I widened my eyes. “Because you’re my friend and I love you,” I told him.
Brooks shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “You just don’t get it. I love you, too, Aubrey. So much,” he said, his voice cracking.
“I know you do, Brooks—”
“No, Aubrey, you don’t get it. I love you. I’m talking a give-you-a-kidney-if-you-needed-one kind of love here. It’s an elope-to-Vegas-tomorrow-and-love-you-for-the-rest-of-my-life kind of thing.” Brooks laughed, but he looked like he was in pain.
I thought I might throw up.
This is not how I pictured this conversation going at all. Though I should have guessed.
I remembered how desperately I had thrown myself at him only a month before. What had I expected him to feel after I had been playing with his emotions to make myself feel better?
Next time you kiss me, mean it, he had told me.
I was such a jerk.
“Brooks—” I started, but he held his hand up, stopping me.
“Yeah, so I never thought I’d be telling you this after you just finished telling me you were in love with another dude. It definitely sucks. But I just needed you to see you have options. That you have me.”
Brooks got to his feet and gathered his bags, leaving the food he had brought with him.
“Where are you going?” I asked, feeling a little panicky. I didn’t know where this whole I love you thing was going to leave us. This felt so much worse than when we had stopped talking the last time.
That had been done out of anger. This time he was leaving because of rejection.
My rejection.
Because I couldn’t return his sentiment, and he knew that.
“I’m thinking hanging out would be a little weird and I kind of have to process the fact that I just confessed to my best friend that I’m ridiculously in love with her.” Brooks gave me a sad half smile.
“You don’t have to go . . .” I began.
“Yes I do. Because you love Maxx. You’re with him. And I can’t be a silent, supportive friend about that right now. Maybe one day I can, but it will take me some time. Please be cool with that, Aubrey.”
I followed him to the door, wanting to reach out and stop him. But I couldn’t touch him. Not now. Not after his confession and my realization that I had brought this entire thing on myself by being completely inconsiderate of his feelings.
“Does this mean we’re not friends anymore?” I asked, sounding small.
Brooks turned around and looked at me, his eyes unreadable. And then he hugged me. A tight, chest-to-chest, folding-me-into-his-body hug. I could hear his heartbeat beneath my ear.
When he pulled away, I felt alone. “I’ll always be your friend, Aubrey. I love you too much to ever push you out of my life again. It hurts more to not talk to you than it does to have you love someone else. I just have to deal with the fact that I may have made a complete jackass of myself here tonight.” He laughed again, this time a little lighter.
“You’re not a jackass, Brooks. You’re amazing, and I have never deserved your loyalty,” I told him, meaning it.
Brooks mussed my hair in a platonic gesture. “Yes you do, Aubrey. You deserve the world.” He cleared his throat, and his smile was a bit more natural this time. “Save me some chicken korma. I’ll eat it next time I come over.”
“Okay,” I said quietly, watching him leave.
chapter
twenty-six
maxx
hitting rock bottom was easy.
It’s the climbing back up that I was finding to be near impossible.
My life had made so much sense back when I could take a few pills and pretend that the stuff that I really had to worry about—school, Landon, paying bills—didn’t matter.
Because when life got tough I had the best friend in the world to make it all better.
And she was always there when I needed her.
I missed her.
The drugs.
Even now when I was trying to live the right sort of life, I found that when I went to sleep at night it was with the memory of her taste in my mouth.
But when I woke up, the first thing I saw was Aubrey’s face in my mind, and that helped me get out of bed and walk through the rest of my day, firm in the knowledge that I was better off without her. The pills.
But then the night would come and I’d miss her all over again.
And it wasn’t just the drugs and the high. It was the club. And the euphoric sense of power that came from being X. I missed Compulsion. I missed knowing I mattered and that I was important.
But now I had Aubrey. And Landon, whose icy demeanor was gradually thawing. And my art that was slowly evolving into a real passion. I still stung from the knowledge that I might never be able to make money off it the way I wanted to. But I loved it for what it was: the only escape I could count on right now, when I had denied myself the one I really wanted.
That had to be enough for me now. And it was. In my heart I knew that. But in the dark hours before sleep, the vicious hunger was my only company and I wanted so much more.
“How’s school going?” I asked Landon on our now daily phone call. For the first few weeks, my brother had been distant. Even after we had made headway during my visit, I knew he was purposefully keeping me at arm’s length.
However, I was persistent. It was one of my better qualities, actually. And even though giving him space may have been the more considerate thing to do, I couldn’t sit back and wait for him to come around.
So I had pestered. I had bothered. I hadn’t let up in the slightest. It was my vow after leaving rehab to not allow either Landon or Aubrey to slip out of my life again.
I had called my brother every day until he answered and begrudgingly spoke to me. It was still uncomfortable, but we were getting there.
“Not bad. Trying to finish up my end-of-the-year art project,” Landon answered vaguely. I could hear him banging around in the background and tried not to get frustrated by his lack of engagement.
“Oh yeah? What’s your project on?” I asked, pulling details out of my brother the way I could imagine pulling teeth. Slowly and painfully.
