Bad for You

Nine

T he reason I’ve not set this crack house on fire is because Lewis may be inside. But the thought of him being inside here is just too hard to fathom.

My mom was a junkie. There’s no way Lewis would touch that shit. But could it be the case of the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?

I don’t even want to think about that right now.

First and foremost, I need to watch and learn because acting on impulse will not work in my favor.

If Lewis is in here, then it’s because he wants to be, hooked on whatever shit he’s putting into his body, and I know a happy family reunion isn’t in the cards for us.

I failed him when I promised that I would protect him.

He has every right to hate me.

Knowing he may have followed in the footsteps of our mom has me gripping the pendant around my throat, wishing for direction more than ever.

I have to meet Aldo soon, but I couldn’t not come here first.

I needed to see if what Gianna said held any weight. So far, I’m hoping she’s full of shit because if Lewis is here, then I fear he’s lost to me forever.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.

I’ll try until the day I die to save him. But I fear he may get there first.

A young woman with pink hair comes out of the front door. She’s wearing a school uniform. I watch with interest. She looks from left to right before taking the three stairs and hitting the pavement.

I want to ask her if she’s seen Lewis. But I don’t even know what he looks like. Or if he’s changed his name.

Did he grow tall? Strong? Is he still as stubborn as always?

I hate that I don’t know the answers to these questions.

And besides, I can’t ask anyone just yet because word will get back to him, and he’ll run. And then I’m back to square one.

I finally have a lead.

So I can’t blow it.

But patience isn’t my strong suit.

I decide to follow her, though.

I keep a fair distance behind and ensure I remain as inconspicuous as possible. She’s tapping her fingers on her leg to whatever song is playing in her earbuds. Rookie move. She walks about without her hearing, a vital sense we need to ensure no one is following us, like right now.

She crosses the street in no real hurry, which makes me believe she isn’t strung out. She doesn’t appear to be jonesing for her next fix, which has me thinking she’s a dealer.

So the question is, where does she get the gear from?

I follow until she reaches an upmarket apartment complex, a completely different vibe from the crack house she was just in.

Now, this is something I was not expecting.

I have all the answers I’m going to get today, so I cross the street and make my way to Aldo’s store. It’s in a rough part of town. I’m not sure the demographic here would have any use for crystals, well, not the kind Aldo sells anyway.

I was half expecting this to be a joke, but when I see the storefront, I’m glad I’m not a betting man.

Pure Opalence.

That’s what Aldo’s store is called, a clever play on words for so many reasons.

The bell above the door alerts my arrival. I’m instantly hit with sandalwood and soft, calming music the moment I enter. The place is small but stocked well. Crystal ornaments, crystal jewelry, and all crystals known to humankind are laid out strategically.

A sign near the counter with an arrow pointing at the red curtain lets customers know you can get your palm or tarot read for ten bucks.

If I wasn’t standing here in chakra alley, then I would never believe my eyes.

I walk over to the huge crystal rock in the corner of the room. I have no idea what it does, but priced at fifteen thousand dollars, I would hope it could bring world peace.

“That’s an amethyst. The all-purpose stone,” says a voice I recognize as Aldo from behind me.

“For that price tag, I would hope its purpose would include cleaning my house and doing my laundry for the rest of my life.”

Turning around, I meet a smiling Aldo. He’s dressed in black pants and a white shirt. He’s all business, looking very professional in a place where Crocs and tie-dye shirts are usually the norm.

He reads my thoughts. “You don’t believe in this”—he searches for the right word—“mumbo jumbo?”

I laugh because if anyone else were to use that term, I would punch them in the face. “I guess I’m more of a practical man. I believe in anything that proves itself to me. If your crystals here can offer anything other than pretty colors, then sure, sign me up.”

Aldo mulls over my comment before bursting into laughter. “Mi piaci.”

I nod, pretending I have no idea Aldo just said he likes me.

“I have to go out for an hour. Think you can handle the place while I’m gone?”

Another test.

“As long as I don’t need to read anyone’s palm, I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“There’s freshly brewed herbal tea out back.”

“To do what with?”

“To drink,” Aldo replies, still laughing.

“And it’ll still be there when you get back.”

Herbal fucking tea.

Aldo leaves, trusting me with his merchandise because he knows I wouldn’t steal a thing in this store. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a soleus balancing charm?

I go behind the counter and see an old-fashioned till. Pushing a few buttons on it, I get the hang of it soon enough, but I doubt I’ll be making any sales. Because who the fuck would buy anything from here?

