Chapter 24 Johnny/Pulsewave
Chapter twenty-four
Johnny/Pulsewave
The true crime documentary had devolved into a dramatic reenactment featuring bad wigs and worse acting.
The narrator sounded like he was reading a eulogy for the entire human race.
I let my head fall back against the couch, feeling the leather on my neck.
The pillow in my hands had a tear near the seam where stuffing peeked out like guts from a half-assed stab wound.
Fitting.
Mandie shifted beside me. Her black nail polish was chipped at the edges, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against her arm. The tattoos there twisted as her muscles flexed. My favorite was also her favorite. A serpent coiled around a dagger, a city skyline half-swallowed by flames.
She wasn’t watching the screen. She was watching me watch the screen. She knew exactly where my head was at.
On the TV, the killer had graduated from robbing gas stations to hitting banks before finally settling into a career as a contract killer. The parallels were lazy, but they existed. I used to be a bank robber. I used to be an armored car thief. But I was never a killer.
With this group, especially Mandie, it always felt like a coin toss whether they saw me as a hero or a villain.
I was the black sheep in a family of wolves. And I was starting to realize that dye doesn’t wash out.
Roger swirled his drink, taking a slow, deliberate sip. "You see anyone on this show you recognize, Johnny? That carjacker looks a hell of a lot like someone from your old neighborhood." He laughed.
I knew he didn't mean to draw blood, but God, I hated having my rap sheet put on display like a museum exhibit.
I rolled my eyes, keeping my voice light. "Oh, yeah, I recognize him. Looks just like a guy I saw leaving Sebastian's office last week."
Sebastian had been pretending to read a file, but he looked up and shot me a glare that could’ve peeled paint. "At least my patient is making an effort."
"Debatable," I muttered.
Matt had been leaning against the counter with his arms crossed like a human barricade. He finally pushed off. The floorboards groaned under his weight as he stalked toward the couch.
"You’re both full of shit." His voice was rough gravel. Probably from too many years of barking orders and not enough sleep. "We’ve got bigger problems than measuring dicks in the living room."
Roger snorted. "Relax, big guy. We’re just messing around. Get a sense of humor."
"Enough."
Mandie’s voice cut through the noise like a sharp, clean blade. She didn’t raise it because she didn’t have to. The room went quiet. It was the kind of silence that hums in your teeth.
Donovan had been so still in the corner I’d almost forgotten he was there.
He flinched at the tone. His fingers tangled in the drawstrings of his hoodie, twisting them into white-knuckled knots.
Gray eyes flicked toward the door, then back to his lap.
The kid had the presence of a shadow that had just realized it was supposed to be attached to something.
Sebastian exhaled through his nose, adjusting his cuffs like he was realigning the universe. "Maybe we should change the channel. Perhaps a comedy."
"We’d still find a way to argue about it," I said. I tossed the pillow onto the coffee table. "This is what we do. We bicker. We snap. We pretend we’re not all one bad day away from setting this whole place on fire and walking out," I gestured vaguely at the room.
The Keystone wasn't a home. It was a glorified bomb shelter for the morally flexible.
Mandie’s fingers stilled on her arm. "You’re in a mood."
"Just because I used to rob banks with my dad doesn't mean I'm anything like these sociopaths on TV."
"Hey, man." Roger’s smile faltered. "No one thinks that. We were just joking."
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring him down. "No one said it. But you’re all thinking it. I’m just the guy dumb enough to say it out loud."
Silence settled into the room. Heavy. Cold. No one looked at each other. No one moved.
No one denied it.
Mandie didn’t move at first. Just sat there, thigh still pressed against mine, the heat of her skin the only thing keeping me from bolting. Finally, she exhaled, a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh but wasn’t exactly disappointment either.
"Christ," she muttered. "You guys are supposed to be a team."
No one responded. Didn’t need to.
She leaned forward, grabbing the half-empty bottle of wine from the coffee table. The amber liquid sloshed as she poured a finger into her glass, then another. She took a slow sip, eyes sweeping the room, daring anyone to speak. When no one did, she set the glass down with a deliberate click.
"Alright," she said, voice low but carrying. "Since we’re all so eager to sit in our own shit, how about we play a game?"
Roger blinked. "Game? I like the sound of that."
She glared at him. "Not that kind of game." She turned, shoulder brushing mine. Not an accident. "Never Have I Ever."
Sebastian’s eyebrows lifted. "That’s a drinking game."
"And?" Mandie tilted her head, a challenge in her hazel eyes. "You got a problem with drinking, Doc?"
"Not at all," he said smoothly, though his fingers stilled on his file. "But I fail to see how this addresses the current… tension. Alcohol rarely solves problems."
Mandie smirked. "Speak for yourself. This will either get us all drunk enough to stop being dicks, or we’ll actually learn something about each other." She glanced at me for a split second. "Your call, geniuses."
A beat of silence. Then Roger grinned, raising his glass of rum. "I’m in."
Matt grunted but didn’t say no. Donovan just nodded. Sebastian sighed, looking like he was indulging a room full of toddlers, but set his file aside.
That left me.
I crossed my arms. "You guys play. I’m taking a nap."
Mandie’s gaze locked onto mine. "You can't run from the team, Johnny. You can't outrun us any more than you can outrun your past. So, sit down."
Something hot and ugly twisted in my chest. I wanted to snap back, to tell her she didn’t know shit, but the way she was looking at me, like she did know, made the words die in my throat.
"Fine," I muttered.
