Mr. Sugar

by L. D. Fox

  “What… Drew, your…” Her mouth seemed to have difficulty pronouncing the words. “Why is your brother here?” Now her voice was as hoarse as if she’d been shouting at him for half an hour.

  “I invited him.” He buckled his jeans and pulled a chunky jumper over his head as Bryce emerged from the staircase.

  “Mornin’, peaches,” Bryce said, flashing Kelly a wide smile when he saw her. “Drew.” The smile winked away.

  Kelly gave him a stiff smile and turned to sidle past him. Bryce caught her wrist, spinning her back.

  “Hey—” Kelly began.

  “Angel’s making coffee. Bring us a cup, won’t you?”

  Kelly blinked at him, let out an amazed snort, and tugged her hand free. “I’m not bringing you anything, you jerk,” she hissed.

  She thudded down the stairs as Bryce slowly turned back to Drew. “Was it something I said?”

  Drew narrowed his eyes, giving his brother’s luridly red padded jacket a dismissive glance. “You’re early.”

  “Thought you’d appreciate my punctuality, not crucify me for it.” Bryce glanced at the doors on either side of the hallway. “So, which one’s mine?”

  He pointed, and Bryce gave him a two-fingered salute before disappearing into the room. He inhaled a deep breath, yanked his jumper straight, and hurried after Kelly.

  She was in the living room, tugging on a pair of gloves. When she saw Drew, her movements became furious.

  “I’m leaving, Drew.”

  “Yeah, okay. I—I got that.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to wring the last tendrils of sleep from his mind. He was the furthest thing from a morning person — it always took him two cups of coffee and at least half a cigarette to wake up. “But have some coffee before you rush off. I’m not even awake yet.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “The roads are terrible bad out there, Kelly.”

  Concern flashed briefly through her olive eyes.

  “And I’m sure you’ve still got a headache from that — whatever the hell it was — Angel made us last night. I know I do.”

  She paused, wound a scarf around her neck, and then let out a massive sigh.

  “Fine.” She pushed her bags to the side with her foot, giving him a sullen glower and flicking her hair over her shoulder with a gloved hand. “But then I’m leaving.”

  “Yes, you said that already.” And, under his breath, “Jesus.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Nothing.” He gave her a sidelong glance as he pushed open the door leading into the kitchen. A muscle in his neck twinged when he turned his head; he’d put a crick in it, no doubt while he was hammering away at Kelly’s engine.

  Angel sat on the counter, one leg up, the other kicking idly below her. She nursed a cup of coffee against her knee, glancing between them as he and Kelly stepped into the kitchen.

  “Your brother’s here,” Angel said, her voice too deadpan for him to make out how she felt about it.

  “Hard to miss.” He glanced behind him at Kelly. “Cream and sugar, right?”

  The woman didn’t move for a moment and then gave a small shrug. Her eyes flickered toward Angel but then dropped to the floor. Drew glanced at the girl, but she stared out the window at the pines that lined the lake, most still shrouded in pale mist.

  “Sleep well, at least?” Drew asked, taking three mugs from the cupboard.

  “I guess,” Kelly said, at the same time Angel replied, “You betcha.”

  Drew cast the girl an exasperated glance. “I was speaking to Kelly.”

  “Course you were,” she said, sliding from the counter. “My bad. For a moment, I thought you cared.”

  And with that ominous statement, she stalked out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. Kelly jumped and then swung back to him with wide eyes and a tight mouth.

  “Kids,” he mumbled, handing Kelly her mug.

  Kelly’s eyebrows twitched up, and she took the cup without looking at him. “Men,” she murmured, turning and leaving the kitchen before he had a chance to ask what the hell she was talking about.

  Shaking his head, he grabbed his and Bryce’s coffee and followed her out. Angel huddled on the deck, sitting cross-legged on the bare wood with a blanket around her shoulders. Kelly perched on the edge of a sofa and gave him another circumspect look when he came to sit beside her.

  “What did she do?” he asked quietly, gingerly sipping his coffee.

