CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Nice To Meet You, I’m An Asshat
LAKE
“Can’t believe none of this shit,” I say again, slapping the obituary paper back on the table. The picture of Serenity’s sister looks as empty as my graduation photo.
Brooks keeps his mouth shut. He drives the paper closer to him, sighing and mumbling to himself, before drilling his fingertips into the sides of his head. Then he leans into his squeaky dining room chair.
“Lake.”
The table and chairs are old and ruined. He lives in a damn penthouse, but he has cheap-ass furniture, because he never takes the time to buy anything new. The chair he’s sitting on is close to collapsing underneath him, but Brooks is too busy with work. He’d just sit on the floor if it did.
I pace around his table and chomp at the skin on my bottom lip. Each step I take, I bite down harder. It’s fucking hot in here. My palms are sweating.
Brooks holds out his hand. “Lake, stop.”
I stop at the opposite side of the splitting table-top and eye him down, but I don’t take in the anger extending across his face.
Delilah Madden’s obituary. I was searching for one thing, anything that proved my dad was telling the truth, and I knew I’d find it on that flimsy piece of paper. Delilah’s struggle with addiction was all I had to see.
I’m pissed about it. I’ll keep telling myself I’m pissed about it.
After that, I left Serenity’s and ended up at Brooks’ place. He told me to crash on his couch and refused to have a conversation with me until morning. All that occupied my mind was having this talk, so I didn’t sleep last night. I tried to get comfortable on the couch, but I ended up watching some stupid romance movies on mute.
“What’s wrong?” Brooks glances at the obituary and strikes it. “I know you don’t give a damn about this.”
No idea what he’s talking about, so I scoff. “She only helped me because her damn sister died.”
His head lightly shakes to compensate for the aggressive, loud sigh that tears out of his lungs. He can sigh all he wants, and question me about whatever, but I’m mad Serenity lied to me about her sister. That’s why I left. That’s it.
“You’re being irrational,” he states. “What happened to your face?”
I smack my hands flat on his table. The entire thing shakes.
Not being irrational. Just pissed off. I don’t even give a shit about what else happened. I beat my dad’s ass, and I got rewarded with the truth about Delilah, confirmed it, and that’s what’s important. There’s nothing else to it.
I roam around the length of the table again, stopping and spinning at each corner, then repeating. Brooks watches my every move. The anger increases on his face, so I open my mouth. “Nothing happened.”
“Did you go see your dad?”
My body freezes in place. I push out my jaw and scrunch my lips together. The tenseness in the joint is painful, but it offers me a bit of relief.
“I know he got out of prison. Did you go see him?”
If I keep squeezing my jaw, it’s gonna either lock or break, so I change my mediator to pushing my hands into my hair. “That’s not relevant.”
The fury runs from Brooks’ face, covering his entire body. His shoulders square and his eye twitches. It takes control of him, pushing him out of his chair, and the chair squeaks in relief.
“You have no idea what’s going on, Lake.”
I pull at the front of my t-shirt and force air through it.
“You don’t give a shit why she brought you back to life.” He waves out his hand. “You’re happy you had her, but you push her away cause of a dead relative?”
He’s focused on me, and the pressure that expends forces me to rock on my feet and look as far away from him as I can, but no matter how uncomfortable I am, he doesn’t quit. “This has jack shit to do with her, Lake.” He takes a step around the table. “You’re planning to relapse.”
“Not planning a relapse, dipshit.” I huff through my nose and talk at two-times speed. “Why did I come here then? Instead of just runnin’ off and shooting up?”
He widens his eyes. “You really want me to explain that to you?”
All I do is shrug my shoulders.
“Alright.” Brooks folds his arms, sticks out his palm, and motions with it. “You’re tryna cut ties. You’re here to pick a fight, so you don’t feel like shit when you race out of here and stick a needle in your arm.”
He doesn’t get it. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not fit to be near these people that are so insistent on giving me life. Everything I do falls short at some point. All the effort I put in never amounts to the damage I’ve caused or keep on causing.