“You know. Art stuff,” Landon said. There was a muffled sound, and I could hear Landon speaking to someone on the other end.
“Why don’t you explain the art stuff then,” I said through gritted teeth. I loved my brother. But his teenage resentment, even if it was totally deserved, was frustrating.
“Just some three-dimensional piece I have to work on. Look, I’ve got to go. I’m hanging out with some friends. I’ll call you later,” Landon said distractedly.
“Sure, Lan. But I’d really like to see you this week. Maybe we could grab something to eat. I’ll even take you to that pizza place you get such a hard-on for,” I joked, forcing a laugh.
Landon snorted. “No, you’re the one that gets a chubby for the Hawaiian. Don’t put that on me.”
I chuckled. “Whatever, man,” I muttered.
“Okay, yeah, that sounds good. Maybe Friday. You’re paying, though,” Landon said, and while he still sounded distant, I knew that he, like me, was trying in the only way that he could.
“Friday it is. I’ll swing by and get you after school. We can go by the mall and get you that new Xbox controller I owe you.” I was clutching desperately, but I’d say and do just about anything to get my brother to stop looking at me like I was a failure.
“It’s about time,” Landon said. “I’ve been collecting interest, and I think you owe me a game or two as well.”
I laughed again, though this time it was strained. I had broken Landon’s game controller months ago in a freak Call of Duty accident. I pulled out my wallet and opened it. I could almost imagine flies buzzing around its vacant emptiness. I was broke, but I’d scrounge up the money somehow if it meant spending time with Landon.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, though sounding a lot less enthusiastic than I had before.
&nbs
p; “Okay, Maxx, I’ll see you Friday after school. Later.”
I dropped my phone onto the table and stared down at my empty wallet. I’d get paid on Friday, but my coffee shop wages were barely covering my electric bill. I was a month behind in my rent, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my skeevy landlord would be handing me an eviction notice. I had whittled away the last of my savings, and I was living off fumes by this point.
As if on cue, there was a pounding from the front of my apartment. “Hey, we need to talk,” Marco said, pushing past me. I clenched my teeth.
“I thought we were done talking,” I said, closing the door.
Marco headed into the kitchen and began to open up the cupboards. “You need to go shopping, there ain’t crap to eat in here,” he said, slamming the doors closed. He grabbed a stale bag of chips from the counter and started stuffing his face.
“Why the fuck are you here, Marco? If you’re not going to give me grief, then I can’t think we have anything to say to each other,” I said shortly.
“Damn, when did I become your public enemy number one? You and me have always been tight. Now I’m starting to feel like a stalky ex-bitch trying to get you to call me back. That stuff don’t fly with me.” Marco spoke around a mouthful of chips. Dude had zero manners. It was disgusting.
“Chew with your goddamned mouth closed, you’re grossing me out.” I narrowed my eyes at him, wary and on guard.
“So, we had the club at the industrial complex on Delany last weekend,” he said suddenly, changing the subject completely.
“Okay. So?” I asked, not getting his point.
“What do you think of the location?”
I thought about the place he was talking about and shrugged. “It seems way too obvious for one. Too out in the open. Did the police show up?” I had to ask.
Marco upended the chip bag into his mouth and chewed noisily. “Yep, around midnight. A bunch of people got busted for possession, and Eric got caught fucking an underage chick in one of the back rooms. Gash is pissed.”
I wasn’t surprised in the least. I knew the location was a bad one. Too public.
“Who was the scout, and is he still breathing?” I chuckled, knowing all too well how Gash would respond to that sort of screwup.
“It was some newbie that Gash brought in. I think the guy was attached to one of his side ventures. Not a whole lot of brains obviously. As for the breathing part, I really don’t give enough of a shit to find out.” Marco crunched the bag in his hand and threw it toward the trash can, missing it completely. Of course he didn’t bother to pick it up.
“Sucks for Gash,” I said unsympathetically.
“Well, what do you think about coming back?”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Marco was one dense fucker. “I’m not slinging that shit—”
“Yeah, yeah, heard you loud and clear. I’m talking about coming back as a scout. Gash knows you’re the best. He’s willing to pay you pretty well to do it, too. A lot more than you were making before.” Marco sniffed and gave my sad apartment a disgusted look. “And it looks like you could use the extra scratch. This place is depressing.”
I opened my mouth to shoot down the offer but stopped.
Because the idea was really tempting.
“Come on, Gash isn’t asking you to dirty your pretty little hands. Just find the location. Maybe show up every now and then and just be your badass self, dude. Compulsion is your playground, man, you know you miss it,” Marco said with a smirk.
“I don’t know,” I said slowly, knowing the offer was almost too easy. Too perfect. There had to be a catch. There always was with Gash.
“How about this. I have to go out and find a spot tonight. Right now, actually. Why don’t you come with me? You’ve always had a better eye for the shady shit than I did. It’ll be like old times.” Marco pulled his keys out of his pocket and nodded his head toward the door.
Just like old times.
What could it hurt?
