Chapter 15 Diem #3
“I don’t do the hard shit, okay. A bit of coke sometimes, but I can’t afford it, and I won’t suck nobody’s cock for a high.
I won’t stoop that low. Mostly I buy weed, and that doesn’t count ’cause it’s legal.
My landlord is okay with it. He doesn’t care what we do, and I’m not giving you my dealer’s name, so don’t fucking ask. ”
“I don’t give a shit about your drug dealer or your coke habit or that you smoke weed on occasion. I want to know who hired you to get into Elwood’s bank account.”
“I don’t know his—”
“Stop fucking lying.” I slammed a fist on the table, making both Tallus and Darcy jump.
“D.” Tallus’s hand landed on my thigh and squeezed. Echo leaned against my other leg, chuffing and whimpering.
Reining in my temper, I cracked my knuckles and exhaled. “I’m sorry I shouted. Tell me his name.”
Darcy shrank and whispered, “I don’t know his name. That’s the truth.”
“Did you meet up with him?”
He paused, darting his gaze to the teen behind the counter.
“Don’t fucking lie again. I’ll know.”
“Once, okay. Just once.”
“Once isn’t enough for the shit you pulled, Darcy.
You must have had a means of communicating with this guy.
An email address. A phone number. Christ, kid, give me something to work with.
I’m not after you. Why are you biting the hand that’s literally fucking feeding you and trying to help? I could call the cops, but I’m not.”
Darcy spun the ring and glowered at the empty wrappers on the tray. Hot pink crescents underscored his eyes. The brat had petulance down to an art. Why was he being so fucking stubborn?
I fucking hated kids. My patience was all but gone, and my skin buzzed and itched. I yearned for a cigarette or a hard shot of something to cool the inferno roasting my insides.
I was about to snap something unsavory when Tallus beat me to the punch.
“One finger, D. Let me break one finger, and he’ll talk. You’ll be happy. I’ll be happy. We’ll be home in time to watch an episode of Alone before bed.”
“We aren’t breaking fingers.”
“Ugh. You’re no fun.” Tallus glared at Darcy. “You’re lucky he’s in a good mood.”
“This is a good mood?” Darcy couldn’t have looked more terrified.
Tallus snickered.
I couldn’t hide my amusement. “Oh kid. I know it’s hard to believe, but ordinarily, I’m an asshole.”
Tallus leaned over the table. “Just an FYI. His good mood is fading fast. I suggest you tell him what he wants to know before he gets cranky.”
Darcy’s fidgeting grew worse. His anger simmered, but he was too afraid of me to explode.
I should have felt bad. I had stressed him out to the point that I recognized in him symptoms mirroring withdrawal.
Stress and addiction were Siamese twins, forever linked, forever battling one another for dominance.
We were quite the pair, and like that long-ago day in the parking lot of JP Supplements, I heard the echo of my past, saw a ghostly impression of a different time, a different place.
This kid was nineteen-year-old me. Angry. Aggressive. Petulant.
Afraid.
And alone.
I knew how to get him to talk, but unfortunately, I needed to ditch my boyfriend to make it happen. He was not going to like it.
“Tallus, take Echo to the Jeep and wait for me. I’ll be ten or fifteen minutes.”
“What? No.”
I called Echo to my side and removed her working vest, telling her she was a good girl and to go with Tallus, then I handed Tallus the leash.
“D. You can’t kill him. It’s against the law.”
Without responding, I waited for him to take the leash.
Tallus scoffed, skewering me with a look that threatened doom, but he stopped arguing. I would pay for this later.
Once Tallus—still limping—was gone, I addressed Darcy, who glared warily from under his bangs.
“Let’s take a walk.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
I chuckled. “No. Tallus has a flair for the dramatics and watches too much TV.”
“Where are we going?”
“I saw a convenience store on the corner. I’ll buy you a pack of cigarettes and toss in a couple of bags of chips, cans of pop, or whatever you think you need. Fuck, I don’t know. I’ll buy a loaf of bread if you want. Then, you’re going to tell me what I want to know.”
“But I don’t know—”
I held up a hand, stopping the lie.
“You want a smoke as bad as I do, kid. Last chance.”
I didn’t wait for him to argue, aimed for the door, and left.
It took Darcy three and a half minutes before he pulled himself out of the booth and followed, dragging his tattered running shoes on the pavement like a scorned toddler. We walked silently to the store, and I did as I promised. I bought him smokes and enough high-calorie snacks to last a week.
On the street, Darcy glanced longingly in the direction of his apartment. I could read the yearning to escape all over his face.
I said nothing. He knew what I wanted.
Darcy set the bags of goodies on the ground and dug around until he found the pack of cigarettes. He tore through the cellophane and withdrew one, fitting it between his lips. Patting his pockets, he groaned. “I lost my lighter.”
I found my Bic and tossed it at his chest. He caught it, mumbled thanks, and lit up. The burning desire to join him was almost too much to resist. I’d gone all day without a cigarette, and I was at my limit.
When Darcy caught me staring, he offered the pack.
My fingers twitched to accept. My blood surged, but I shook my head and gritted my teeth. “I’m trying to quit.”
He pocketed the cigarettes and my lighter and stared down the street as he smoked.
I waited.
“He gave me a burner,” Darcy said when his cigarette was half gone. “Told me I could call him Luke, but that’s not his real name.”
“Where’s the phone?”
“My apartment.”
“Do you still work for him?”
“I told you—”
“And you lied. Are you still working for him?”
Darcy hauled on the cigarette until the cherry end glowed. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and nodded.
I motioned for him to walk. At his building, I asked, “How many times have you met the guy in person?”
“Once.”
“Dear fucking god, kid. How. Many. Times. Have—”
“Fine. Three.”
I motioned to the stairwell leading to the basement rental. “Get the phone.”
“What?”
“I want to see it.”
“No.”
I glared, and Darcy withered. “He’ll kill me.”
“Not if I kill you first. Get the fucking phone.”
“You’re a real asshole.”
“And you’re a petulant fucking child who is riding my last nerve. Do as you’re told for once.”
“Fuck you. You aren’t my father.”
But Darcy didn’t argue further and aimed for the stairs. “Stay out here,” he warned.
“No.”
“My roommates don’t like company.”
“Too fucking bad. I don’t trust you.”
Seeming reluctant, Darcy unlocked the door. I followed him inside and stopped dead at the sight of what lay beyond the threshold.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”