I shut my eyes and tuck in my bottom lip.
No, I’m angry. Believe that I’m angry at you, Serenity.
“It’s not happening, Lake.” He points at me. “I will hold you hostage, and you won’t get River’s letters.”
I lick the inside of my cheek. “Think you know me? You’re not my damn dad, Brooks.”
“Your dad isn’t your fucking dad.”
“Fuck off. I’m fine.” I swing my arms out beside me and strain them. “Clean for the longest I’ve been.”
He tilts his head. “And it’s gonna stay that way.”
“You think I’m staying here after you just threated River’s letters?”
I’ve lived out of my truck before. I’ll do it again with my trusty cardboard box.
He tucks his lips tight, giving himself a moment. His fingers pinch into his arms. If his nails were any sharper, he’d rip right through his dress shirt. “It’s not a threat, Lake. I’m not allowed to hand them over if you relapse.”
Relapse. If I just got her letters, I could escape from everything and never remember a bit of this life once I get something in these veins. Yeah. It would be easier for everyone if I just make myself the enemy. Easier to forget me.
“Haven’t I done enough to work?” I question. “I should have her letters in my fricking hands.”
He ignores me. “Why are you scratching at your arm if you aren’t planning to relapse?”
I look down and see my fingers digging into my tattoo. Right at my scars, over my veins and on Angel’s handwriting. I drag my nails away from her writing, and my heart wither in my chest. Her face flickers in my mind. Her smile, then hear her laughing. I can feel her warmth clouding me when I hug her close to my chest. Then the building guilt is solidified when I remember my hand landing square into dad’s face.
I drift around the table, but Brooks copies my movements. He steers himself in front of me, nudging me back when I try to slip around him.
“The hell?” I push him back. “Screw you!”
He doesn’t speak, instead he turns into a statue, only moving if it prevents me from leaving. His eyes look beyond me, even when I shove him again, but my veins are aching. I need to get out of here.
“Fuck you Brooks. You’re a shit person, and I wish you died instead of River. At least she would’ve given me your letters that I damn-well earned.” I stab my finger at my chest. “Then I’d take them and burn them into ashes.”
Regret drowns me the moment that string of desperation leaves my mouth. I float back to the last time I spoke to my sister, when I yelled at her the same way and smashed her plates. Then I lost her. I don’t wanna lose my brother.
No, it’s more selfish than that.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I murmur. “Just fucking yell at me.”
His jaw squeezes tight, and he steers his head to his hallway, staring into blankness. Even after that, he stays as steady as a large rock, not moving out of my way.
“Anything. Hit me, Brooks, fucking hit me.” I point at my cheek.
He doesn’t even shake his head. His only motive is so stop me from messing up my life again, but the guilt and agony are growing stronger than any love he’s trying to give me. I gotta get the hell out of here.
“Move, Brooks.”
“You know what, Lake?” he snaps. “Serenity is in trouble—”
There’s a loud, fluttery, and repetitive knock at the door I’m trying to reach. Brooks turns his neck to glance in that direction. I try to plan my escape, but it’s hard to organize a plan in my depleted skull when the knocking turns into aggressive thuds. It becomes impossible when the door breaks off the hinges and falls flat on the floor. The woman responsible lowers her leg, that she just kicked the damn door with.
I don’t register who she is until Brooks shouts, “are you kidding me, Jimena?”
She gives him the time of day for a petty second before charging right for me, shouting my name, and stabbing her hand into the sky like it’s a greater weapon than anything else around her. Brooks attempts to grab her, but she bumps her hip so hard into his pelvis he stumbles back into his kitchen counters.
“The hell are you doing here?” I back up and turn my head to Brooks. “How does she know where you live?”
He doesn’t respond, probably cause he’s watching Jimena’s fist draw back and drill through the air. Then clock me in the face.
