Chapter 2
Rico
How long do I continue staring up at the ceiling before finally admitting I’m not getting back to sleep and haul my ass out of bed?
At least five more minutes, apparently.
The trouble is, I haven’t got anything planned for my day off. I did all my chores yesterday and tomorrow morning I’ll be back on shift, so I promised myself I could sleep in today.
Naturally, that meant my brain woke me up at 4am and has refused to let me drift off again since. It’s a Sunday and I had half a notion of doing Sunday things like finding somewhere cute for brunch or doing yoga in the park.
But the novelty is slowly wearing off doing stuff like that by myself.
I suppose I could try getting back on the apps. It’s been over a year since Brad and I broke up. Before him was Liam, and before him Rodrigo, and…
The pattern is depressingly familiar by now.
I know it’s me that’s the problem, so I can’t even really get mad when these guys have enough and leave.
Just because I’m aware that I hold myself back, though, apparently doesn’t mean I can stop doing it.
Brad was dropping so many hints about wanting to move in, maybe adopt a dog, things I really want in my life. And what did I do?
Give him the old ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech and sent him packing.
I genuinely believe he’s going to be better off with someone else because there’s something inside me that refused to give him what he needed. That’s always too afraid, too guarded to take that next step and trust someone enough to share my life with them.
Really share.
Not inviting them over after I’ve cleaned for three hours. Not hiding any real, messy feelings from them. Not weighing up every single little thing I say. To simply…exist with another human being.
Even just thinking about relaxing the grip I have on every aspect of my life makes my chest tighten, though. I close my eyes and focus on taking deep breaths, counting backward from ten. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m fine.
Because it’s only me I have to worry about.
It’s different at work. There are so many protocols in place to keep my team safe. I studied my ass off to pass the lieutenant’s exam, and I never let my guard down when I’m on the clock. Running a tight ship there brings me peace.
But whenever it becomes clear I’m about to become responsible for a boyfriend, the fear overwhelms me, and I have to bail.
I can’t risk failing anyone again. Not someone I love.
Every life I save when the One-Thirteen is out on call makes me feel like the world is slightly more balanced, one soul at a time. But when some days inevitably end tragically, I can console myself that I did everything in my power because I followed the rules.
There are no rules for dating. For becoming the custodian of someone else’s heart, their hopes, their dreams. There’s no review board to determine whether or not you did everything you could when another person gets hurt.
No one to stand up and say that an accident definitively wasn’t your fault so people can direct their grief elsewhere.
I sigh and scrub my face. These early morning melancholy sessions have been getting more frequent of late.
Maybe it’s because love seems to be in the air at the station recently.
Both Bell and Foster have met special someones, and Delacroix went and damn well got married to his childhood sweetheart over the summer.
And I’m really fucking happy for them, I swear. But sometimes seeing other people finding such joy can’t help but remind me what I’m holding myself back from.
I’ve got no one to blame other than my own stubborn sense of responsibility.
It makes me laugh as I rub my forehead, trying to fend off the headache I feel developing.
Am I really going to waste my morning moping?
Or am I going to make the most of my early start and head out for a run?
At least I’ll have a sense of accomplishment if I get five miles under my feet before most of my neighbors’ alarms go off.
I’ve always felt better when I’m productive.
If I’m still restless later, perhaps I’ll do some baking.
My squad never says no to homemade treats.
With a vague plan in place, I pull back the duvet and swing my legs over the side of the bed, sitting up on the verge of finally tackling the day.
Then my phone vibrates.
It’s so early, I wonder who might be trying to contact me. Even when I see it’s my buddy Adam I’m still confused. He might live in Switzerland these days where it’s nine hours ahead of California, but he would know it’s barely five in the morning here. Why’s he calling?
I won’t find out if I don’t answer, and seeing as I am awake, it would be silly not to. Besides, Adam Silverman has been my best friend since the first week of middle school way back when. Having just been ruminating on how sad and lonely my life feels right now, it feels like fate he should call.
“Hey, man,” I say cheerfully as I press the phone to my ear. “How’s it going?”
“Rico?” he cries, sounding alarmed. “You’re awake? Oh, thank god.”
I’m immediately on alert. “What’s wrong?”
“I took the kids swimming and my phone was off,” he says in a rush. “I literally just got the voicemail, and I don’t know what to do and I didn’t know who else to call! I thought about contacting the police, but I don’t think he’d like that. He’s probably in too much trouble already—”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” I tell him firmly. “Adam, what’s happening? How can I help?”
He takes a deep, shuddery breath, and I really should have guessed the next words that come out of his mouth.
There’s only one person who can unravel my best friend like this.
“It’s Jesse.”
For a second, I close my eyes and grit my teeth.
It’s funny, as I was just talking about Jesse Silverman’s train wreck of a life with the team the other week.
I’ve always had an inexplicable soft spot for the kid, and I do still think of him as Adam’s baby brother despite the fact he’s been a grown man for many years now.
But I really fucking hate how he can never, ever seem to get his shit together.
Adam worries about him constantly. Even living on the other side of the planet can’t stop it, apparently.
It’s not fair when he has a stressful job with long hours and two kids under seven to deal with already.
His wife works just as much as he does, but her patience for the youngest Silverman ran out long ago.
I should take a leaf out of her book, but here I am, heart in my mouth, anticipating what trouble Jesse’s gotten himself into this time.
Waiting to be told what I can do to help.
Adam’s like family to me. I was the best man at his wedding, for crying out loud, not Jesse.
He barely made it on time and was drunk before we even finished taking the photos.