  “What makes you think it was her?”

  “Because I sure as shit don’t remember pissing you off.”

  Kelly sighed, glanced over her shoulder, and then leaned closer to him. Her green eyes turned down at the sides, her mouth going into a straight line. “She’s in love with you, Drew. Like full on, psycho-crazy in love with you. To the point where she’s delusional.”

  And, with that revelation, the woman watched him, her eyes flickering between his as she gaged his response.

  He let out a small laugh, took a sip of coffee, and laughed again. When Kelly didn’t return even a smile, every trace of merriment slid from his face.

  “What, you’re serious?” He took another sip of coffee. Sitting back, he stretched out his leg and wrestled his cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans.

  “She hates the fact that I’m here. That I’m even in your life. She wants you all to herself.” Kelly cast him a quick, accusatory stare. “You’ve messed her up, Drew.”

  “Me?” He set his cup down by his feet and plucked a cigarette from his box. “She was messed up before I even laid eyes on her.”

  “Well, meeting you didn’t help. Having you—” Kelly waved vaguely in his direction “—do what you did… that didn’t help either. Don’t you know how impressionable young women are? It doesn’t take more than a night with a man to make them think they’ve fallen in love. Trust me, I know.”

  He tried a grin around his unlit cigarette, but Kelly’s face slid into a glower, and he hurriedly cleared his expression.

  “I’m sorry, Kelly.”

  She shifted her shoulders, taking a slow sip of coffee without looking at him. He laid a hand on her shoulder, waiting until she turned to face him before repeating, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me.” She stabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “She’s the one you should be saying sorry to.”

  “But I’ve already—”

  The thud of Bryce’s boots on the stairs cut him off.

  “Can we talk about this later?”

  Kelly shrugged. “I have a busy week. I’ll let you know.” She stood, setting her half-empty mug on the table. “Goodbye, Drew.”

  Bryce pushed open the living room door, giving them both a wide grin. He’d shed his jacket, but he still looked entirely too at place with the pine walls framing his charcoal long-sleeved shirt and black torn-at-the-knees jeans.

  “What is it about me that sends you running?” Bryce asked Kelly as she picked up her bags. He lifted an arm, sniffing at his armpit. “I did shower.”

  “You know perfectly well,” Kelly said, throwing him a glare. “Thank you for the invitation, Drew, but I have to go.”

  “Kelly, wait.” He rose from his seat, tugging his unlit cigarette from his mouth. “Can’t we—”

  “Wanna hit me, peaches?” Bryce took two long steps, sliding in front of Kelly as she reached for the door handle. “Is that it?”

  “Hit you?” she asked in a strangled voice. Then she shook her head. “Get out of the way, please.”

  “It’ll make you feel better, won’t it?” Bryce shone his teeth at her. “Hitting me. Not a slap, mind you. A fist to the jaw.” He pointed at the small, almost faded bruise on his jaw. “See? Drew did. It made him feel better. Didn’t it, bro?” Bryce lifted his gaze from Kelly and gave him a smug smile.

  Drew took his zippo from his pocket, declining to answer as he lit his cigarette. Kelly glanced at him over her shoulder, frowned, and then turned back to Bryce. “I don’t want to hit you, Bryce. But I do need
you step out of the way so I—”

  “You sure? Last chance, beautiful.” He leaned down, jutting out his chin. “Just make sure you miss Drew’s spot. That’s still a little—”

  But she didn’t miss the bruise. She let out a strangled scream, drew her arm back, and slammed her fist right into his jaw.

  Drew’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, smoke curling from the cigarette that now dangled precipitously from his bottom lip.

  Bryce staggered, put his palm against the wall to steady himself, and slowly brought two fingers up to touch the side of his jaw.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered. “I was fucking kidding, woman.”

  “You were? Didn’t sound like it.” Kelly’s voice shook as she grabbed hold of her bags. “Now will you move?”

  Bryce inhaled a deep breath, stepped to the side, and threw his arms out in a sarcastically gracious gesture.

  “M’lady.”