Poking my head through the red curtain, I can’t contain my chuckle when I see the small circular table covered by a black velvet tablecloth with a crystal ball atop it.

There’s got to be a catch.

I don’t even bother looking into the small kitchenette ’cause the herbal tea was enough of a hint that I won’t like anything in there.

The bell sounds, alerting me that someone just entered. I expect to see Aldo, revealing he was just joking about leaving me unsupervised, but it’s a woman in yoga gear carrying a tote with a picture of a cow and the slogan “Don’t have a cow, man” written across it.

She has in her earbuds so she doesn’t hear me when I emerge from the back. I stand behind the counter, watching her to see if perhaps she’s here for another reason besides the decor. She reaches for some wind chimes, which make a god-awful ruckus.

How the fuck does one find harmony in what sounds like a four-year-old bashing two glass bottles together while listening to Metallica?

“Do you have this but with tiger’s eye?” she asks, holding up some circular ornament.

When I look at her like she just spoke in Swahili, she removes an earbud. Perhaps she thinks I didn’t hear her, but I heard her loud and clear. I just don’t understand the question.

“I thought you’d be against animal cruelty.” When it’s her turn to look at me like I’ve just spoken in another language, I jut my chin out toward her bag.

She peers down at it, as if forgetting what bag she has. After a second, she giggles. “Not literal tiger’s eye. The stone, I mean.”

“Oh, my bad. Honestly, you’d have more idea than I would,” I reply blankly. “I only know that thing is an atheist or something.”

“Amethyst,” she corrects with a small smile.

“Yeah, right. See? Point proven.”

I leave her to her shopping because right now, I sound like a dumbass. I open the drawers behind the counter in hopes of finding something that will prove my hunch that this place is just a sham to conceal the illegal dealings that really take place here.

But I find nothing as expected.

“I’ll take these.”

I forgot the woman was here because that’s how interesting her tiger’s eye talk was. She smiles when I look at the array of goods she places on the counter.

Some are household items with crystals in them. I honestly don’t know about the other stuff and won’t embarrass myself further by trying to guess.

I ring up the total and blanch when this pile of junk comes in at over a hundred bucks. But the woman looks at me, confused.

When she reads my puzzlement, she clarifies, “Oh, Aldo said he left a bag of quartz for me?”

Her comment piques my interest because this is surely code for drugs.

I fucking knew it.

“My name is Chanty. He said it was in the back,” she adds before I can ask.

“Be right back.”

I round the corner and see a door down the end of the skinny hallway. I have no idea what I’m about to find when I open it. I peer around the doorjamb, expecting to see it stocked high with drugs, guns, and everything else illegal, but when I see crystals and stones, I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

This isn’t going how I thought.

Remembering I have a customer, I quickly check the shelves for her order and am definitely disappointed when I see a bag of white and pink stones with her name on it.

“What the fuck am I missing here?” I mumble under my breath as I grab the bag and make my way back into the store.

When she sees her goods, she smiles happily.

I add the bag of crap to the total, which comes to over five hundred dollars. “What are you doing with this shit?” I ask, genuinely curious.

She stops rifling through her bag. Her eyes widen before she composes herself. “I teach art.”

She offers no other explanation.

She pays me in cash and places her items in her tote. I assume she’s a “say no to plastics” kinda girl.

“Thanks. I’ll see you next week.”

I don’t ask why the fuck she needs more rock ’cause what kind of art class does she teach? I am so out of my element right now.

Chanty leaves while I wonder what I’ve missed. There’s nothing here to prove my suspicions. Everything has a place. It’s clean—too clean.

Something is amiss.

But what?

The bell once again chimes, hinting yet another customer is here.

Am I wrong? Could Aldo really be an upstanding citizen who runs a legitimate business selling…crystals?

I snort out a laugh because what in the ever-living mumbo jumbo is happening?

“Who are you?”

Could it be that being among all this spiritual shit has awoken my third eye? Is the universe talking to me like a book I saw on the shelf said it does?

Whatever the reason, I’m going to take it as a sign because who stands before me is the girl with the pink hair.

I look at her.

She looks at me.

When I don’t say a word, she folds her arms across her chest. “Are you another exchange student my dad sponsored without telling me?”

She assumes I don’t understand her because I’m looking at her with a deer-in-the-headlights look. But there is no fucking way she is who I think she is ’cause if she is, then I was right. And nothing gets me harder than being right.

