by Amelia Gates
I wrenched myself away from that thought, flinging my eyes open. No, no, that was no way to think about this. I couldn’t just wish death upon him. There had to be some humane way to work this out, there just had to be.
“So we figure out who really killed Hunter,” I said desperately. “We know everybody in town, there has to be something the cops missed. We can figure this out.”
“You aren’t Nancy Drew, Daisy, and I’m no Sherlock Holmes. This is a six-year-old cold case. All the evidence is locked up, they aren’t just going to hand it to me. You really think whoever did it is going to talk? They’ve spent the last six years comfortable and confident that they got away with murder. Assuming we could even get close to them, what do you think would happen? They’ve already killed once; they’d kill us to keep their freedom. Guaranteed.”
I clenched and unclenched my fists. There had to be something we were missing, some loophole in the law or in my house. Kash set his hand on my thigh and softened his expression, his voice softening to match.
“That’s why I wanted to come here,” he said. “To show you that this is survivable. Sure, your dad’s going to be pissed for a while, but he’ll get over it. Maybe the town will be shocked, maybe they won’t. I’m pretty sure my story isn’t the hot gossip it was a couple months ago.”
My heart lurched at the thought of my dad finding out and I shook my head furiously. “We can’t, Kash. We can’t do that.”
He touched my face. “Baby trust me. It’s going to be okay.”
I jerked away from his touch, terror sharpening my movements. “No, it’s not! You really don’t get it, Kash. He hates you. Take how much he hates Democrats, running out of beer, and stubbing his toe, roll those together and put them on a church pew during a sermon on charity, and that isn’t even half of how much he hates you. He’ll kill us both if he finds out about this.”
Kash scoffed. “He wouldn’t kill us. He’s a flash-bang, all noise and smoke. You’ve got to stop letting his temper freak you out, Daisy. He wouldn’t actually hurt you.”
The image of my mother rubbing her arm with a blank look in her face rose in my mind. When my dad got mad, her fibromyalgia flared up like clockwork. I had long suspected that she didn’t actually have anything of the kind, that her pain came from an external source, but I could never prove it. Honestly, I didn’t really want to put myself in a position to find out.
I shook my head. “You don’t know that.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Has he ever hurt you?”
I shrugged. “I mean—he used to whup us when we were kids and acted up. He quit that when I hit puberty, but—”
“That barely counts,” Kash said. “Your dad doesn’t know how to deal with kids. Common knowledge. But you’re not a kid anymore, Daisy. You’re a grown woman, and you deserve to be courted like one. Candlelit dinners. Sex in the sheets.”
A soft chuckle broke through my anxiety. “I would like that.”
“I know you would. I want to give that to you. I want to give you everything, Daisy. There’s a little house on Jermaine Avenue I was looking at. It’s small, but it’s cheap. I bet I could talk my PO into letting me rent it. Then you could move in with me and let your dad buy his own damn beer.”
Anxiety pressed against my heart and I shook my head. “No, no, absolutely not. He would flip his lid, Kash.”
Kash shoved a frustrated hand through his hair again. “What the hell do you want me to do, Daisy? You want romance but you won’t let me romance you. You want me to crawl through your window and fuck you in your bed like some goddamn teenager?”
I opened my mouth to respond to his tone in kind, but then I stopped. Kash in my bed—I could be quiet enough. Dad still drank himself into a stupor every night, and mom knocked herself out with Xanax nine times out of ten. Oh, yes. This could work. A wicked smile spread across my face.
“That’s a fantastic idea.”
Chapter 16
Her eyes sparkled in the dark. She was serious. I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing.
“Daisy think about what you’re saying. You want me to climb in your window and have sex in your bed twenty feet from your drunk dad who you think hates me more than he’s hated anything in his entire life. Which, I can’t say I blame him for. If he thinks, like almost everyone did, that I killed Hunter… I mean, seriously, does your door even lock?”
She nodded, bouncing a little bit on the well-worn bench seat. “It does! I installed a lock when he stopped busting in to check on me every night. He hasn’t done that in months. He still thinks I go to bed at eight and stay there all night. He passes out, then Mom passes out, and the whole house is quiet. As long as we’re quiet too, why shouldn’t we use my room?”
I shook my head. “You make no sense, you know that?”
A flash of hurt dulled the excitement in her eyes. Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Really? It’s too risky to step out of the car right now and kiss me on that bridge over there, but you want me to climb in your window and spend the night in your bed? How does that make sense?”
“Because,” she said with a patience people usually reserved for small children. “Out here is public. Anybody could see us and tell dad. My room is private. It’s an environment I can control. We can turn the music up, drape some blankets over the door and connecting walls to dampen the sound—besides, Kash, winter’s coming. Do you really want to be naked in this truck in the middle of a freezing rainstorm or hail? We barely survived the hurricane.”
She looked so eager and sure of herself I couldn’t bring myself to tell her no. I still thought it was a shitty idea, though.
“Okay. I’ll think about it, but I want you to think about something, too.”
“Okay.” She straightened her shoulders, eyes at attention, but her fingers were twisting with excitement.