That’s the hardest blow I’ve felt in a long damn time, cause it makes me weak in the knees and I collapse onto the damn floor. It knocks some sense into me that I’ve struggled to keep the last few days, because I notice the tall vase of flowers on Brooks’ counter.
He never buys flowers.
“You have a key, Mena.” Brooks sighs out in the most monotone voice ever.
So damn confused. A little hurt he didn’t tell me. He could’ve told me. What’s with everyone keeping secrets?
I don’t get the chance to ask before Jimena grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me, breaking my damn neck so I can see her from my spot on the floor.
“How dare you leave? You didn’t let her explain a single thing!”
“He only saw the obituary, Jimena.” Brooks takes a step towards her. “He doesn’t know about anything else.”
Her hand flies back behind her, holding it up at him, so he stops talking. Then she creepily turns her head away from me and glares over her shoulder. Brooks looks downright terrified. He doesn’t move another muscle.
She grits her teeth. “How do you know what I know?”
“Neither of you will like this.” His shoulders slump. “But I guess I have no choice.”
Oh, perfect.
“Before Lake and Serenity got married, when I was trying to figure out how to get him sober, I realized how he was with her.”
Jimena’s hand claws deeper at my scalp, and I sit there wincing, trying to pay attention.
“I have friends at the police station.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Made buddies with them to monitor Lake when he tried to disappear last time.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “You what—”
Jimena cuts me off, wringing my head around like it isn’t attached to my body. “Shut up! Dios mio.”
Brooks fails to hide his satisfaction at the nightmare Jimena’s creating, but the smile vanishes when he continues. “It was some right place, right time stuff. I went in that day to ensure her record was clean. Which it is, but there were detectives visiting from a different department. Homicide detectives.”
Jimena lets me go, rises to her full height, and turns to face my brother. I don’t move from my spot because my entire head is pulsing, and I’d probably die by my own hands or Jimena’s if I tried to move.
“They were also trying to get her file, checking for drug history or something. Not sure.”
My face feels numb, but I think I lift my damn eyebrow. What the hell is he yapping about? Why are detectives searching for a file on my angel?
“That’s how I learned of her case, and I kept observing her and Lake. She was good for him.” He’s staring at Jimena while he talks. “I knew her financial issues were about her case. Not a mortgage. I figured out why she sold her car.”
I pipe up, “a case?”
Nobody answers me. Getting real sweaty now.
“You knew she wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to help someone.” Jimena points at me and I flinch.
He runs his hands across his face. “Yes. Especially if that person would keep her out of jail and let her keep her life.”
Jimena shakes her head. “That’s a dick move, Brooks.”
My heart’s flying around my chest. Watching whatever tension happening between these two would be great any other time, but I got no clue what they’re saying, and how it involves my wife.
“Is Serenity in trouble? Can someone give me something? A nod?”
Brooks ignores me again. “Mena, I swear, I wouldn’t have done this if she had nothing to gain from it. She saved my brother’s life. I wanted to help her.” He pauses before flicking his head in my direction. “But I also needed to help him.”
Jimena takes a deep breath, choosing to nod her head.
“So happy that’s done with,” I mutter. “Now, can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”
She groans, digs into her purse, and pulls out a stack of papers. “Her sister framed her for murder, dumbass.”
***
My head is in severe pain, but not because of the swats it’s taken recently. It’s because I feel like crap. I should’ve listened to Serenity before I left. She needed me to be there for her, but I took a fragment of her truth and used it to run off instead.
As if I give a shit about the truth.
Jimena and Brooks are right. So is Angel. I don’t care about her hiding her sister’s death. Serenity’s love lets no one go to waste. I know that’s why she saved my life, but my dad broke my heart even though I’m twenty-five years old. His words sunk right in the crevice of my skull, because dad’s right too. I’m not cut out for this.
What I just pulled is a great example. I get a little overwhelmed, so I tell my brother, my best friend, that I wish he was dead?
