Fake (A Pretty Pill, #2)

by Criss Copp

  She gives him the one fingered salute and moves off. But not before turning around and mouthing off some more.

  “I’ll see you Silas; thanks for the sex.” She raises her voice and then enthusiastically shouts, “You’re fantastic.”

  “No problem,” I shout after her as she retreats, “you were pretty fucking awesome yourself.” I shout back.

  She turns smiles and continues to walk away.

  “You’re an asshole.” I turn to Ethan.

  “You’re a little boy.”

  “That’s your comeback? That’s all you have?” I mock.

  “I have more in my report; you’re in trouble, little boy.” he growls.

  “You know what? I may be younger than you, but I’ve got it where it counts. I’m all man as far as Isi’s concerned.” I gloat, even though Isi wouldn’t actually really know.

  “Yeah, I’ve read the reports. I’ve read about your manhood, all over the place.” he chuckles.

  I cock my head to the side. I must be getting better; in fact I am better because I’ve refrained from tearing this assholes motherfucking head off. I’m thinking of walking away when he adds.

  “I wonder if Isobelle knows about your extreme sexual needs.”

  I move into him ultra tight and close.

  “Do you even know what I did for work; what I do for work?”

  “You threaten me or assault me in any way and this will become a police matter. You’ll be locked up for longer – a whole lot longer.” he explains. But I can tell he’s kind of peeing in his pants.

  “But you’ll be eating through a straw regardless. It would be worth the jail time. I’d have all the time in the world there to reminisce about the sound of my fist smashing against your face. And by the way that is a threat.” I growl.

  He stares at me like this is all a big game. And then he smirks at me and begins to chuckle. I’ve had enough, so I step back a little so I can swing and I slug him across the jaw. He now lays sprawled across the floor, and clearly I wiped the smirk off his face. He looks shocked, but I didn’t hit him nearly as hard as I could. In fact it was soft, despite the impact landing him on his ass.

  “I’m being sent to the units; I hope I don’t see you on the street now that I’m living around here. I may just have a psychotic moment if I do.” I offer, before moving to go to my room and pack my things.

  I stop a short distance away, “feel free to call the cops. I don’t mind telling them you’re a motherfucking asshole.” I growl, before turning away and continuing on to my room.

  He never does.

  ***

  The residential units are stunning. This is my home for the next two months. They’re nothing like the transitional facility I just left; they have everything that could be expected in a normal house, only it would be a high-end, upper class house. My unit, which is in fact more like a townhouse, has four bedrooms. I’ll be sharing with three other people. The units are for both mental health and detox patients. Once we both finish the intermediate programs in the other facilities, we merge into the units; where we are further integrated into society while continuing with therapy, routine and rules.

  I’m introduced to three other guys. I may be a week early here, but they only moved in today as well. Monday’s are moving days. They got here hours ago, and when they did they were told at the time that they would only have the three of them, but then of course I got an early pass, courtesy of my non-sexual relationship with a staff member.

  They’re all detox patients. They also know each other, having been in group sessions for the past four weeks. They’re on a stricter leash than I am too; which is interesting. They all have to submit to weekly blood tests and bi-weekly random urine tests to be allowed to continue with the program. We all have to clock in nightly at 7pm, unless we’ve been given permission to extend our leave; for things such as a family dinner. It’s the last week of September and I have eight weeks here, before moving to God knows where; I’ll be out the week before Thanksgiving, which apparently is going to be a big event in the Reynolds household this year. Not bad I suppose for a couple of Australians to be celebrating an American institution. Although Ben is half American; and he grew up with all that stuff since his mom was passionate about it all.

  After that, I’ll be trying to get my act together for a new year of fighting. Although this year has been far from perfect, the timing is pretty good; it’s very reminiscent of last year, trying to get myself prepared for this year.

  “Hey man, the three of us are going to take the shuttle bus into town. Do you want to come?” A guy named Hank asks me through my door as I unpack my clothes.

  I look up at the clock and note that its 12:30pm. The shuttle leaves at 1pm. It dawns on me that I can come and go until 7pm tonight. I also realize I had been waiting to leave until after lunch, which of course is my responsibility now. We also have to cook our own dinner.

  “Shit,” I verbalize, sitting on the bed.

  “I know, it seems funny to be allowed to walk out the door. Four weeks is a long time to be locked up.” Hank states, smiling exuberantly at me.

  “I’ve been in lock up for 15 weeks. I was supposed to be there for another week, but I got an early release.” I explain.

  “Holy shit man.” Hank enthuses. He’s your typical Californian surfy guy, stereotypical that is, right down to the blond hair. He’s the most forward of the three and super friendly; already telling me he was in for cannabis abuse and alcohol. Like I said, stereotypical. He comes further into my room, slightly tapping on the doorframe with his fist.

  “You definitely should come out. You need to get out.” he reasons. “You can hang with me if you like. The other guys are chemmy users, so they’re gonna want to scope things out you know. I can’t go back to being a stoner; it will destroy my mom if I do. I need to be away from that shit.” he mumbles.

