by Holly Hart
I nod. I am kind of a nerd. And I should’ve been on this from day one. Now, I’m a week behind, getting all my information from the wrong end of the horse. “So, tell me about—”
“—you want to be first to hear it...you know where to find us!”
“Huh?” Lily?
My eyes snap to the TV. A man’s scarred face fills the screen, all bad teeth and stringy hair. He screams something indiscernible, and the camera cuts away.
Neil laughs. “Fuck was that?”
Well, that’s sobered me up. “No idea.” I drain my drink, my own laughter hitting just as I swallow. I sputter a bit, eyes watering. “You know, I think it’s finally hitting me—the crash. This past week’s been just....” Where to begin? “I’ve been fleeced by a hillbilly, assaulted by a cowboy, embarrassed by a taco—I’ve played laser tag. And did I mention—did I mention, that hillbilly threatened to eat me?”
“Wait, you—what?” Neil’s chortling even harder, holding his napkin to his mouth. “A cannibal hillbilly...cowboy...what?”
“Never mind.” I wipe my eyes, laughter finally wearing off. “What I’m trying to say, I guess... It’s been so surreal—so outside the lines—none of it’s sunk in. Seeing you, it’s like waking up. From a dream I’m not sure I want to wake up from. No offence.”
“Hey, none taken. Had a few dreams like that myself. Mostly the dirty ones.” He waves at the bartender. “Two more over here!”
I shouldn’t be drinking. Drinking more. Something’s crumbling inside me, and I don’t like what’s seeping through the cracks. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“From what? Getting on the plane?”
Not that. “No. From... I’ve been playing my life like a videogame.”
“Huh?”
Spiraling. Going off the rails. “What am I doing here?”
Neil steadies me, hand on my arm. “Just how drunk are you?”
“Not that drunk. I’m talking about all this—all this cloak-and-dagger...you snooping around the office, chasing some phantom coup—what was I thinking?”
Neil’s face falls. “Brandon.... You weren’t wrong.”
“You’re saying.... You’re telling me you found something? Something substantial?”
He pushes my drink down the bar. “Brace yourself.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lily
I close my eyes. Count to five. Open them again. Nope—still happening. It’s not a fight, exactly, but Mark with his arm around Wayne’s shoulders, half-dragging him off-camera... This isn’t headed anywhere great.
“Get off me! Go on—git!”
Mark glowers. “Don’t talk to me like a dog.”
Wayne wriggles free, but there’s nowhere to go. Behind us, there’s nothing but cameras; ahead, a wall of people. Mark’s playing with him, swatting at the air above his head. Smiling like it’s all a big game. Wayne’s grinning too, trying to make like he’s playing along.
“This is him off-leash,” he announces. A few heads turn his way. “C’mon, Rover. Heel, now. Good boy.”
We’re barely inside, in full view of the cameras. A phalanx of lenses swivels our way.
“Talk to me that way one more time—”
“You’ll what? Bite me?”
“Don’t do it.” Not sure which one I’m talking to. Either. Both.
Mark launches a volley of barks. A tower of champagne glasses shivers as Wayne’s hip rattles the table.
Somebody nudges my elbow. “They gonna fight?”
Hell if I know. This can’t be about me, or even Aidan. Mark doesn’t get mad. Not like this. He’s more the write-you-into-a-hate-ballad type.
“Mark—”
He crowds up on Wayne, treading on his foot. It’s too bright in here, lights glittering off glass and sequins; cameras flashing; the last of the sunset blazing in my eyes. Mark’s locked on Wayne like an angry Rottweiler, snapping, actually snapping in his face, bumping him back when he doesn’t give ground.
“Mark, please—”
“Stay back, Lil.”
Wayne’s ass hits the wall. A bead of sweat drips off his chin and darkens his collar.
This can’t happen. “You wanna get us kicked out?”
“I said stay back!” Stitches tear under Wayne’s arms as Mark jerks him up by the lapels. A button pops loose and rolls to a stop at my feet. Wayne teeters on tiptoe. He’s yammering, scrabbling, all impotent rage, and security’s taking note—boy, are they ever: four beefy guards headed our way.