But if Adam refuses to give up on his little brother, that means I can’t, either.
“Has he gotten arrested again?” I prompt when it becomes clear that Adam’s distress has hijacked his train of thought.
For the thousandth time, I curse his parents for being so blasé about the whole thing. He always turns to me rather than them, and I’m more than happy to give him whatever support he needs. But maybe if they weren’t so ambivalent, their sons wouldn’t be in this predicament.
The whole reason Jesse got into acting was because he was too much for the Silvermans to handle as a kid.
Then when he went off the rails, they understood him even less and just…
washed their hands of him. I don’t think they’re bad people.
I guess some parents simply aren’t made for out of the ordinary challenges.
I know a thing or two about that. It’s probably why Adam and I are still so close despite the six thousand miles between us.
“No, I don’t think he’s been arrested,” Adam says, sounding exhausted. “He left me this voice mail. Rico, he’s scared me. I think he might…I think this time he really might…”
A chill runs down my spine. “No, man. Don’t think like that. If you’re worried he’s in bad shape, you should call an ambulance. Get a welfare check on him.”
He makes an anguished sound. “He’s on such thin ice.
It’s a miracle I’ve been able to keep him out of jail this long.
I don’t want to get him in trouble if it’s nothing.
It would break him. It’d break me. I…I will call if necessary.
But I was wondering…shit, Rico, would I be a complete asshole if I asked you to go over to his place?
He’s in south LA these days, and I thought—”
“Consider it done,” I interrupt, already putting the call on speaker phone so I can start pulling out clean clothes from my closet and drawers. “Text me the address and I’ll head out immediately.”
I can hear his relief all the way from Europe. “Are you sure?” he asks weakly.
“One hundred percent,” I promise him as I get the shower running. Thirty seconds to freshen up hopefully won’t make too much of a difference. If I’m going to be hunting down wayward former child stars, I’d rather not start off sweaty.
I’d also love to grab some coffee, but that might be pushing my luck too far.
“Fuck, Rico, you’re the best. I hate putting this on you, but I don’t know what else to do. He just…”
The sentence hangs unfinished. I know Adam will always love his brother, no matter how many times he tries to throw his life away.
But he’s never asked me to intervene directly until now. I suppose he was always only a state away before, so would rush to LA whenever Jesse got in over his head. That’s not really an option nowadays.
I’m honored he would trust me to take on this responsibility in his place. Like when I’m at work, I have every confidence I can do this for him. It’s not like I have to deal with Jesse’s emotions, just his physical wellbeing. All I care about is helping Adam.
I don’t give a shit if I piss Jesse off or even if he likes me, so that makes it easier to shoulder this burden.
“I’ve got this,” I tell him, and I mean it. “I’ll keep you posted, okay? As soon as I know anything, I’ll call.”
Adam exhales. “If he’s just hungover, I’m going to kill him. But that message he left…”
Part of me wants to hear it to make my own assessment. But if it’s got Adam this rattled, I don’t really need to.
“Try not to worry,” I say, knowing it’s useless, but I still feel the need to say it anyway.
“I’ll do my best,” he replies with a hollow laugh. “Right, I better hang up and let you go. Thank you, man. I mean it.”
“That’s what friends are for,” I say sincerely before closing the call.
Five minutes later, I’m running out of my apartment door with a granola bar and a bottle of iced tea in lieu of the brunch I’d been half-heartedly contemplating before.
I know all too well from work how fast circumstances can change, so I’m able to keep my adrenaline in check as I kickstart my car and head for the interstate.
Still, it’s kind of crazy that an hour ago I had a long day of nothing much stretched ahead of me, and now I’m hitting the gas on a rescue mission.
Part of me is praying that Jesse has just stayed up too late partying and gotten in his feelings, kind of like I did.
But another part of me knows Adam can’t brush that kind of behavior off anymore. Where does it end? At what point do I start to encourage my friend to step away and protect himself and his own family first instead of always letting his pain-in-the-ass little brother swing in like a wrecking ball?
I’m almost past Newport when it occurs to me that I’m about to see Jesse Silverman in person for the first time in…
what? Ten years? More? I couldn’t help but watch that terrible reality show he did, but that doesn’t count.
The producers obviously edited the footage within an inch of its life and it’s no surprise that they made Jesse out to be the irresponsible, selfish bad guy.
But I remember that sweet kid who used to save my favorite candies from his Halloween bucket to give to me later because my parents didn’t believe in trick or treating.
The kid who once stubbornly walked all the way across town to the veterinarian with a wounded kitten bundled up in his arms. The kid who always tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal when his brother’s friends let him play their video games every once in a while, but I’d always see how shiny his eyes would get as he snuck awe-inspired glances at us.
I genuinely don’t know the asshole is who keeps my buddy up at night with worry. The selfish prick who’s extremely lucky never to have hurt anyone while driving under the influence. The irresponsible jerk who flushed hundreds of thousands of dollars down the drain after his acting career flatlined.
Chances are, I’m probably going to meet him in about thirty minutes, if he’s even home.
Adam seemed to think he was, but that might have just been a guess.
He could be in some drug den or on a park bench for all I know.
But if I do find him…if we do come face to face for the first time in over a decade…
who am I going to see? The arrogant Hollywood washout?
Or is the kind-hearted boy I once knew still inside him somewhere?
There’s only one way to find out, I suppose. I’m nervous, but I put that down to the responsibility I’ve got on my shoulders. I promised Adam that I’d take care of this, and I meant it. No matter what, I’m going to do everything I can to ease this burden for my friend.
Whether his brother likes it or not.