I go through all this work, but I still fall backwards and hurt people. So, as badly as I tried to be the man Serenity deserves, I’m just not.
Jimena keeps going, spilling everything she knows down to the tiniest detail. The more she speaks, the faster I return to my body, and the need for a sliver of heroin distorts itself.
“Right. So they still haven’t found his body,” Brooks says.
Jimena shakes her head. “Just his hand and bloody clothes. Some were his, and the rest were feminine clothes. They have no proof, but they’re trying to say the clothes are hers.”
I wanna blow something up, but I can’t. So I do what I can and contribute to the conversation. “There’s no way someone with Serenity’s frame, strung out on meth for years, could kill a grown man.”
Brooks nudges his head in my direction, agreeing with me.
Jimena puffs air through her cheeks. “Well, exactly, I don’t believe Delilah killed the guy. At least, not alone.” She taps her nails along the table. Her eyes move between Brooks and me, watching us flip through the papers.
The locked cabinet stored all of this. Serenity had every paper layered on her heart. I can’t believe how messy this shit is, and I can’t stand that I didn’t know about it sooner. No wonder she struggles to sit down and read an icky romance book. This case is pure torture.
Jimena convinced Serenity to show her the documents. Once my wife fell asleep, Jimena stole them, copied them, returned the originals, and now we’re here picking apart the case without Serenity knowing.
This is so much worse than an addict sister and a dumbass husband. I booked it and left her there with all this on her shoulders. Not only making her feel in the wrong, I made her feel alone. I’ll make it up to her, but I can never hurt her again.
My gut twists in circles. She told me she loved me, and I lied right through my teeth, saying I didn’t feel the same way.
Brooks hums under his breath, checking over the typed words. “Delilah had a boyfriend?”
“Something like that. I went over to central Boston last night and asked around. He’s a dealer,” Jimena confirms, then grabbing onto a set of papers. “A few people told me they used to be seen together a lot. Delilah would help him by bringing in new clients.”
“Central—”
“My dad said something about Delilah buying meth often.” I talk over Brooks without thinking. “Maybe she wasn’t just buying for herself?”
Brooks’ neck snaps, curving in my direction. “So you went to see your dad.”
I freeze. I don’t even allow my eyes to flick anywhere near my brother. The air in the room thickens with each passing moment, but before we all suffocate in it, I glance at Jimena, and I find a solution to get the attention off me.
“Jimena, how’d you get people to talk?”
She shrugs. “I bought cocaine and waved it in their faces.”
Brooks’ jaw splats onto the ground. His burning pupils leave me and focus on her. “You bought coke?”
That worked out better than expected.
Her eyebrows pierce closer. “I’d do anything for Serenity. She’s the only reason I got through nursing school.”
The space fills with more tension as she and Brooks glare with fire in their eyes. I feel like I’m interrupting something, so I go back to looking through documents Serenity’s lawyer typed up.
This Cooper shithead is gonna be taught a lesson. I saw the invoices of how much he’s been charging my wife. She’s been paying him for months, yet he hasn’t cleared her name, but he wants to pretend he’s worthy of charging that much.
Brooks spits out, “you shouldn’t have been anywhere near central.”
I sink into my seat. He sounds like me when I squawk at Serenity to lock the damn door.
She smacks her lips. “Too late now, isn’t it?”
I peer over the papers, panning back and forth between them. I got no idea what’s happening anymore, do I? I’m out of the loop, because he’s never mentioned getting all close with Serenity’s best friend. He’s staring at her in a way I’ve become familiar with. It’s the same way I study my wife.
“Did you get a name, Jimena?”
Brooks jumps next to me, smacking his knees on the bottom of the table. This moron forgot I was sitting here, and no wonder his table is about to snap. We’re both twice the height of it.
“They call him The Cook, I think—it’s something like that.” She looks up at the ceiling, squishing her lips.
My body goes stiff and a freezing chill crawls over my arms. There’s no way. “The Cooker of Boston?” Brooks and I roar at the same time.