“Mark, I swear to God, if you don’t drop him right now—”
He does. Wayne stumbles and grabs for him, but Mark leans out of the way, letting him trip over his own feet. He goes down hard, palms slapping on the floor. I can hear him breathing—wheezy, like a bellows.
Mark circles him, all leather and steel toes. “I was never going to hurt you. Just wanted you to see what it’s like. Falling down in front of all your friends.” He gestures at the crowd. “How’s it feel? You like ‘em all seeing you on your knees?”
“I—”
“My mama got home from church—her whole life was in the yard. All the furniture I got her, covered in mud. Clothes falling out of boxes. Her underwear—fuck! That’s my mama! What’s the matter with you?”
His mother?
“I’m done with you.” He spits on the floor next to Wayne’s hand. “You wanna talk to me, go through Lily.”
Oh. Thanks for that.
Wayne picks himself up, glowering all round. No one’s even looking at him, now the promise of a fight’s dribbled away. His venomous gaze lands on me. “You got a problem too?”
Several. The crowd’s starting to thin out. Jed and Adina are both taking care of Mark, which leaves Wayne on me. “Come on. We’re in the way.”
“Where the hell were you last night?”
No way. Uh-uh. No more public scenes. I step up my pace.
“I said—”
“What’d you do to his mother?”
“Nothin’.” He really is like a toddler, sulking and ducking the blame. Trying to turn it around on me.
I buttonhook into the stairwell, putting a door between us and the hall. “Fine. Yell at me. Get it out of your system. Then I want—”
“I don’t know what’s come over y’all, but if this is how you carry on when you got nothing to do—hey!” He slaps the wall by my head. “I can give you something. Fuck knows the new album needs work, and I got—”
I stand and let the tirade wash over me, fixating on the gross spittle in the corners of his mouth to avoid looking him in the eye. He won’t hurt me, not here. It’s just a matter of running out the clock.
“—and that’s another thing. You’re a girl. You can’t be Tommy Lee, out there making sex tapes, lettin’ your trailer trash show. Thought you knew better. Huh?”
Oh. He’s expecting a response? “What happened to Mark’s mom?”
Wayne waves me off, curt and irritable. “Told you: nothin’. Few mortgage payments never went through. Bank chucked her out. Temporarily. I’m fixin’ it.”
Jesus. Glad I don’t let him near my finances. “And in the meantime, she’s, what? On the street?”
“Hey, now—she’s the one never let on there was a problem. Notices were comin’ for months before she did anything about it. All she had to do was pick up the phone. I’d have had those payments through quicker’n shit through a goose.”
It’s like he’s forgotten we grew up together, me and Mark. Forgotten I was living with him and his mom—his family and mine crammed into a cheese-smelling double-wide—when we started the band.
“Still want to know where I was last night?”
“Huh?” Wayne blinks at the abrupt change of subject. “Where?”
I lean against the door, edging it open. “With the guy who kicked your ass. And it was good.”
He bunches his fists, but it’s too late. Everyone can see us. I tip him my sleaziest wink and melt into the crowd.
Chapter Twen
ty
Brandon
Three separate disasters? I blink owlishly, trying to untangle the various threads.
“You’re positive? On all of these?” The evidence is strewn over the bar, an untidy shuffle of spreadsheets and memos and bills of lading, but.... “This isn’t how it was.” I reach for a payroll sheet, tracing my finger over each line. “I’ve seen this before. A different version.”
“And I can get you that, to compare, but for now—”
“I can’t ignore this.”
“I’m not saying you should.” Neil pushes another drink my way. How many’s that, now? “All I’m saying is, it’s almost midnight. We’re both buzzed. And I’ve already taken measures—”
“What measures?”
“A full audit for the London office. A cybersecurity firm to deal with the leaks.”
Cybersecurity. That’s a funny word. I pinch myself hard.
