Chapter 25 #2
“I don’t care about a lot of things,” he snickers. “Which specific thing are you talking about?”
“About Banks! He was your friend, Lix, and you wear scars on your skin because of him. But you act like it doesn’t matter to you.”
“I wear scars for just about everyone in my life. It’s just skin. It doesn’t matter to me.” Mwah. “I still go to bed every night with my wife curled against my chest and my baby girl tucked into a tiny crib beside us.”
“Lix—”
“I wake up every morning to the sound of Zo’s cooing and the stench of her shit-filled diaper.
” He exhales a soft chuckle. “When I’m lucky, I wake to Christabelle doing things to my body, but I’m not allowed to say what those things are, ‘cos she said it’s inappropriate and that I need to work on censoring the impulsive side of my brain sometimes. ”
“But—”
“I’m happy, Arch. I’m so fucking happy, it’s terrifying.
My main stressors these days aren’t Cordoza dying or Mayet whacking folks on the side, or you and me fighting, or me having to tweak my schedule so Stovic can take time off to be with his momma now that you went and snitched and told me things he didn’t want me to know.
My biggest stress is waiting for the other shoe to drop, and all my happy things being taken away.
But worrying about things that haven’t even happened is kinda dumb, so I’m trying not to do that, either.
” Mwah. “Isn’t she the sweetest thing you ever heard? ”
“He fucked you over, Felix! Banks sold you down the river, and you caught Dad’s wrath for it. You don’t even care?”
“I caught his wrath when you took off to Copeland, too.”
He says it so calmly. So easily. So fucking devastatingly.
“I wear scars on my body ‘cos you took off, Arch. ‘Cos you dipped and Dad was pissed about it. I’m not mad, though.” He continues to kiss his daughter and bathe us both in the sound of her giggles.
“He was a piece of shit, and my baby brother wanting away from that was a cause I could get behind. Drake used to catch black eyes from his old man almost as often as we did. Different dudes, different methods, but half the reason he and I clicked back then was because of our shared hatred for the men who put us here.”
“He lied! He was a badge.”
“Eh. I wear his scars. He wears some of mine. We both made it out the other side, and now we get to live our lives the way we choose. I met my darling Christabelle. He met that stubborn girl who, last I heard, wants to work for Mayet, which tells me everything I need to know about her. Banks is set for a lifetime of wanting to rip his hair out ‘cos she won’t sit down and do as she’s told, and he’s gonna spend the next eighty years perpetually horny because defiance is sexy when these women do that smirky smirk and those come-hither eyes they do.
ZoZo, say hi to Uncle Arch.” He turns his voice into a ridiculous babble.
A tone I’m not sure I ever could’ve predicted would come from his mouth.
“ZoZo, Uncle Arch is on the phone. He says he loves you.”
Mwah.
“Why are you mad at him, anyway? He fuck your girl?”
“Drake? No!”
“He point a gun and shoot you himself?”
“No.”
“So…” He trails off. “I dunno, Arch. Help me out here. What did Special Agent Fuckface do to earn your wrath?”
“He… you…” I pinch the bridge of my nose and groan. “He fucked you over.”
“You’re pissed at him on my behalf?” He barks out a laugh. “You’re a sweet kid, Archy Boy. I always knew you were one of my favorites.”
“Don’t fucking mock me! Loyalty matters, dipshit. Honesty matters.”
“Your anger kinda reminds me of how Mia’s mad at the mayor over there,” he snickers. “She’s cranky on Minka’s behalf. On Fifi’s behalf. But not even because of a crime he committed against her personally. You wanna kick Drake in the shins, Arch?”
An impatient growl rolls audibly along my throat.
“Wind it back and get him good,” he giggles.
“Swing twice, ‘cos I had this pair of sweet Air Jordans back then.
They were white with the red trim, cost a bomb and comfy as hell.
He always liked ‘em, I could tell, ‘cos he was always looking at them. You asked to shoot some hoops this one time, you remember that?”
“I asked?”
