by L A Cotton
I looked around the tired kitchen and realized how much of a slob Mikey really was. He always had been when we were kids, but he hadn’t improved any. It wasn’t any wonder he was still single. As I waited for the coffee, I made a start on the kitchen. After being locked up with sixty other guys, being clean was a small luxury I could afford. Not to mention enduring months on end in makeshift tents in the desert where the sand dirtied up everything.
The coffee forgotten, I headed outside to collect all the empty beer bottles and toss them into the trash. Then I started on the living room. All the furniture had seen better days; it was well worn, but it had been there since at least before I was born. Lex found me in the living room sorting through the mail that had piled up.
“Dawson, dude. Give it a rest. You’re making me nervous.” He laughed at me, taking a pile of envelopes out of my hand and dropping them into the trash.
“Any coffee?” he called from the kitchen and started to open and close the cabinet doors as he searched for a mug.
“Help yourself,” I muttered and stood, looking out the windows at the row of houses lining the street. All of them had the same tired-looking, worn-out appearance. Some kept their lawns nicer than others did, and I bet they’re the people who had lived here since I was a kid. Others looked more like squats. What in the hell had happened in a space of a few years?
“Dawson,” Lex’s insistent voice called and I turned away from the window. He held out a cup of black coffee, which I accepted readily and then followed him through to the kitchen. He eyed me warily, and I’d known him long enough to know he had something to get off his chest.
“You’re cleaning.” He nodded at the spray bottle on the kitchen counter.
“Yeah, it was disgusting in here.” I shrugged.
“Nah, you’ve got something on your mind. You only tidy like this when you’re worried about something.”
“I’m always tidy.” I avoided his questioning eyes.
“Granted, but not like this. Something’s bothering you.” He’s right. Of course, he was. Lex knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. It was a knack. He would observe and work out what made you tick, able to read a person as easily as I would read a book.
“Spill. What’s bothering you the most? The funeral? ‘Cause you’ve not said much about it or seeing Joy again.”
Damn him for being so good. I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Fuck. I don’t know. Being back here … I honestly didn’t expect to be back in Chancing yet, and I certainly didn’t expect Joy to still be here.”
Lex leaned back against the counter and eyed me over the rim of his coffee mug. “So what’s the plan?” Lex liked to have a plan, always needed to have a plan. It came from the line of work we were in. He observed, planned, and then took action. Nothing was ever rushed or hasty with Lex; it was always measured and well thought out. We complemented each other in that sense.
“Funeral and then get the hell out of here. In and out. Nothing for me to stay here for.” I laid out the gist of my plan if you could even call it that.
“And Mikey? Joy?”
“You saw what she was like at the diner. She hardly welcomed me with open arms and Mikey, well …” Mikey’s words from the other day still stung.
“Mikey’s pissed at you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Didn’t I ever. Everything Mikey said was true and the guilt I felt after his tirade weighed heavily. I did abandon him, but I thought I was doing the right thing. It wouldn’t have been good for me to come straight back. I knew I had screwed up, and I didn’t want to screw his life or Joy’s up too. Never for one second did I think it might have been worse with me not being there.
“Get today over with and then we can plan our next move,” Lex muttered cryptically and shut up just as Mikey entered the kitchen.
“Hey, dickwads,” Mikey grunted as he slouched into the kitchen.
“Feeling rough?” Lex smirked at him before going in search of another mug.
“Fuck off.” He took the mug that Lex offered him and swallowed the hot coffee with a loud slurp. “Whose idea was it to drink so much beer?”
I smiled over my cup at him. “That would be yours.”
“Fuck you.” He grunted and slumped farther down in his chair. “Have you cleaned?” He inhaled deeply and turned his head to look around the kitchen, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. Lex tried to hide his laughter as I glared at both of them.
I pushed up from the table, dumped my cup in the sink, and washed it, leaving it to dry on the drainer.