“I want you to consider why you would rather sneak around like a bad kid than stand up to your dad.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s easy. Because he’s scary and still controls the vast majority of my life.”
“Does he? Why?”
She glared at me and I raised my hands. “All right, all right. I’ll back off. Just thought it might be something you’d want to look at.”
She shook her head. “Thinking hasn’t gotten me very far, Kash. I’m working on instinct right now, and my gut says that this is the safest way to get what we want right now. Maybe later—” she drifted for a moment, her expression darkening in a way I couldn’t really interpret, then shook her head. “—We’ll figure it out. Later.”
I held her hand and rolled her fingers under my thumb. “I still think it’s a bad idea, Daisy. We should look at my place, figure out a way to get you up to my room without—”
“Without Leroy spreading it all over town? Not a chance. You said so yourself.”
As if her dad blowing my brains all over her bedroom wall was a better idea.
I huffed a defeated sigh. I really didn’t want to be caught climbing through her bedroom window, especially with Breaker breathing down my neck. I’d barely managed to satisfy him so far, and I knew it would only take one slip-up for him to gleefully ship me back to prison. Trespassing was a misdemeanor. Even if she vouched for me and told everybody that she invited me—which I wasn’t sure she would do, if her dad was listening—they could still make a case for trespassing since she didn’t own the place.
I turned her hand over in mine and kissed the back of it. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “I just want to be close to you, Kash. I want to hold you; I want to be held. I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up to your kisses.”
Alarm bells started going off in my head. “Woah, woah, hold on there Daisy. I’m down to sneak in for a round or two and let you fall asleep on me, but I can’t stay all night. That’s just asking for trouble. I mean, so’s the rest of it, but that’s just plain reckless.”
She pursed
her lips, then sighed. “Yeah, I know. I just—ten years is a really long time, Kash. And I’ve already waited six. I just—sometimes I feel like this is never going to happen. I want to make it happen, at least a little bit even if we can’t get the full thing for right now.”
God, she was frustrating sometimes. I kissed her hands again and looked into her eyes. “I want that too, Daisy. I do. Which is why I think it’s so important for you to stand up to your dad, get everything out in the open so you aren’t so damn scared all the time.”
A shudder ran through her body and she bit her lip. She squeezed my hands and gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll get there,” she promised. “Just… give me some time, okay?”
Fortunately for her, I had all the time in the world. Ten years at least. So we left it at that, agreeing to start on Monday as we were well into the weekend and Sunday was her dad’s one sober day. We hammered out the details while we drove aimlessly around town, talking about all the places we’d like to go together someday.
Someday seemed very far away when I kissed her goodbye and dropped her off in the woods near her house.
Chapter 17
On Monday, everything started falling apart in slow motion. Since I’d had so much trouble finding a job, Breaker had set me up with the highway maintenance crew—or the Roadkill Crew, as they affectionately called themselves—which was supposed to be year-round, full-time, minimum-wage work. It was crap, but it would fulfill my obligations for the moment.
But when I showed up to work early Monday morning, the foreman gathered the dozen or so of us together.
“Hate to break it to y’all,” he said. “But the city’s making budget cuts. They’re under the impression that we can keep the highways and byways clear with a four-man crew. Johnson, Steward, and Franks—y’all have been here longest, so you’ll stay on. The rest of you—I’m sorry to tell you that this’ll be your last week. I’ll give you time off with full pay for any interviews you can get this week.”
I clenched my jaw and the foreman sighed.
“I know some of you are here on work release. I hate to screw that up for you. I’ll write letters of recommendation for all of you—you’re all good workers, and I hate to have to do this to you. Whatever you need, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll do everything I can to lessen this blow.” He went on and on. All short sentences, saying the same thing in small amounts of words. But at least he was trying. I knew there were many out there who’d cut their workers off without batting an eye or wasting another dollar.
I wanted to be grateful to him for being different, but I knew it wouldn’t matter one way or another. Barely anybody in town was hiring and those who were hiring, certainly weren’t hiring convicts. I’d been through this circus already. At least I still had a place to live, though, and some savings since Leroy still wasn’t charging me rent.
Of course working for the Roadkill Crew meant that any work I did for Leroy had to be done late in the afternoon or evening. I got back to the motel at four in the afternoon and was showered and changed by five. Usually Leroy would have a list of basic handyman things that he needed done waiting for me when I came downstairs—but today, Leroy was waiting for me with wild, angry eyes and restless, scratching fingers.
“Kash! Getchur ass in my office!” Leroy spun on his heel a little too fast and tottered, cussed about it, and started scratching his arm like his bone itched.
I took a couple deep breaths on my way over to him. It’s one thing to deal with him any ol’ day. It’s another thing to have to put up with his antics when I, myself, wasn’t in the best of moods.
“What’s up, boss?” I asked with casual caution.
Leroy whirled on me, his eyes wide and unfocused. He scratched his scalp, sending flakes of dandruff snowing down over his shoulders. “Didn’t I tell you to fix the cabinets in the breakfast room? Breakfast room cabinets, that’s what I said. I was just in there, and the fucking handle came off in my hand. You call that fixed, boy? Do ya?”