It’s not like I was going to the club. I wasn’t going to put myself back into a situation that could trigger me.
So why not?
I looked down at the newspaper on the coffee table opened to the want ads.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Gash is going to be stoked,” Marco said with a grin as we pulled away from an old mill on the outskirts of town. It was a spot I had found months ago but knew instantly it was perfect for the club. It was out of the way. It was quiet. And best of all, it was far away from the police.
Gash would love it.
“Yeah, well, you just have to know where to look for these places,” I said noncommittally. The truth was that I had enjoyed doing this small thing that had once been a part of my life.
Though it made me crave more than I should. More than was good for me.
“So why don’t you come back? Just to do the scouting thing. You don’t need to do the other stuff unless you want to,” Marco proposed, beating the subject to death. He had repeated this same sentiment at least a dozen times in the two short hours it took us to find the spot for Compulsion. He should have recorded himself so he’d stop wasting his damn breath.
“God, you’re like a fucking broken record, Polo,” I moaned, hating to admit how appealing his suggestion was.
I already found myself justifying it in every way that I could.
I need the money.
It’s better than drudging it at a crappy minimum-wage job.
I don’t have to even go to the club. I wouldn’t be putting myself back in a position where I’d be tempted to do anything like what had gotten me into trouble before.
Marco sensed my hesitation and grinned, knowing he had me. He must have been happy with my lack of denial, because he didn’t threaten to make me swallow my teeth for using my patented piss-off-Marco nickname.
“Yeah, but you want to do it. I just don’t see what the big fucking deal is. You’ve done a total one eighty and it makes no sense. You want to finally tell me what happened? What made you go all straight edge?” he asked me, parking in front of the convenience store where I lived.
Yeah, like that was going to happen.
“Maybe I’m just sick of playing skeevy douche bag,” I told him.
Marco snorted. “But you’re the fucking king of skeevy douche bags, dude.”
“You really are asking for my fist to make nice with your face,” I said.
“Whatever. I’ll come by next week and bring you your cash. Then we can do this all over again. Should be a blast,” Marco said, then made a high-pitched squeal.
“I haven’t said I’ll do it,” I pointed out.
“You haven’t said you won’t either,” Marco threw back.
I felt it. That moment when I started to move backward was almost imperceptible, but it was there all the same. I felt almost powerless to stop it.
“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed finally.
“Cool, man. It’ll be good to have you back,” he said, and he sounded like he actually meant it.
“Sure,” I responded, and knew that deep down I agreed with him.
I walked back up to my apartment and picked up the letters that had been delivered through the mail slot. Bills. And more bills. In a sudden flash of rage I crumpled them into a ball and tossed them across the room. I sat down on the couch and turned on the television, only to find static. I tried to flip the channel, but they were all the same.
I figured that somewhere in that pile of overdue notices was my cable bill. Unpaid.
I turned off the television and threw the remote against the wall. I watched with satisfaction as it smashed into pieces, the batteries rolling across the floor.
I picked up the newspaper I had left on the coffee table. There was nothing there. Nothing for a guy with limited work experience and no college degree. Even with the financial aid I had scraped together to cover the rest of my classes, I’d still be short to cover the total cost. I was getting really tired of worrying about money an
d whether I’d be forced to eat ramen for the fifth night in a row. Or whether I’d have enough to help Landon the way I wanted to.
How did I think I’d ever be able to start a life with Aubrey if I had nothing real to offer her? I was slowly becoming a pathetic fool living on delusional dreams and nothing else. I thought of Gash’s offer to come back to the club, and I knew I had very few choices. And having no options was a dangerous position for me to be in.
I’m still here, Maxx. In the back of your drawer. I’m not going anywhere.
The voice teased me. The need crawled like a snake up my throat, making it hard to breathe. I got to my feet and went into the bathroom, quickly running the water in the sink. I splashed cold water on my face and rubbed my eyes.
I braced myself against the smooth porcelain of the base and stared at the man looking back at me from the mirror. I wished I could say I liked the person I saw there. But I couldn’t.
Sure, my eyes were clear. Gone was the sickly sallow pallor of my skin. I had gained some weight since my stint in rehab, mostly because I was eating cheap shitty food full of fat and chemicals, because that was all I could afford.
But the person I saw there, in the smeared glass, looked tired and lost and more than a little depressed.
He looked defeated.
I pushed away from the counter and rushed back to my bedroom, slamming the door shut.
I ripped open the drawer and pulled out my socks and boxers, throwing them onto the floor. I found the tiny plastic bag I had put there weeks before. The two pills taunted me.
I wanted them so much it hurt. I wanted to cry and shout and kick shit. Then I found myself running back down the hallway with that bag clenched tight in my fist, as though the devil himself were chasing me.
I pushed open the door to the bathroom and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet. I dumped the remaining contents of the bag into the water and with shaking hands flushed. I fell to my side, curling my knees to my chest, and sobbed.
I hated myself for still wanting them, and for being so weak that I had almost given in.
Most of all I hated myself for the brief moment when I had felt that those drugs were my only choice. That they were all I needed.
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