“Mm.” Mwah. “Dad was away from the house, probably out buying his next victim or some shit. You wanted to play ball, and I was being a bit of a prick the way big brothers sometimes are. I told you to fuck off, but Drake said it was cool. He wanted to shoot hoops, too. I let him try on my Jordans that day, which turned into him wearing them while we tossed the ball around. This motherfucker scuffed my shoes, Arch! Tore a whole chunk of rubber off the side. If you wanna get mad at him on my behalf, get mad about the shoes. In fact,” his voice rises with anger.
“Get that bastard on the phone right now. Doesn’t he know who the fuck I am? ”
I shake my head and drag my palm across my face. “You’re ridiculous, Felix. I swear.”
“You’ve gone and pissed me off,” he snaps back.
“I liked those shoes, and that fucker called me out back then for being a dick to you, so then I figured I’d make it up to you both.
Bounce a ball with you, let him wear the shoes.
Even Micah played, which was kind of a big deal, considering Dad folded his thumb back out of its socket the day before. You remember that?”
“Yeah.” I drop my hand and exhale a noisy breath. “I remember that.”
“Pretty sure Drake took a little heat for that, too.” The anger in his voice peters out to a sigh.
“Daddy Tim was pissed at Brother Tim. He damn near snapped his neck that day, till Micah stepped in and took some of the focus.
T2 dropped T3, turned to Micah and fucked his hand up, then Drake jumped in, ‘cos I was already pissing blood, and you were looking for the guns. “His end of the line falls silent for a moment, all except for Zora’s babbling happiness. “He was one of us, Arch. Maybe not by blood, and maybe he was telling lies sometimes, but his blood still ran red, just like ours did. He still limped when Tim lost his temper, just like we did. He stepped in front of us just as often as we stepped in front of him. That wasn’t the badge… it was a kid who chose honor and loyalty over the job, and when he came back to the house the day after that bullshit, he had a black eye too. But it wasn’t ‘cos of our old man.”
“E-excuse me?”
I swing my gaze around and stop on the dejected stare of a girl afraid.
Her wringing hands. Her long hair tied back in a messy ponytail.
Expensive branded clothes wrap around a body too insecure to carry them.
She gulps heavily enough that the movement is audible.
Then she licks her lips and stares up at me through red-rimmed eyes. “Detective Malone?”
“Yikes. She sounds like a baby, Arch. Who is that?”
“I’ll talk to you later.” I drag the phone from my ear and end our call, then I turn and study Tara Prim. “Hi. Are you alright?”
She wipes her nose with a shaking hand and exhales a shuddering breath. “Y-you said to call if we had any information.” She looks along the street, then up at the multi-story station at my back. “Is it true I’m not allowed to speak to you, because I’m not eighteen yet?”
I slip my phone into my pocket, then both of my hands. “How do you mean?”
“Like… My mom said that because I’m not an adult, the police can’t legally question me. But I turn eighteen in a couple of months, so maybe—”
“You can talk to me anytime you like. You’re old enough to consent, Tara, but you’re also well within your rights to ask for your mom or your dad to sit with us, too.”
She shakes her head viciously from side to side.
“Or a lawyer,” I suggest. “Or a friend, or a representative the city will assign you.” I back up a single step and gesture toward the door.
“You wanna come inside out of the heat? You can still choose not to talk to me if you don’t want to.
Or, if you start talking to me and change your mind halfway through, you can stop, and that would be okay, too. I won’t get angry or anything.”
Her entire frame shudders. Her jaw trembles. Her eyes are shifty. But she finds a pocket of bravery and starts toward the door. “I need to confess something, Detective. Josey would do the right thing if this were reversed. She would always stand up and be brave to help others.”
“Confess?” Surprise beats in my veins as I follow her in and step gingerly onto the escalator. “Alright, well… why don’t we find ourselves somewhere to sit, then I could probably get you a soda or something. Then we can talk.”
“A-are you going to arrest me?”
Fuckkkk me. Say it isn’t so. “Do you think I need to arrest you?”
She stands two steps ahead of me, elevated because of the angle of the escalator, so she twists and reveals fresh, fat tears dribbling along her cheeks.
“Maybe. I told a lie when you asked if I knew what happened to Josey.” Her breath comes out on a crackling rasp.
“Lying to the police during a homicide investigation is a crime.”