by Nolon King
She recognized that it was her ego talking. But surely there was nothing wrong in enjoying mentoring him?
“Are you at all scared that there’s a killer in Almond Park?” he asked.
She imagined that the killer knew that Selena Nash lived in their tiny town. She was a celebrity here. He had to realize she’d be consulted by the police. No doubt he was taking extra precautions to make sure he stayed ahead of her.
Maybe that was why this all felt so personal.
“A little,” Selena admitted. “But no, I’m not usually afraid of the killers.”
“Have you ever met one before … I mean in real life?”
“Of course,” Selena said. “All kinds.”
“Do you think you would know it if you saw one?”
“I do.”
She was about to deliver her latest theory, one that was only now brewing in the nooks of her mind — probably nothing, but definitely fun to discuss with the right person — when Adam entered the kitchen.
He eyed them from the other side of the room as though they were blocking his path to the fridge. He opened it, then closed it a moment later. Nodded at Selena as if to say, don’t let me interrupt. But she didn’t buy it. He always meant to interrupt.
Dane said nothing, but the boy didn’t look uncomfortable, like most teenagers would. He really was growing up. He looked … poised. Like he knew what was coming and was ready.
Selena let the silence continue, seeing if her husband would give up his charade of nonchalance or if he’d keep it going until she called his bluff.
Adam pulled a bottle from the wine rack and a glass from the cabinet, then brought them both to where Selena and Dane were clustered, giving them each a thin-lipped smile.
He grabbed the bottle by its throat and poured himself a splash and a half. Just enough to down in a swallow.
Then he set his empty wine glass on the counter and said, “So, what are you two talking about?”
Chapter Eleven
Adam watched Selena leave the kitchen without a word, taking both the bottle and glass with her.
He turned away from Dane, selected a second bottle of pinot from the rack, and showed it to him.
“You want a glass?”
“No, thank you. I’m not old enough to drink.”
Adam looked at him sideways. “You’re telling me you’ve never had a drink? Come on, you’re eighteen now, right?”
“The law says you can’t drink until you’re twenty-one in California. I think it’s the law in all fifty states.”
Adam filled his wine glass, all the way this time. “You don’t seem like someone who is especially beholden to the law. None of you boys do, including mine. Well, except for Pussabo. I could see him as sort of a narc.”
Adam laughed, keeping things friendly.
Dane laughed, too. But it was obvious the kid didn’t mean it. When you wrote jokes for a living, it was easy to see when someone was being polite, or whatever that was.
Maybe there wasn’t anything happening with Selena. Maybe Adam was being paranoid. It was more than likely. Still, something about Dane had been bothering him for a while now. And it was frustrating that he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it yet.
“Your friends are all upstairs. Is HardCorps getting old? Or is there something down here that you can’t get up there?”
Dane looked Adam dead in the eye and spoke with barely any expression. “Sure, I could stay upstairs and listen to Elliot shit all over Pussabo, or I could come down here and listen to what Selena was saying to the detective. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a choice.”
Adam could actually understand that. Still …
“Was it weird?”
Dane raised an eyebrow. “Weird?”
“Yeah,” Adam said. “Weird … having to sit there and wait for your turn.”
“I wasn’t waiting for my turn, Adam. I was just curious. About the killer.”
“It’s Mr. Nash. And did you hear what you were hoping to, Dane?”
He took a moment to think, then licked his lips, looking like he wanted water but wasn’t about to ask. “I’m not sure, exactly. Someone’s killing families in Almond Park, and Mrs. Nash is really smart about this stuff, and I’ve been thinking about maybe taking some criminal psych classes in college. And besides …”
Adam gave him a moment to finish, but he clearly wasn’t going to.
“Besides what?”
The boy looked down at the floor before he continued.
“Ever since my mom died, my dad …” His voice cracked. “We’ll never be a family. Not like you guys. Hanging out here is the closest I’m ever going to get.”
Adam felt slapped. Surprisingly touched. Of all the things he’d expected from Dane, honesty wasn’t one of them. He didn’t want it.
“I don’t remember my mom,” Dane went on. “I look at the pictures of her when I was little and it’s like looking at someone else’s family. But I’d like to think she’d be a lot like Mrs. Nash.”
There it was, like a knife twisting in his guts. Now he couldn’t feel like anything but a prick for thinking something illicit was taking place between this kid and his wife. Like he’d projected his jealousy of Selena’s success and his resentment that she seemed to be losing interest in him onto a teenage boy who missed his mom.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
They shared a stare.
Adam took a long sip of his wine, buying time to study the kid sitting on the other side of his kitchen counter.
Was he a broken boy in need of a mother? Or a manipulative fuckstick who needed a fist in his face?
Maybe Dane was both.
Either way, this was his chance to have a conversation with the kid, without Selena or the boys around. A chance to be better, and try harder. Get out of his idiot head and all the shadows inside it. Talk to the kid. Maybe even—
“YO!” Levi boomed from two rooms over, just after the usual THUMP! from his jumping the final few stairs.