  I’m guessing he needs a non drug using friend. I’m going to be living with him for two months, it certainly won’t hurt to get to know him; maybe we could become friends. He’s already reminding me of Beau.

  “Sure, I’ll come out, but don’t you want to know why I was locked up for so long?”

  “Do you use?”

  “No.”

  “Are you gonna kill me?”

  “Ah, no.”

  “Do you have a label?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, tell me your label and let’s get the hell out of here.” he smiles.

  “Bipolar.”

  “Sucks, my step-sister is bipolar.” he suddenly sighs.

  “Should I stay here?” I ask, noting the change in his mood.

  “No, you should definitely come along. Just promise me you’ll stay on your meds while you’re around me.” he requests.

  “Um, I was planning on it.”

  “Cool.” he says.

  I clear my throat, “I’ve got to buy a mobile phone.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m from Pismo beach, but I know SLO pretty well.” he reasons, nodding.

  “SLO?”

  “San Luis Obispo city or SLO. It’s easier than saying the full name.”

  “I’ve been calling it San Luis for short.”

  “Nah man; San Luis is a city in Arizona.” he chuckles.

  “Wow, everyone must think I’m an idiot. Jade calls it San Luis too.”

  “She your girl?” he asks.

  “No, she’s my sister. I don’t really have a girl.” I explain.

  “Well, you’re not from around here so I guess you just look like a tourist when you say it wrong. You’re Australian right?”

  “Yeah, what gave it away?” I chuckle.

  “Your accent. You sound a bit like that wolverine guy.” he points out.

  “Hugh Jackman?”

  “Yeah, a younger version of him.”

  “Thanks.” I say chuffed.

  “No worries, um, I’ll meet you downstairs then in five.”

  “Yep, sounds good.”

  Chapter 7: R
esidential Wanderings

  Isi.

  Wow, I haven’t been home this early for ages. Mom will be at the Country Club playing tennis with her ‘friends’. Dad will be at his work. It’s so good to see no-one.

  I’m finally sitting back in my room, having walked the perimeter of the house for the first time in years, when I hear my phone beep.

  I’ve missed three calls from an unknown number.

  And I have one text.

  Unknown:

  Isi, answer your phone or text me that you’re OK. It’s Silas.

  Today, 14:38

  I place the number in my contacts under Silas and reply.

  Me:

  I’m OK. I was walking around my house since it was quiet, which is nice.

  Today, 14:42

  Silas:

  Oh, good… I was worried.

  Today, 14:43

  Me:

  Nothing to worry about. I’m all good. What about you?

  Today, 14:45

  Silas:

  Out and about; bought this phone. Hanging with a guy named Hank. We’re eating at a diner.

  Today, 14:47

  Me:

  Excellent. What are your plans for tomorrow?

  Today, 14:50

  Silas:

  They include you.

  Today, 14:51

  Me:

  Me?

  Today, 14:51

  Silas:

  Yes, you. I’m manned with a bus timetable, phone and lots of time. Reserved 8am morning session for therapy, then heading to gym for a work out and then I’m keeping afternoons free for hanging with you.

  Today, 14:54

  Me:

  What about your family?

  Today, 14:56

  Silas:

  You’ll love them.

  Today, 14:57

  Me:

  You want them to meet me?

  Today, 14:58

  Silas:

  That’s a seriously dumb question. I’m not even going to answer that.

  Today, 15:00

  Me:

  Why?

  Today, 15:01

  Silas:

  This is stupid; just answer your phone.

  Today, 15:02

  I’m chuckling when the phone rings and of course it’s Silas.

  “What do you mean why?” he asks.

  “Why do you want me to meet them?”

  “You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t you get to know them?” he reasons.

  “You not only want me to meet them but you want me to get to know them as well?” I ask, rolling on my bed, so that I’m now facing the ceiling.

  “Do I have to spoon feed you how all this works?” He asks.

  “Yes. Feed it to me Silas.”

  “Oh Jesus, now that just sounded suggestive and rude.” he chuckles down the phone.

  “You’ve been without sex too long.”

  “I bet you have too.” he counters.

  “Touché.”

  “Well, usually friends take each other home to meet their parents and get permission to play together.” he says.

  I’m not missing the huge innuendo that he’s throwing in there. It’s just a bit of fun, but it makes me feel all tingly.

  “Okay, but I’m not desperate for my parents to find out about you.” I explain.

  “I’m not keen to meet your fire-breathing dragon mom either, but they still need to know so they can manage your play dates better.” he chuckles.

  “I don’t want my mom anywhere near my play date schedule. She’ll have me primped and plucked and plastered with fake tan and make up; and then she’ll have me sit and coo over dumbass photos of designer babies with names that sound more like clothing labels and Disney characters. I’ll be forced to find my service revolver and shoot myself in the head if I have to do that.” I argue.

  “You have a service revolver?”

  “No, I’m just being silly.”

  “Can you shoot a gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn. That’s kind of hot. Do you know how to use handcuffs?” he asks.

  “Silas, focus.”