“I’m going to take a shower.” I turned to find them both watching me with a look of amusement on their face.
“Car’s coming at ten,” Mikey called before I could leave.
As I stood under the hot shower spray, some of the tension in my muscles drained away. Perhaps, I should’ve felt guilty that I’d only just arrived and already I couldn’t wait to leave. The whole town reminded me of what a fuck up I’ve made of things. But I had got out. Yeah, it wasn’t the best way, but I met Lex and he helped me. The guilt I felt at leaving behind the two most important people to me had never gone. Mikey and Joy. If I’d stayed, though, would this town have dragged me under too? Would I have become numb to all the shit that was going on?
It was already suffocating me, and I hadn’t even been back twenty-four hours.
Whenever I thought about funerals, I imagined cold weather, dark rainclouds, and people dressed in black with umbrellas to shield them from the elements. For Mom’s funeral, we had bright sunshine and blistering heat, complete with blue skies and not a cloud in sight. I was sweltering in my fucking suit. The weather didn’t match my foul mood. A bad fucking mood made worse when we arrived at the church and Mikey handed me a crumpled piece of paper and said I had to do the reading because he thought he might barf at any second.
Admittedly, he did look like shit. But really that wasn’t why I was in a pisser of a bad mood. It was because Joy hadn’t turned up. As I watched people arrive, all I could think was why the fuck not? She loved my mom, had known her for years, so why hadn’t she come to pay her last respects? Then I grew annoyed at myself because while I mourned Mom, I was still thinking about her. Since coming back to this shithole, she was all I could think about.
I tried my hardest to concentrate on what the minister was saying, but the tie Aunt Marie insisted I wear was choking me. This whole place was choking me. I wanted to be anywhere else but here. No way did I want to bury Mom on a glorious summer’s day. It was too soon; she left me too soon. I still had so much I needed to tell her, to apologize for, and to make up to her, but now, I’d never have the chance. Most of all, I wanted to get the fuck out of this town and stop feeling like such a screw-up. This place brought out the worse in people, in me.
Lex nudged me in the side, interrupting my pity party. “You’re up,” he whispered out the side of his mouth, and I realized it was time.
With the crumpled piece of paper clutched in my hand, I stood at the front of the church and looked out over the sea of faceless strangers. I wasn’t able to pick out anyone I knew, which was silly because there was bound to be at least one. But I couldn’t focus.
I took my time to unfold and smooth out the reading, but really, I was stalling. Trying to gather myself so I didn’t break down in front of everyone. My voice was loud and clear as I read, and I realized after a few lines that this was my mother’s favorite poem, one I was very familiar with. It made it easier, knowing this poem meant something to her and wasn’t picked at random. As I neared the end, my voice cracked, and I paused while I fought against the sudden rush of sadness. It started to sink in … this was real; she was really gone.
The graveside ceremony was a blur; Lex maneuvered me around as though I were a zombie. It seemed like he could tell something had happened up there at the altar as I read the last few lines. Maybe he had worked out Mom’s death was starting to sink in; I wasn’t sure, but he kept me going.
“Get t
hrough the next few hours,” he repeated, almost like a chant, as we left the graveside and drove to Aunt Marie’s where the wake was being held.
My aunt had organized everything, so I should have been grateful. I was grateful. I wouldn’t have had the patience or capacity to deal with all this. The food was laid out, tea and coffee ready, and the refrigerator was stocked with the odd beer for the guys. Mikey and I had spent the afternoon thanking people for coming; some of them I remembered and who remembered me, others didn’t ring any bells.
I had given up searching for Joy. I knew she wasn’t here and there was no way she’d turn up now. But then someone stopped in front of us, his face drawn in sympathy. Someone who I hadn’t given much thought to since I returned, which was stupid of me because he’d played a large part in my history with Mikey, Joy, and this town.
Donnie DeLuca.