Seconds later, without enough time for Adam to finish his thought, Levi appeared in the kitchen, with Elliot and Pussabo trailing behind him.
“Hey Dad!” Levi said, surprised to see him. “Is Dane teaching you to be a dork? Hey Dane, did you tell him all about the boring crap that no one has ever asked or cared about, but that you always want to go on and on about anyway?” Levi looked at his father. “Did he, Dad?”
Adam smiled and tried to make nice. “I think I was the one who might have been giving Dane a hard time.”
Dane seemed surprised. He smiled at Adam, warmly enough that he felt even worse for suspecting the kid. Not only was he missing a mother, Dane might’ve been wishing for a father he could respect, too. Had Adam’s inability to get past his instinctive annoyance with Dane kept him from recognizing a chance to be a positive influence on a boy who just wanted someone to look up to?
Levi eyed the exchange and looked like he might have a question. But then he said, “So, Dane, are you coming out to get trounced by me and Pussabo?”
“That isn’t going to happen. Pussabo’s been practicing.”
“I have,” Pussabo confirmed.
“Practicing what?” Elliot asked.
Adam looked at Levi. “Where’s your brother?”
Levi shrugged. “Probably off somewhere getting rejected by Kari.”
“Be nice,” Adam said.
“He hasn’t been nice to me in a month.” Levi glared at Adam like that was his fault. “But sure. You’re right. I don’t have to point out that he has no game and never will, and can’t even get with a girl that he spends every second with. Especially when he isn’t here to awkwardly defend himself.”
Adam blinked. When had the rift between his boys gotten so big? Selena might’ve been right about there being a deeper problem than the usual sibling rivalry. And that made him feel even more like the asshole. Not only was he maybe letting Dane down, he was blowing his own shot at fatherhood. H
e’d lost his connection with Corban, and now he feared he might be losing it with Levi, too. The twin who was just like him. Idolized his father, despite the fact that he was a failed comic whose career was practically a hobby compared to their mother’s.
Goddammit.
“Alright. Let’s play.” Dane stood from his barstool, scooted it in, then turned back to Adam. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Mr. Nash. I really appreciate it.”
Adam looked at Dane. He seemed so sincere.
The words just fell out of Adam’s mouth.
“My pleasure, Dane. Anytime.”
The boys moved in a herd toward the door. Almost out of earshot, but close enough that Adam could still color the blanks, Elliot sang, “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Mr. Nash. I really appreciate it.”
The front door closed, and Adam was alone.
Finally.
For a moment, he wondered if this was how Selena felt when she shut herself in her office. Relieved to set aside her family's demands. The idea that she might feel about Adam like Adam felt about Dane made him want to puke.
He’d spent the past few days stewing in jealousy, resentment and frustration at every level. The more frustrated he felt, the stronger his obsession became.
He’d never been able to stop the unrelenting stream of violent images, but Adam thought he’d learned to keep them in the back of his head until he was ready to dive in. Whenever he thought about the woman with the blood-red lipstick around his children, he felt a shame so intense that it sucked all the pleasure right out of his thoughts.
But now Adam was alone with her in his head, and already hardening.
He walked upstairs, wondering what she was doing right now, and hating himself.
This was the kind of hate he was used to. The kind that had always been there, ever since these ugly thoughts started building their nest in his head.
The obsession was destroying his family. Maybe it had been all along, and he never noticed before. The boys were older. Maybe they were picking things up on a subconscious level. Or they always had. Perhaps now it was louder, and Adam’s thoughts were radioactive.
But how could he stop them when nothing had ever worked before?
Control was not the same as cessation. The images started as snowfall, but they were always an avalanche at the end.
Adam wished that he’d thought to bring the bottle upstairs. A few swallows might dull these throbbing thoughts. The house was finally quiet, but his mind refused to stop screaming.
The woman in lipstick. Limbs akimbo and blood like pomegranate syrup drizzled all over her naked body.
He didn’t want to want it.
But there was so much blood, and Adam couldn’t deny his arousal. Or his self-loathing.
He wanted to be normal, but he never would be. He was trapped in the cage of his perverted, murderous thoughts. Life was pulling him taut, and Adam was terrified that he was going to snap.
Fascination fed his disgust.
Disgust fed his slipping self-control.
And that fed his own loathing, which intensified his need for release.
His craving for murder.
Adam couldn’t do what would eventually have to be done.
It wasn’t time and he wasn’t yet ready.
So he closed the bathroom door and did the only thing he could do for now.
Chapter Twelve
Kari kept on talking, with barely a breath between her thoughts. Corban listened like he had for the past several minutes as they sat outside on the porch, where rustling leaves were the only other sound.
“… So it’s officially murder. No one is even trying to pretend that it isn’t anymore. My mom won’t even watch the news. She hates how they’re always trying to whip everyone into a needless frenzy. Did you know that the first newspaper was commissioned by Julius Caesar?” Kari didn’t wait for his answer. “It was a daily list of announcements, carved into stone or metal. Can you believe that? You probably had to get it right the first time. No delete, and definitely no app for that. I bet they still had fake news, though. I wonder what Caesar would think about all of this.”