“I’m Lenny. Aldo asked me to watch the store for him. He’ll be back in an hour.”

She doesn’t make it a secret she’s examining me closely. She doesn’t trust me. Nor does she like me. “This is so typical of Aldo.”

She makes a beeline for the back, but I quickly sidestep, blocking her path.

She does not appreciate me doing this. I’m twice her size, but she doesn’t let that intimidate her. Her long hair is the color of cotton candy. And her eyes are green. She’s beautiful, but I don’t mistake her beauty for softness. She is all attitude, which is my favorite kind.

“Oh my God, you’re even lamer than Rocco, and that’s saying something. Move, pretty boy.” She shoves me out of the way, heading into the kitchen while my brain finally plays catch-up.

“Aldo is your father.” It’s not a question but rather a statement.

She pauses from sipping her tea, looking at me over the rim of her mug like I am a daft little bitch. “The more you speak, the more I want to punch you in the face.”

She finishes her tea before hunting through the drawer and placing a bag of green stones into her schoolbag. “I’m late, and you’re wasting my time. Let’s never do this again.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to get a word in edgewise and, once again, shoves me out of the way, leaving the store without another word.

What the fuck just happened?

I’m even more confused than ever, but what I do know is that Aldo’s daughter may know where Lewis is. If this is a sign from the universe, then I am now a fucking believer.

Aldo returns an hour later, offering to pay me, which I, of course, decline.

I don’t mention his daughter because, again, I don’t want to arouse any suspicion. So when he asks me to meet him tomorrow same time, same place, I agree without question.

Gianna asked me to pick up a new car from a dealership, which is not uncommon for her. Then she sent me a list that made me wonder if I was shopping for a frat party.

So when I drive the Mercedes convertible into the garage and hear Limp Bizkit, I’m prepared to walk into just that.

With groceries in hand, I walk around the back, and what I see has me almost tripping over my own damn feet.

Perhaps I’m high from all the incense and crystals and shit, but life isn’t that kind because Valentina is really in the pool with two fuckhead jocks while Gianna lounges on a chair, reading a book.

What the fuck alternative universe is this?

“Oh, look, the errand boy is back with the snacks,” Valentina says, treading water. “I hope you got cherry cola.”

She peers at the six-pack of beer I’m holding while I stand speechless. What in the ever-living fuck is going on right now?

Gianna’s huge sunglasses take up half her face, but they don’t hide her smirk—that fucking bitch.

This is payback for what happened last night.

She knew how fucking angry this would make me because right now, I’m fucking fuming.

One of the guys swims over to the edge of the pool and offers me his fist like we’re bros. I look down at the limb, then back up at the fucker. I have on sunglasses, but he reads loud and clear that he has three seconds to get the fuck out of my face before I use my own fist to punch out his teeth.

He swims away to safety.

Apart from the obvious, something is very wrong with Valentina. She is pissed off—more so than usual, that is.

I don’t know what happened last night for her to…

Oh fuck.

Did she see what happened between Gianna and me? Or perhaps Gianna told her? This would explain the insanity I’m currently witnessing.

And when Valentina stands, revealing the skimpy red bikini she’s wearing, as if making a point, it seems my inkling may be true.

God, her body is fucking perfection. She’s curvy and strong. I know how she smells because I want to fucking devour her every time she walks past me. She brushes the wet hair from her face and licks away a droplet of water lingering on her top lip.

I’ve tried not to think of her this way because nothing good ever comes of it, but goddamn, I’m weak when she’s looking at me all wet and sun-kissed. I want to rob her of air as I kiss the fuck out of her while she’s pulling my hair. I want to choke the smile from her face until she moans my name.

My cock is about to punch a hole through my jeans.

One of the guys makes it very clear he is eyeing Valentina’s breasts. I barely resist the urge to throw a beer can at his stupid face.

She’s doing this to get a rise out of me, but I’ll be damned if I cave.

I stare her down, making it very clear that she can flaunt her shit all she wants. It doesn’t make a difference because I’m not jealous—even though I want to rip off those two motherfuckers’ heads and shit down their headless necks.

Gianna waits for me to react. And I do occasionally put her teachings into practice.

I count to three and channel some fucking crystal energy juju, dumping the bags and beer by the pool’s edge.

I don’t say a word as I turn around and make my way into the house so I can kick the shit out of the punching bag in the gym because I am not jealous—said no one ever.

Namaste, motherfuckers.