He looked older and harder and just as rough around the edges—maybe more so. Gone was the slightly chubby kid who always followed Mikey and me around. It wasn’t until Mikey became interested in girls and sex that Donnie and I became best buds. As he extended his hand, Mikey tensed—barely, but I noticed the tension creep into his shoulders and the way his jaw clenched. Lex did too but that was hardly surprising; he noticed everything and always paid more attention to body language than what a person said. Then Donnie turned his attention to me with a sad smile and all the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
“Dawson.” He grabbed my hand and clasped it in both of his. “It’s been too long.” He greeted me formally; as if we were strangers and not buddies from way back. But that was a long time ago, and as I kept finding out, a hell of a lot had changed since I’d been gone. I eyed him critically, taking in his heavy build. He wasn’t fat, but it wasn’t lean muscle like Mikey either. It was just bulk. Dark hair, gelled but in a slicked back way, not artfully styled the way most guys wore it. An expensive suit with shiny black shoes, and when he flicked his wrist to check the time, I saw a flash of an expensive watch. Not the practical wristwatches we wore for missions. No, this was bling—solid gold encrusted with diamonds and very flashy.
“This is Lex.” I indicated to my left. Lex extended his hand, a warm smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Lex was a master at this. Only I could tell he was undecided about Donnie, and I wondered what had his alarm bells ringing.
Donnie nodded in Mikey’s direction and Mikey returned it with a curt nod of his own. What the fuck with all the non-verbal communication?
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Donnie bowed his head in a respectful manner.
“Thanks for coming.” I struggled to get the words out.
“Your mom was one of a kind,” he carried on, and I nodded my agreement; that she was. She didn’t stand for anyone’s crap.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but I wanted to invite you to Shakers tonight.”
Lex’s ears pricked up with interest. “Shakers?”
“Yeah, it’s the club I run. You’d be well looked after,” he added, looking smug.
“Hell, yeah.” Lex clapped me on the shoulder, looking genuinely happy for the first time since we’d arrived Tuesday. I didn’t know why he was getting his hopes up. Shakers was seedy at best, if my memory served me correctly, and I doubted it had improved over time. Although judging by Donnie’s expensive watch and designer suit, it might have cleaned up its act.
“I’ll see you tonight.” He smiled and walked away.
“I don’t know.” Mikey chewed on his finger. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”
“Aw, man, come on.” Lex turned to him and gripped him by the shoulders, kneading them with his hand. “After today, we all need to let loose and blow off some steam.” He paused and a sly smile spread across his face. “I bet there are girls. With a name like Shakers, there has to be girls, right?” He nodded at Mikey, who still looked unenthusiastic.
“Am I right?” Excitement written all over his face.
“Something like that,” Mikey muttered and walked away.
“Looks like we’re going to Shakers tonight.” Lex turned back to me barely able to contain his excitement.
“Looks like it.” I stifled a groan because Shakers was the last place I wanted to be.
Troy closed the door to the Escalade and climbed in the driver’s seat. He didn’t speak. He never did. As the SUV purred to life, I leaned my head back on the leather.
Sherri said, “You holding up okay, darlin’?”
Stupid question.
I hadn’t been all right for a long time.
The buzz of the alcohol numbed everything but not enough. Only one thing could do that—the thing I hated most about myself. “Do we have to go?” My words were slurred, my hold on reality slipping.
“Shit, Joy, how much did you drink?”
“Enough,” I garbled.
“Donnie will kill me. Troy, hand me some water. Lyla, make sure she doesn’t fall asleep.”
A hand laid on my bare arm rocking me gently. “Joy, stay with us. She’s out of it, Sherri.”
“She’ll be fine …”
I could hear their voices. Words. Sounds.
“Fine. I’m fine …” Was that my voice? I couldn’t be sure as everything started to blur together.
“We need to sober her up pronto. We’re almost at the club.”
“Joy? Joy, take a sip of this, darlin’. Come on.” Something cold pressed to my lips. “Shit, Lyla, open the window.”