Jimena snaps her fingers. “That’s it!”
“That’s Lake’s dealer.”
I blink at him. “You’re a real stalker, you know that?”
Brooks slumps deep into his chair and gives me a dirty look. “Got no choice when my brother acts like a wild animal—”
Jimena slams her fist onto the table. “Focus! You’re both idiots!”
I almost tremble in fear. All five feet and two inches of her scares the crap out of me. I’m pretty sure that one punch she threw earlier fractured my nose. Not that we have the time to care about that.
“Lake, do you still have contact with your dealer?” Jimena asks.
Brooks goes back to glaring at me. I’d love to lie and say no, but this ain’t about me. It’s for Serenity, so I nod my head, and Brooks sucks in a furious breath, blowing it out so hard it makes wind in my hair.
“Good! Good!” Jimena claps her hands.
Brooks spasms next to me. “Okay, I’m going to discount that for a minute. When was this handless dude last seen?”
Jimena flips through some papers. “Uh, on January 18th, at the Luna motel.”
Luna. I used to meet The Cooker there to get my fix. Everyone calls him TC. I knew that’s where Mancini went missing, but I never thought my dealer was involved. Or my wife.
“Right, and he had his own room?”
Jimena bows her head and responds, “yeah, that’s where they found Serenity’s ID.”
“January 18th?” I repeat.
Sounds familiar. I’m not sure why. January was a messed up month for me last year. I couldn’t pay my heat bill and my truck ran out of gas. I was walking everywhere for two weeks in the freezing cold, and when I needed to sleep, I curled up in my empty, dingy truck.
Now that I think about it, January 18th was when I asked TC to give me half a gram in advance. I told him I’d pay him when I could. I wasn’t even out yet, but that’s how icy it was. All I wanted was somewhere to take refuge in, so I could get warm and high.
“Is there anything at all saying Delilah and Eddie Mancini had any connection?”
I tune out Brooks and Jimena.
What happened after that?
Right. He texted me. He asked me to meet him somewhere, claimed to be in a hurry, but I warned him I couldn’t make it in time. TC’s name had grown big. He wasn’t screwing around with clients anymore. I heard he broke someone’s fingers, three of them, for every thousand they refused to pay him.
That night I thought I’d stay frozen, but I remember him saying he’d come pick me up.
He pulls up in a random car. Not the shiny black SUV I usually saw him in. He spots me in the middle of the parking lot and slams on the brakes before rolling down the car window. “Hop in the back.” He tilts his head at the door. “You look like a damn icicle.”
There’s a girl in the front seat. She mumbles something under her breath, lifting back her head and snorting white powder from a little bottle. She sounds upset. Her body is trembling, and she never glances at me, or at TC, only straight through the windshield.
There’s a gross feeling in my stomach, but I get in the backseat, anyway. Cause I want some more pre-crushed, mixed up pills.
I barely shut the door before TC speeds off.
“So, Lake, you still owe me half of your last dose.”
I nod, scratching at my head. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Real sorry. Need some more. I’ll get you the money as soon as I can,” keep on rambling, “just need a little more. Get me through the night, ya know?”
He looks into my eyes through the rear-view mirror. “I got something new. It’s gonna make you feel so good the second it hits your blood. Does that sound nice?”
Of course it did. I snort. “Yeah. Needle, though?”
I only ever got high through injection once. It wasn’t my favorite thing at the time, because needles felt final to me. Like that would really make me an addict.
“Yeah, but it’ll give you a nice kick.”
The woman urges, “can you just hurry this up and get him out of the car?”
“I’m doing business. Don’t you want a good life?” He bars his teeth. “I run this, not you.”
TC peers back through the rear-view mirror and smiles. He has a strange way with his clients—treating us like we’re his kids, and he’s just here to provide and protect us, give us what we need. He may not mess around with late payments anymore, but he’s been my dealer for a long ass time, and he knows how much business I’ve brought him, never asking for nothing in return, so he gives me some leeway.
