Chapter 19 #2
“What? She wanted to left alone. She doesn’t want to talk to us. I’m giving her what she asked for.” Decker shrugged before placing silverware next to the two plates and three glasses.
I clamped my teeth tight, shame burning through me. Decker was right—I said those words, but they were lies. Lies to protect myself from them—from the hurt I’d soon feel once this whole contract murder was over and we part ways.
Although, what I really wanted to do right now was to chuck my dish at Decker’s head. Then maybe I’d get my old Decker back. Since the plate belonged to his friend, I held on to it.
“Hey.” Krew nudged me with his arm. “Grab the garlic bread and the water, will yah?”
With reluctance, I juggled my plate, the bread and the water bottle, carried them to the table and positioned them close to where I was sitting. Krew placed the large bowl of spaghetti and meatballs in the middle of the table and sat down. I poured myself some water and passed the bottle to Krew.
Decker’s eyes narrowed, but the familiar smirk on his devilish face cut through my inner turmoil and I was able to relax. We each took our respective places at the table and began eating in silence.
The food was fantastic. I didn’t know Krew could cook. Looking back, my only real memories of the boys were of those lazy days hanging out at the Honey Pot near the reservoir. We talked and laughed the day away, swam at Lions Pool, or just drove around, happy to be together.
To rectify my mistake, I needed to stop fighting with them, and talk. Even be honest… to a point.
“Thanks for cooking, Krew. It’s delicious,” I said and dug into another meatball.
“You’re welcome.” Krew grinned. As he wiped sauce from a corner of his lickable lips, a flutter in my belly sent tingles along my skin.
Get a grip, Regi. Don’t look at them . My eyes dropped to my plate and breathed.
“So, Krew. I work in a salon. Decker’s a hitman, what do you do?” I asked and took a sip of the water. Decker snorted and my eyes shot to his face. “What’s your deal?”
“Nothing,” he said and shoveled in a forkful of pasta.
“No, I really want to know. You get pissed that I don’t talk, and when I do, you give me attitude.”
“Attitude?” Decker’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Okay. Here’s the truth. When we ask you to talk to us, you shut up like a clam—you don’t let us in. When you want to talk about our lives, it’s okay.” Decker’s knuckles on his right hand were turning white from gripping the fork so tightly.
He was right. Again. If he knew why I didn’t want to talk about my past, why the blood I’d seen on him affected me, then we would be having a different conversation that would ultimately shatter my soul. Especially once I saw the disgust in their eyes.
“Shut up and eat your food,” Krew cut in, his eyes on me.
Decker grunted and refocused on his plate of food. He wasn’t eating it, just stared at it with honed concentration.
“I’m between jobs. But I want to tattoo. That’s my passion. Been working on it for a while now—as you can see on my skin,” he said with his arms wide.
I took in every image on his flesh. Black and grey to colored. Individually, they didn’t tell a story, but looking at them as a whole book, his skin was an epic saga.
“I like them. Maybe one day, I’ll get one,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Just let me know, and I’ll do it.”
I felt heat creep into my cheeks, at the idea of Krew marking me with his ink, and quickly changed the topic. “How did you get into fighting?”
“I started seriously fighting while I was at Chillicothe Correctional. I had to learn to protect myself from the moment I was sent there,” Krew confessed easily, as though he was talking about a walk he had taken in a park.
I dropped my fork, and almost choked on the bite of meatball. “What?”
Decker chuckled. But there was no joy in it. “You didn’t know he went to jail after we were captured that night?”
“Neither did you,” Krew shot back at Decker.
I shook my head, afraid if I opened my mouth, I was going to vomit all over the table.
Jail. Krew in jail. My sweet Krew who never hurt a fly had to fight to protect himself. Oh, God.
“You have no clue that my father pulled some strings and gave me two choices—either go to jail or enlist in the military?” Decker added to the insult, completely destroying my perception of how they had lived their lives after I’d fled from Elida.
“Again, you didn’t know either, Deck,” Krew huffed out.
“Because I thought you were going to juvie—not jail.”
“I went to both,” Krew said flatly, stood from the table and picked up his plate. “It doesn’t matter anyway. That’s the past.”
“It does matter, damn it. Teke should have been in jail for what he did,” Decker railed as he slammed his fist on the table and the dishes rattled.
The realization that I wasn’t the only one who was affected by that monster’s choices hit dead center of my chest.
“No,” I croaked, but I couldn’t look away from Decker.
The corner of Decker’s lips dipped further down and he shook his head. “Neither of us had a choice when we got caught by the cops that night, Regi. But you did. Now tell us, why did you run from Elida—from us? Why didn’t you keep in touch—at least with Krew?”
I swallowed hard, afraid I’d blurt out the truth about what had happened that night. My throat hurt, as if an invisible noose had been drawn tight around my neck, and I could hardly take a breath.
I grabbed my glass of water and managed to drink the entirety to ease the strain, but the cold liquid didn’t help. “I didn’t know what happened. Maya?—”
“Fucking Maya,” Decker spat out. “That bitch has done more damage than—Fuck!” He shot out of his chair and began pacing.
“Maya didn’t tell you that she used to come visit me every weekend? Bring me things?” Krew questioned, his eyes wide with surprise.
It took everything in me to not scream. I wanted to track down my ex-friend and beat the crap out of her. Not only had she put me and Krew in this precarious dilemma, she had been lying to me for all these years about my guys.
“Did you know that, in school, she used to proposition us behind your back?” Krew landed another blow, and it felt physical, like his confession had literally punched a hole in my stomach.
“No,” I uttered, my eyes brimming with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me back then?”
“Would you have listened? She was your best friend, after all—really, the only one you hung out with, besides us,” Krew explained as he reached out and tried to take my hand. And I let him. “Regi, I promise you that we never did anything with her.”
“You got that right. She was the carnival ride that everyone got on, except Krew and me. We stayed away from that stanky cunt,” Decker grated out. “I need to get the hell out of here—check the perimeter.” Without another word, Decker took off, leaving me with Krew.
I didn’t know what to do. To think that all this time, Maya knew what had happened to Decker and Krew, and she’d hidden their fates from me.
That whole time in school, she had kept insisting that hanging out with the guys made me look like a whore.
And that I should have asked her to come with us to the Honey Pot, to where Decker, Krew and I hung out without any of our classmates causing trouble for us—especially toward Krew.
She had sworn on a stack of Bibles, that, as my best friend, she was saving my virtue and reputation. When, in reality, the whole time, she had used me. She had wanted Krew and Decker.
Maya used me then, as she was using me now. I sat there silent and numb as the truth fully hit me.
I then turned to Krew. “Please, hold me.”