  As Kelly stepped forward, Bryce cut her off again.

  “Oh no, allow me.” He plucked open the front door, yanking it as wide open as it would go.

  An arctic gust of wind piled into the room, ruffling Kelly’s ponytail and snapping the stream of smoke from the tip of Drew’s cigarette.

  “Drive carefully,” Bryce said, blinking at her with exaggerated care.

  Kelly sniffed, tightened her scarf, and bustled out of the living room so fast that her bags kept hitting the lintel.

  “Sure I can’t help you with those?” Bryce yelled.

  If Kelly replied, he couldn’t hear from where he was standing.

  “Close the door. It’s fucking freezing.”

  Bryce slammed it hard enough to rattle the ornaments on the fireplace mantle. “Jesus, why’d you bring her?”

  “I was trying to make amends.”

  “For what?”

  “For you, you fucking dick.”

  “Impossible.” Bryce grinned at him. “That chick’s planning my murder as we speak.” He worked his jaw, touching the spot where she’d punched him. “She might even pull it off, bro. If I disappear, make sure you check her freezer, got it?”

  Drew grimaced at him, took another pull at his cigarette, and stabbed toward the mug on the coffee table. “That’s yours. You drink it in here.”

  “Yes, dad.” Bryce slumped onto the sofa, grabbing the mug as he passed, and slurped loudly at it.

  Drew let himself out onto the deck. Angel glanced at him over her shoulder, and then turned to set her mug down on the bench she was sitting on.

  “That ass of yours too good for a chair?” Drew asked, coming to stand beside her.

  She had a cigarette of her own and ignored him as she puffed at it.

  “Why’d you have to do that?” he asked, flicking ash from his smoke. “Huh?”

  “Do what?” Angel asked, leaning back on the table and resting her weight on her palm. She still didn’t look at him, her blue eyes focused somewhere far over the lake.

  “Speaking to Kelly?”

  Angel flinched, turning narrowed eyes to him. “She told you?”

  “Why wouldn’t she? She’s an adult. You’ll be one too, one day.” He lifted his mug as if he was toasting her. “Here’s hoping, anyway.”

  The girl shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Drew glanced up, clenching his jaw as he tried to restrain a flare of irritation threatening to turn into super-heated anger.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Me neither.” Angel took a long drag her cigarette, blowing it out slowly. “But that’s nothing new.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you tell her about the ring?”

  Angel extinguished her cigarette on the surface of the pine bench. When she looked up, her blue eyes were as dark as Blackwater lake.

  “I’m sorry; did I beat you to it?” She cocked her head at him. “Because it sure didn’t look like you were going to do it anytime soon.”

  “Don’t make me regret this, Angel,” he said, stabbing the finger holding his cigarette in her direction. “Right now, you’re coming up fucking roses. I can change that in a second. Try me.”

  “You’re a fucking asshole.” She slid off the bench, yanked her sweater straight, and cast a last, lingering stare out over the lake. “And I hate this place.”

  “Do you now.” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight on his left leg. “Last night you were in love.”

  Her eyes darted to him, then back to the lake. “What’s the point of buying a lakehouse if you can’t swim in it?”

  “Can’t—” he turned, glancing at the water. “’Course you can swim in it. What—”

  “In that?” She stabbed at the lake, hurriedly crossed her arms over chest, squeezed. “It’s pitch black.”

  He laughed, but it did nothing for the disgust on her face. “Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

  She shrugged, her eyes were nervous when they returned to him. “Nothing. Just…” she shrugged again, cutting herself off. Then she gave him a mirthless smile. “You know what, Mr. Sugar?” Her voice dropped as she leaned closer to him. “I’m glad I fucked your brother.”

  Her eyes scoured his face. She pulled her mouth into a sullen twist and let herself back into the lakehouse while he stared at her, cigarette forgotten between his fingers. He watched as she leaned over the couch and began speaking to Bryce. His brother gave her a lewd smile, and then those dark eyes flashed to him.

  Bryce’s smile grew. He nodded, set his coffee cup down, and followed Angel upstairs.

