just no, but fuck no. Julie told her she’d fight for her, but instead she took the role for herself. This was all Julie’s fault.
“We nearly did it at lunch,” Drew mumbled.
Carrie
Ann barely heard him. “What?” Then she remembered the fall. Drew had plowed into her like a defensive end and she’d slammed into Julie full force, knocking her downstairs. If Troy hadn’t broken her fall, she’d have probably been seriously injured. Or dead.
“You know I’m right,” Drew said. “She has to go. She’s hurt us enough.” He paused, his breathing rough before he continued, “You can do it, Carrie Ann. You can make it right. For you. For me. For both of us.” The tears returned to his eyes, and seeing his pain made Carrie Ann want to howl. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Please, Carrie Ann. Please make it right. Please make her disappear for good. I can’t do this anymore.”
Maybe Julie should pay for what she’d done. Maybe they would both be better off without her around. Her presence wasn’t doing either one of them a fucking bit of good. She made promises she couldn’t keep. She’d turned Drew into a hollowed-out farce of a man.
Weighing her options, Carrie Ann stared into Drew’s devastated eyes. He was her brother. Her flesh and blood. She owed him her very best. He deserved to be happy. He deserved so much more than he was currently getting.
His shoulders shook and he curled up into a ball again, shaking and rocking.
Maybe if she did this now, he’d snap out of this free fall.
Carrie Ann couldn’t stand it. “Okay, Drew. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
* * *
The sun managed to escape the clouds as it arced down toward the west. Troy had pulled off the interstate a while back to answer a phone call and Julie had quit asking him questions. She didn’t blame him for wanting to avoid a painful topic. He had been physically abused by his dad. Did she really want the details? Did she want him to relive those terrible times? She didn’t want to push him or alienate him, so she shut her mouth. Now, as he drove down a street, she checked out the scenery of small-town America.