“I told you I only got half of them done. I was about to finish the rest of them. You still got the handle?”
“What do I look like, a handle collector?” The way he was scratching himself was starting to make me itch.
“All right, that’s fine. I found extras in the basement, it’s all good. I’ll get those finished now.”
Leroy grabbed me by my collar and yanked me toward him, our noses nearly touching. I raised my eyebrows, tampering the anger that was boiling in me. “You don’t want to do this, Leroy.”
“Don’t tell me what I want! I’ll tell you what I want, you ungrateful ass. I want you to earn your keep! You know why I let you stay here rent free, don’t you?”
I pulled his hands off my collar and took a step back. “So you don’t have to pay a contractor to maintain this place, I figure.”
His mouth twisted in disgust. “No! I don’t give a crap about this place!”
“Hell, Leroy, now I know you aren’t feeling like yourself. This place is the only thing you do give a crap about.”
He passed a hand over his eyes, trembling. His whole demeanor changed in an instant, and suddenly he was begging me. “Look, Kash, I just need a little help, that’s all. My guy…he ain’t come through in a while, and I’m hurting. I know you know how to cook. Just whip up a little something to take the edge off, would you?”
I shook my head. “Sorry man, not a chance. My PO’s got eyes everywhere, and I’m not about to risk everything on a batch of anti-itch, if you get my meaning.”
His fists clenched and his eyes bugged. “But that’s why you’re here! I let you stay here ‘cause we got history! You’re supposed to be loyal, what ever happened to that, huh?”
“Prison,” I said shortly. “Sorry, Leroy. You’re just gonna have to suffer.”
Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. Leroy’s twitchy fingers instantly curled into a fist and he launched a blow at my face. I caught his wrist, twisting his arm behind him, but he was slippery. He pulled from my grasp, tossing a kick at my knee. He missed, hitting me in the thigh instead, which almost, but not quite, threw me off-balance. Jutting out a hand, I caught his foot, and with way more ease than should have been possible, I flipped him up so he landed on his chest. He struggled to catch his breath, making it clear as day that I’d knocked the wind out of him.
“Now,” I said, breathlessly. “Was that worth it?”
Leroy’s face twisted. He gasped and he groaned and eventually got some air into his lungs. His fingers still shaky, he swept them under his nose. “What the fuck, man? Seriously, what the hell?”
I rolled my eyes and yanked him to his feet, then dragged him to his chair. He was rubbing his chest, now and his eyes were full of unshed tears. Pathetic, I thought. But the word weighed heavy on my conscience. He probably wouldn’t be in the shape he was if it hadn’t been for me and Hunter enabling him all those years ago. As I looked at him, even more guilt twisted in my stomach. How many people? How many lives? How many deaths had we caused dispensing drugs to people like Leroy?
My mind swerved to Hunter and the fact that he was at the top of the list. Had we lead a different life, he’d still be standing here today. I shook my head, tried not to allow the guilt to consume me, not that I didn’t deserve it. I’d done my time for a crime I didn’t commit and most of my headspace had been there. Sure, I thought about the drugs, the effect they had, the things they indirectly took away, but as I looked at Leroy, I realized that I haven’t really been punished for the effects of my past.
Leroy’s head hung limp, cradled in his hands. His breath was shallow, and the shakes had taken him over once more. I shook my head for the millionth time.
“Sit there,” I said.
There were energy drinks in the break room. Leroy generally avoided them on his doctor’s orders, only keeping them around for me and the rest of the crew. If we didn’t have energy, we couldn’t work. He wanted to make sure that even when we were exhausted,
energy was only a refrigerator door away.
I set my sights on the fridge. Energy drinks sure as rain wouldn’t solve the masses of Leroy’s problems, but they would at least take some of the edge off.
I grabbed three and hurried back to the office, planting them with a thud on the table. His pack of cigarettes had fallen to the floor during our scuffle and I scooped them up. I popped the top of a can and shoved it into his hand, then lit a cigarette for him and twisted it between his flaccid lips.
“Drink. Smoke. You’ll feel better.”
Leroy nodded. The whole altercation had taken up too much time. I would barely have time to finish the cabinets if I was going to make it to Daisy’s place on time. Shit!
My mood soured as I rushed through the work I still needed to get done. I must have paused every twenty minutes to check on Leroy. Lucky for me, and for him, he was slowly stabilizing. By the time I was through and ready to go, he had fallen asleep in his chair, a cigarette still burning between his fingers. I put it out for him and covered him with a spare blanket, hoping a good night’s sleep would get him over the worst of his withdrawals. And then I breathed.
Not in relief, but not in frustration either.
Everything just kept going wrong after that. The day started out shit, and by the gods, I knew it was going to end that way, too. I lost a screwdriver, ran out of sandpaper, and spilled varnish. The extra handles I’d found on Friday had grown legs and walked away somewhere, and I’d had to steal a handle from the cabinet in my own bathroom to fix the kitchen cabinet. But I’d figured it was better to deal with the minor inconvenience than give Leroy something else to complain about.