She didn’t push it. She just nodded and turned back to the group. "To make things interesting, we’ll stick to a theme. True crime."
"Is that wise?" Sebastian asked. "Considering the earlier argument?"
"I think it's perfect," Mandie said, almost winking. She and the doc exchanged a look. It was a quick, silent communication I couldn't decipher.
"Rules are simple. Someone says, ‘Never have I ever,’ followed by something they haven’t done. If you have done it, you drink. If you haven’t, you don’t." She picked up her glass. "I’ll go first."
A pause. The kind that meant she was about to drop something heavy.
"Never have I ever," she said steadily, "been a serial killer."
No one drank. I set my glass down hard to make sure everyone noticed.
“See? Easy peasy.” Mandie pointed a finger at Donovan. "Your turn."
Donovan swallowed. "Never have I ever… been arrested for assault."
Silence.
Roger barked a laugh. "I am not getting drunk off this game."
Sebastian and Donovan stayed still.
Matt took a drink.
Mandie’s lips curled, but it wasn’t a smile. "Johnny?"
I stared at her. She knew. Of course, she knew. The fights, the brawls, the times my dad had to bail me out before I was old enough to shave. My fingers dug into my arms. "Yeah," I said roughly. "I have. I was fifteen, and I didn’t have my full speed yet."
She didn't react. Just nodded, like she expected it. Then she took a drink.
Roger’s grin faltered. "Wait, seriously?"
She shot him a look. "What, you think I just look angry for fun? There was Crystal in tenth grade. Beat the hell out of her. Misty, senior year, should’ve hit her harder. And my foster dad on my seventeenth birthday. I should have killed him."
"What the fuck?" Matt grunted, surprised.
"Hey, you took a sip too," she pointed out.
"Punched a cop who was sleeping with my wife," Matt said flatly.
I was shocked. I knew about Matt, but I had no idea Mandie had that kind of violence in her history. Assault? Shit.
"Your turn," Mandie said. "Doc. Hit us."
Sebastian exhaled, then set his glass down. "Never have I ever," he said, each word precise, "stolen something from a loved one."
Matt didn’t hesitate. He downed his drink. Roger and Donovan held tight. My jaw tightened.
"I would never steal from someone I care about," I said, putting my glass down.
Mandie took a sip. "Dated a guy in college. Drug dealer, wannabe rockstar. I thought he was the love of my life. Then I found out he was cheating on me. I ran off with his stash and gave it to the working girls down the street."
"Who are you?" Roger asked, half-serious.
It was Matt's turn. "Never have I ever," he rumbled, "run away from home."
Donovan’s head snapped up. Knuckles went white. He took a drink.
Roger drank too. "Once," he admitted. "Junior year. Lasted three days before my dad’s credit card got declined."
Doc shook his head. Mandie and I both drank.
Her eyes were on me, heavy, knowing. "Your turn, Johnny."
I wanted to refuse. I wanted to tell her to go to hell. But the challenge in her eyes made my skin itch.
"Never have I ever," I said, voice low, "stolen something I didn’t need."
Roger took a sip. "Frat house phase," he muttered. "Toilet paper. A stop sign. The dean’s tie."
Matt drank. He didn’t explain. Donovan shook his head, cheeks pink.
Sebastian hesitated, then sipped. "A pen. From the university. It was a very nice one."
Mandie didn’t drink.
I stared at her. "Finally. A crime you haven’t committed."
She held my gaze. "Oh, I’ve stolen plenty. But it was always something I needed, even the big stuff."
"What kind of big stuff?"
"A car."
"Bullshit," Roger said.
"True story. Ask Sebastian. He has my file." Mandie pointed a thumb at him.
We all turned to the doc.
"The boss gave it to me when she arrived," Sebastian confirmed quietly.
Mandie took a breath. "I had to steal that car. My foster dad was going to rape me. I couldn't outrun him on foot. I jumped in his car and drove until I found a phone."
The silence in the room changed. It wasn't awkward anymore; it was suffocating. She’d stolen because she had to. Survival.
“It isn’t much different from you. The way you were raised, what your dad put you through, you were doing what you had to do to make him happy.”
Shocked she understood me, young me, how a kid could do bad things but somehow, still be good.
"Your turn, Donovan," she said.
He flinched, looking like he’d forgotten where he was. "So, this might surprise you guys, since I am a bit of an introvert. I honestly like people and being near people. Never have I ever wanted to disappear."
Everyone took a drink except for Donovan.
Mandie’s gaze flicked over us, lingering on me the longest. Then she leaned back, crossing her arms. "We’re a real fucked-up bunch, aren’t we?"
No one argued.
She grabbed the bottle, topping off her glass. "Never have I ever," she said, voice quiet but piercing, "had to choose between the people I love and doing the right thing."
The air left the room.
Roger’s glass trembled. He didn’t drink.
Sebastian’s face went blank. He didn’t drink.
Matt’s jaw clenched. He didn’t drink.
Donovan shook his head, eyes wide.
I didn't drink either.
She watched me, hazel eyes dark.
"One last one," she announced. "Never have I ever… had superpowers."
Everyone eased up and smiled. We all raised our glasses and drank. Everyone, except Mandie.
She set her empty glass down. The room was silent, but for the first time since I’d walked into the Keystone, I didn’t feel like a monster.
Mandie leaned in and kissed me. Brief, soft. She started to pull away, but I caught her, pulling her back just an inch to whisper in her ear.
"Thank you."