Chapter 75
Seventy-Five
Remy relapses.
Sherry, swayed by Remy collecting his ninety-day sobriety chip, bought into his bullshit when he charmed the car keys out of her and offered to drive into town to buy the small list of groceries tacked to the refrigerator.
He’d stated he wanted to do “normal shit a grown man does” instead of feeling like “a coddled child.”
It’s possible he said that with good intentions.
But unlikely.
And Sherry hasn’t known Remy long enough to grasp he’s slicker than an eel greased with Hawaiian Tropic.
A few days later, we were onto him. His need to “take a walk”—always by himself—coupled with extended disappearances into the bathroom and slightly drooping eyelids all revealed he’d scored weed on that trip to town, along with a bottle of vodka.
The latter he stashed in the toilet tank, a trick even I’d heard about accompanying him to AA meetings.
I never said he was smart. Just fucking wily.
And he’s still my problem.