Corban didn’t answer that either. He hated talking about any of this, but Kari wanted to and that was fine with him, so long as he could mostly listen.
She chose that moment to notice his discomfort. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugged. It wasn’t just that he didn’t really want to talk about what were now being called the Almond Park Killings. Corban got plenty of that at home whether he wanted it or not.
He and Kari were alone at her house, and the last time that happened, they’d had a plan, before her father interrupted them. But now that plan was apparently a memory. Kari was hooked on rumors and hearsay.
“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just—”
“I sound like your mom?”
“Not exactly,” Corban said. “But speaking of your mom, is it true that she isn’t home?”
“Nope. She’s out with her friends. She’s always out with her friends.”
“And your dad?”
“He’s working.” She laughed. “What are you actually asking, Corban?”
His heart was beating too fast. Why did this have to be so hard?
Kari was being playful, inviting him to play back. All he had to do was make a move and she’d surely move right along with him. He had been trying to maneuver her off the porch and into her bedroom for almost forty-five minutes. If he leaned over and kissed her now, he would bet every dollar in his bank account that she would kiss him right back.
But still Corban remained a statue.
Or maybe even a coward.
Levi would never have hesitated. His brother wasn’t just confident, he had swagger. If Levi wanted Kari half as much as Corban did, he would have already slept with her, before telling his brother all the sordid details.
Levi had done it with four different girls, for a total of twenty-three encounters, not including hummers and handis. But Corban was still a virgin.
Keeping score, it was four to zero. And like always, Corban was the zero.
He wanted to kiss Kari. Felt desperate to do it.
And now he finally would.
But he couldn’t. Not yet.
He steeled himself, looked at Kari. She had to know what he was thinking. His hand was sitting on the bench, palm up, hungry for her breast.
He licked his lips, he was a second away.
Corban leaned forward and—
The front door slammed.
Kari jerked away from Corban and looked inside the house.
“What is it?”
“Someone’s home. Probably my dad. I bet my mom’s never slammed a door like that in her life.”
“Is he mad about something?”
Kari shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe he’s in a hurry.”
“Should we go inside?”
“No. He probably doesn’t know we’re here, and he might be leaving again, if he came back for something he forgot.”
“Okay, cool.”
But Corban couldn’t relax. His heart was beating even harder, but for a different reason now. And Kari seemed distracted, if not altogether oblivious.
“Is he yelling?” Corban asked.
“It sure sounds like it. Maybe he is mad. And in that case, let’s definitely stay outside.”
Less than a minute later, Kari’s father was right on the other side of the wall, pacing back and forth on the phone.
It sounded like three different calls. The first one was all mumbles and mutters. Neither Corban nor Kerry could make out a word. The next conversation came loud, Ollie yelling something about Lakeway Estates and liability. The last sounded frantic, upset but subdued. Corban listened hard, but he couldn’t make out enough to have any idea what was going on.
They stared into each other’s eyes, perfectly silent, while Corban craved Kari’s lips.
They were red, but he was yellow.
> No one had spoken in minutes by the time they barely heard the front door close, whispering shut as if in defeat.
Corban knew exactly how it felt.
Chapter Thirteen
Levi laughed. “It feels fucking amazing. What else do you want me to tell you? How many ways can I explain it?”
Dane shrugged. “Maybe if any of your prior explanations were anywhere near satisfactory, I wouldn’t still be asking.”
“You’re eighteen years old, dude, and not bad looking. At least ten percent of the girls at Wembley would be willing to fuck you. Just don’t let them get to know you, because then most of them will change their minds for sure.”
“Forget it, then.”
Levi didn’t want to forget it. He liked telling his friends about his conquests. He wouldn’t be the only among them with experience much longer, and Dane would be the first to go. Levi was surprised that he hadn’t already. Besides, Dane always asked the best questions, and not just to set up a punchline, like Elliot did.
“You don’t have to forget it,” Levi said. “It’s just not an easy question to answer. Sex doesn’t just feel one way. It depends on my mood, and who I’m doing it with. What if I were to ask you what eating was like? What would you say?”
Without thinking, Dane said, “I’d have to talk about autophagia.”
“Autowhat?”
“Eating one’s own body.”
Levi grimaced. “What the hell, dude?”
“You’d know if you didn’t sleep through health class every day. Elliot brought it up when Mr. D was talking about eating disorders.”
That was definitely Elliot. “Why would you talk about that?”
“As an example of how much difference there could be between two people’s experience of eating. Sufferers feel a tremendous sense of arousal before they start eating themselves—”
“Speaking from personal experience?” Levi joked, hoping to derail that train of thought.
“—but then there’s intense pleasure,” Dane continued. Because sometimes he just couldn’t resist being a dick. “Once the act is finished, the feeling of arousal is replaced with a deep sense of guilt or regret.”