  “I’m very focused, and you’re the one that pointed out I haven’t had sex in ages.” he reasons.

  “We had sex this morning, remember?”

  “I think I’d remember that. I didn’t even get to take my pants off.” he laments.

  “Well according to Ethan, you were well and truly on the pathway to heaven.”

  “Heaven?”

  “Well, you know what I mean, fabulous sex.”

  “You refer to sex with you as heaven?” he asks.

  I burst out laughing. He actually sounds a bit interested. He really must be deprived.

  “Close.” I answer.

  “Don’t say stuff like that. You have no idea what that does to me.”

  “Oh come on Silas. You’ll have every woman within a ten mile radius attempting to get into your pants now that you’re out.” I explain.

  “You live at the beach don’t you?”

  “Yes. Avila Beach.”

  I hear him in a muffled conversation with someone beside him.

  ‘How far is Avila Beach from here?’

  ‘Ten miles.’

  “Okay, I can deal with that.” he says back into the phone.

  “Not me you twit.”

  “Not you what?”

  “I won’t be attempting to get into your pants.” I explain.

  “You say that now, but who knows, you might find me irresistible in the end. You live within the bounds of your prediction.” he reasons.

  “I’m too old for you.” I laugh.

  “That’s only if we go by chronological age. Mentally you’re around the same age as me.” He reasons.

  “Oh my God, you’re not only a mega flirt; you’re hell bent on insulting my intelligence too.”

  “No, I wasn’t insulting your intelligence; I was insulting your emotional aptitude.”

  “Wow that makes me feel so much better.” I grumble.

  “Stop whining and put a reminder in your calendar to meet me tomorrow in SLO for lunch.”

  “Okay.” I acquiesce.

  “Don’t say it like it’s a chore. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be the one with the pathway of destruction in my wake.”

  “I told them they were making a mistake letting you out.”

  “And would they listen?”

  “No.” I chuckle.

  “Goes to show that sleeping with the staff brings results.” he points out.

  “You slept with Dr. Jensen too?”

  “No, I slept with Ethan; but don’t tell God; he might send him to another planet.” he says in mock seriousness.

  “Oh God, he really did tell you some of his bullshit.” I moan.

  “Yes; it had me seriously concerned about who they deemed a mentally fit person; but hey, they’ve let me out and I only intend on killing three people today.” he says.

  “Well that’s just great.” I say with mock enthusiasm.

  “Yeah, but I think Hank’s worried. I think he thinks I might be serious.” he says.

  A male voice from behind yells out, ‘no way, but if he’s not for you, my phone number is,’ and then I hear a muffled shuffling, and then laughing.

  “Silas, I’ll leave you to your bonding.”

  “Okay, but tomorrow lunch. I’ll text a location when I discover one.”

  “Okay.”

  I hear the male voice from behind again, ‘I love you.’

  Boys.

  ***

  “You don’t need any more board shorts Silas.” I explain. He’s already bought five pairs.

  “I always need board shorts. They’re my uniform. I wear them when I train.”

  “Me too.” Says Hank, who is currently hanging out with us, but he’s okay. He’s typical of a lot of the guys I grew up with around here. The year my class graduated, it was populated with more surfers and skateboarders than jocks or any other athlete. And
those skateboarders were highly skilled and very athletic. They looked so good without their shirts on, skating around and, ahhh, but I digress.

  “What do you do for work Hank?”

  “I make surfboards in Pismo Beach.”

  “Figures, you look like the sort of laid back guy to have that as a passion.” I smile.

  “What can I say, I’m a passionate guy.” He offers, winking.

  “Stop hitting on my friend.” Silas warns.

  “Dude, she’s gorgeous and she’s in front of me. It’s gonna happen. I don’t mean anything by it, unless you want it to.” He winks at me again.

  “Seriously, I’ll punch you in the face.” Silas explains, somewhere between a joke and slightly serious. He reaches out and grabs my hand and we continue up the street.

  “So much violence and wanton destruction.” I sigh, shaking my head in mock disapproval.

  Silas looks down at me and smirks.

  “Oh, there’s a sale on end of season stock over there.” Hank points out to another shop.

  “Let’s have a look.” Silas enthuses.

  “Do we have to?” I whine.

  “You’re a girl. You’re supposed to love shopping.” Hank says.

  “Great observation skills there buddy.” I say sarcastically. “But shopping and me don’t really like each other. Not unless it takes me five minutes to come and go.”

  Hank erupts in laughter, and I just look at Silas in confusion. He rolls his eyes.

  “Seriously?” I say in exasperation.

  “He’s horny.” Silas reasons.

  “He’s twelve. That doesn’t even make sense.” I counter.

  “I’m twenty and horny; and I haven’t had weed, alcohol or a woman for more than a month.” he argues.

  “Go out and meet someone then.” I reason.

  “I would, but there’s this thing called a restrictive curfew.” Hank states. “I don’t want to mess with the program. Mom’s paid big money to get me to go clean.” He explains.

  “Point taken, but what about hooking up during the day? People can have sex during the day.” I reply.