  Drew turned his back, puffed at his cigarette, and gripped the railing until his knuckles were white. He was just about to turn and go inside — it was damn cold out here so early in the morning — when he heard footsteps behind him.

  “Drew?”

  He jerked and glanced at Kelly over his shoulder.

  “My car…” She swiped at a strand of hair that the breeze moved over her exasperated face. “It won’t start.”

  40

  Blow

  “Thanks. I had to get the fuck out of there,” Angel said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the door frame.

  Bryce beckoned her inside, but she just scowled at him. “You just going to stand in the hallway the rest of the day?”

  She sighed and stepped inside. Bryce heaved his duffel bag onto the bed and zipped it open, pausing with excessive drama that made her roll her eyes before reaching inside. He pulled out a small ziplock bag and held it up for her inspection.

  “Got my own, thanks.”

  “Oh.” The man deflated slightly. “Pills, too?”

  She snorted. “Last thing I want is being around when an ambulance comes to fetch your sorry middle-aged ass ‘cos you’ve gone and had a coronary.”

  She wriggled her fingers over her shoulders, turning to leave when Bryce caught hold of her arm.

  “Blow?”

  “1940 called, it wants its—”

  “Jesus, you wanna get high or not?”

  Angel stopped, and grabbed hold of the door frame, tapping her purple fingernails against the wood. She glanced over her shoulder, taking in Bryce with a sweeping glance that lingered for a long time on the man’s eyes. There was nothing to read in them; they were empty.

  “Why are you here? Drew hates you.”

  Bryce shrugged. “Drew’s always been a drama queen. And I’ve always been there to watch his performances.”

  “Guess you hate him just as much,” she said quietly.

  “I don’t hate him. And, despite what you might think, he doesn’t hate me either. We’re family.”

  She snorted again. “That means you can’t hate each other?”

  “It means we can’t do anything about it, even if we did.”

  “So you got me to fuck you because you love Drew so much?”

  Bryce went over to the small dressing table opposite his bed and began cutting a line of cocaine, his attention fixed solely on his task. “You have brothers? A sister?”


  “Nope.” She stuck her head out the door, glanced both ways, and closed it behind her as she came back inside. “Doubt I’d understand, even if I did.”

  “True,” Bryce said, running the edge of his credit card over his tongue before sliding it back in his wallet. “Well, suffice it to say, he had it coming.”

  She tried suppressing a shudder, failed, and crossed her arms over her chest instead.

  “Like, he deserved it?” She shook her head, watching as Bryce bent over the table and snorted up one of the four lines of coke he’d cut on the piece of mirror he’d taken from his goody bag. “What the fuck could he possibly have done—”

  “He tell you about Juliet?” Bryce paused, positioned his glass snorter against a new line, and went at it without waiting for her reply.

  “His wife?”

  “His dead wife.”

  “Penny did.”

  Bryce lifted his head, pinching his nose at her. Then he laughed, stepped away, and gestured at the table with the hand holding the snorter. “Shit. You really know Penny?”

  “Why’d I lie about that?” She glanced at the table, inhaling a long, slow breath as she stared at the two lines of blow, as Bryce had so archaically put it.

  Maybe just one… One wouldn’t hurt. Bryce didn’t strike her as a tweaker — he would probably only be willing to cut a new line every six hours or so. That wouldn’t get her into trouble—

  The thought evaporated as she stepped forward and held out her hand.

  “I’m sure you lied about plenty, baby girl. Being friends with his daughter seemed insignificant.”

  She bent over and snorted up a line, straightening in a rush that made her grab the back of the chair as her head spun. “Never lied,” she said, her voice high and nasal as she pinched her nose and tried to get everything up it with another ladylike snort.

  When she held out the snorter for Bryce, he waved it away and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s yours.”

  She looked down at the table, exhaled, and bent down.

  “Penny wouldn’t know. Not what really happened.”

  “What really happened?” She set the glass snorter down and hurriedly stepping away from the table as her head sung to her.