Besides me, and a few others he likes, TC wants cash, and he wants more of it. “Okay. It’s a bit more expensive, though. I’ll give you a taste first. You’ll tell people how much you like it?”
I nod. Again. Scratching all over my skin, I watch him reach across and pop open the glove box, telling the girl in the passenger’s seat to give me the good stuff.
She sniffles, hesitating as she loads up the needle, trying to be careful with the amount.
“More than that,” he says to her. “He’s cold. I’m not gonna kick him out of the car.”
Her head shakes, but not enough to stop her from listening to TC’s demands.
“And stop crying,” he adds.
I take the needle from her. I still catch nothing about her appearance, because hood and freed strands of blonde hair cover it.
My teeth sink into my glove, and I start pulling it off, but TC stops me. “Lake. Lake. Keep your gloves on, man. You’re freezing.”
I’m getting confused, because the car is warm, but they’re bundled up from head to toe, and for whatever reason, the girl has rubber gloves on. I just wanna get high, so I don’t question her choice of gloves. “Anything I can wrap my arm with?”
***
I don’t have a single clue how long I was out of it. The moment I took that shit, I started feeling woozy. I got scared I’d pass out and puncture myself with the needle, so I tucked it between the seats.
Through blurred eyes, I watch TC hop out of the driver’s seat and open the back door. He lowers his gloved hand and picks up a bag next to me. A little white plastic bag, and throws it in the ditch next to us.
The lady whisper-shouts, “seriously? There?”
He rolls his eyes at her and falls back into the driver’s seat. “We’ve been driving for an hour. The fuck did you want me to do?”
The car takes off again. I can’t speak, but my vision’s clearing. I stay restrained as we drive on for another eternity. The thing is, TC’s samples always show the full effect, but they never sustain my mental high.
We end up stopping at the edge of a lake in the middle of a forest. The moment TC cuts the engine, rain pours, smacking off of the lake’s water, the car, and meshing into every tall tree surrounding us.
“Get out.” He nudges the woman. “You gotta help me.”
She protests, arguing with him for a moment until he makes her break down. She keeps bickering with him through her tears, but TC unfastens her seatbelt, and then they both take off. I’m slumped in my seat, still too strung out to turn my head, when the trunk pops open.
They vanish for a while. I think anyway, because I keep dozing off.
No fucking clue what’s going on, and I couldn’t move if I tried, but if I was sober, it would’ve made sense. Instead, I stay at peace. My body floating and my mind at rest, nothing but the rain to listen to.
I slowly come back to my body the longer they’re gone. Once their doors swing open and they sit back inside the car, I manage to weakly sit up. “That was a fun little trip.”
I’m referring to my high, not the drive.
The girl shrieks. “Holy shit!”
TC pats his hands together, dirt flying off of his gloves. “Can you calm down?” He spins around to look at me. “Hi buddy. You okay?”
“Yeah man, that shit’s pretty good. What are we doing here? Y’all were gone for a while.”
“Listen Lake, you know I care about you.” He smiles, taking his time to talk, lost in his own head for a minute. “I’ll give you another sample, free of charge, okay?”
He motions at the girl. She’s shaking as she fills another needle. It looks like a larger amount than last time. I can’t fully tell.
“More than that.” He returns his attention to me. “Switch your band to the other arm, alright?”
I do as he says. Not a single thought passing through my head. All I’m considering is the free high, and the warm car.
She croaks out, “what if he remembers?”
TC sways his head. “He won’t. Add a bit more, and just give it to him.”
I didn’t remember. Until now.
“Lake?” Brooks stares at me with concern. Even Jimena’s eyes are softer. She doesn’t look like she wants to fly over the table and kill me.
Brooks asks, “are you okay?”
“Crap.” My eyes widen. “I was there.”
I push back my chair, straighten my legs, and scan the papers scattered around the table. “I was there. I know what happened.”