A blast of cool air rushed across my face, and I started to fall forward, water splashing around my face.
“Shit, fuck, grab the bottle, Ly.”
A hand steadied me as the car ground to a halt.
Are we here already?
No.
No!
Troy grumbled something. Words. But my mind was playing tricks because he didn’t talk. Not to Donnie’s girls.
“Give us a few minutes to get her cleaned up. Please,” Sherri said softly.
Another grumble and then the door opened and closed.
“Ly, get her face cleaned up.”
My face? What was wrong with my face?
Lyla huffed and shuffled beside me. “Hold still and if you puke on me, you owe me.”
“Joy, hon, keep your eyes shut but open your mouth. Sip this water for me.” Something poked at my lips. “Open, darlin’.”
I willed my mouth to take the straw and suck. Ice-cold liquid soothed my throat clearing some of the fog clouding my head. Hands brushed the hair away from my face and something damp wiped my eyes.
The cool air, cold water, and stillness began to sober me and I flickered my eyes open. “Lyla, I’m good.”
She smirked and backed away from me. “Fine, clean up your own face.”
“Lyla, go easy on her,” Sherri snapped.
“Why? Because she can’t hold her liquor? She’s not the only one who feels his wrath, you know. It’s bad for all of us.”
Guilt uncoiled in my stomach. Although it could have also been the half bottle of Johnny Walker I drank at Sherri’s.
“Enough,” Sherri said in her motherly tone. “We need to get inside before he comes looking for her.” She turned her attention to me. “You think you can walk?” I nodded. Suddenly, I felt very sober. “We’ll go straight to the girls’ changing room and get you cleaned up proper. You look like shit.” She flicked her head at Lyla. “Ly, you go and buy us some time.”
“Me? What in the hell am I supposed to do?”
Sherri rolled her eyes. “Tell your boss about Patrick or use that fine little ass of yours. Think of something, anything. Just buy us five minutes.”
Lyla shot me a glare and muttered something under her breath before opening the door and disappearing into the darkness. Troy was nowhere to be seen when we climbed out of the car. I stumbled in my skyscraper heels, but Sherri caught my arms and I managed to right myself. “I’m fine.” I shrugged her off smoothing down the dress molded to my curves.
“Your fac
e says otherwise. Come on.”
We slipped in the side entrance of Shakers unnoticed. It was rarely used and was the only unguarded door in the whole building, but Sherri had an all-access pass to Donnie’s club. She knew every darkened corner, escape route, and quiet storage closet. I knew she knew because she’d shown me every single one when Donnie first announced I was his.
His.
I was his now—body and empty black soul. He’d taken everything I had to give. Except my shattered heart. I refused to surrender that. He couldn’t have it.
Not when it belonged to another.
After cleaning up in the small bathroom adjoining the girls’ changing room, I rejoined Sherri.
“You look better,” she said glancing me up and down.
I nodded turning my head to catch my reflection. The girl staring back was a stranger. Long, tousled dark hair framed her face. Even the once bright streak of red running through the front now seemed dull. Full lips glossed in red contrasted the darkness of her eyes and the smoky kohl liner defining them. No longer did she resemble the fresh-faced girl with the sweet smile and bright eyes. No, that girl was gone.
Dead.
Sherri led us to the bar and ordered herself a drink. I declined, my stomach still churning from all the alcohol I’d drunk back at her place. Perched on one of the leather and chrome barstools, I glanced around the room. Two girls were dancing on the smaller podiums, slinking around the poles, writhing and popping their bodies as a couple of guys leered up at them.
Lyla approached us, her lips drawn into a thin line. “He wants to see you.” She glanced at Sherri and then back at me.
I clenched my eyes shut and sighed. “His office?”
“Yeah. I held him off for as long as I could.” Her eyes dropped down to the floor. The action would have had most girls on high alert. Suspicious. But I knew the lengths some of these girls would go to get things done.
Myself included.