“And Anderson and Miller?”
“I’m closing in.” He grins, all confidence. “One more week—two, tops—they can kiss their filthy little coup goodbye. I’ve already started recruiting for their jobs. Meanwhile....” Neil’s smile fades. For the first time all night, he looks...nervous? Uncomfortable?
“What?”
“You need to keep a low profile. They’ve been, uh....” He’s avoiding my eyes, messing with his glass. “They’ve been setting you up for a fall. Laying a trail of—how should I put this?—remember that guy you kept seeing? The redhead?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s a hacker. He’s been fucking with you—your phone, your schedule, your hotel reservations. Not sure how it works, but as long as he’s close enough, he can say anything—do anything—and there’s no way to tell it wasn’t you.”
A hacker? What is this, Mr. Robot?
“Brandon?”
“Uh, yeah...What wasn’t me?”
“Don’t know the extent of it yet. You’ve sent some, uh—some erratic messages. Mostly to clients. Scheduled meetings you never showed up for. Fired people and had their department heads bawl ‘em out for not being at their desks. And...you might want to cancel your credit cards.”
I’ll have to change my passwords. My online habits. My locks? Has he been in my home? My stomach sours at the thought of that redheaded bastard going through my drawers, trailing his fingers over my countertops, leaving traces of himself in every room.
“You should be fine as long as you stay out of sight. Stay offline when you can. Don’t talk to anyone you don’t have to.”
Anyone I don’t have to. That should be easy. I’ll just talk to Lily. She wouldn’t hack me or steal from me, or sell my trade secrets. She thinks I’m...Brandon Lee.
“Remember, you’re not paranoid if they are out to get you.”
Out to get me.... I’m not tired, but I want my room. Four walls around me. A closed, locked door.
“You look tired. You been sleeping okay?”
I’ve been dreaming a lot. Not of the crash—just deep, hazy dreams, full of faded nostalgia.
“Brandon?”
I sit up straighter, startled. “Sorry. Woolgathering.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“Mm....” Don’t think I’ll be getting much of that tonight. Maybe I’ll knock on Lily’s door, see if she’s back. Unless she’s a dream, too.
“Look, despite all of this, it’s been great to see you.” Neil treats me to one of his trademark bear hugs, squeezing an indignant grunt out of me. “Take care of yourself, all right? I’ve got this, I swear. Two weeks max: wait and see.”
“What Dad used to say.... You really are. My brother. More than...if I had an actual brother. It’d still be you.”
“Aw, man, you’re blasted.”
I really am.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lily
“Oh!”
Brandon’s right there, waiting for the elevator. His eyes widen at the sight of me, tired and disheveled, wheelie bag in tow. He doesn’t look great himself. His cheeks are flushed and his hair’s a mess, like he tried to comb it with his fingers.
“I was just—”
“Didn’t know you were—”
We both laugh at once, breaking up the tension. He steps aside, waving me by. “Checking out already?”
“Staging a midnight escape.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but my laugh comes out thin and reedy.
“He hurt you?”
“No. And he’s not getting the chance.” Headlights glare as a cab pulls up. Not Wayne, please not Wayne.... I hold my breath, ready to bolt. A middle-aged woman steps out. My knees go weak. “Walk me out?”
“Sure.”
He reaches for my bag, already falling in beside me. There’s something off about him, something jumpy. He’s walking fast, scoping out the lobby. His lips are a thin white line, knuckles white and bloodless.
“Brandon?”
He gasps, whipping around like I’ve spooked him. My wheelie bag slips his grasp, handle cracking on the floor.
“You all right?”
“Oh....” Brandon hunches over, massaging his forehead. “Honestly, uh... I’m a little drunk. Not so coordinated right now.” When he drops his hand, that wild look’s gone. He’s himself again—bewildered, somewhat the worse for wear, but definitely Brandon. “My friend flew in from home. Kept ordering Jack and Cokes. Jacks and...Coke? Why I thought I could keep up...ugh.” He’s more than a little drunk, swaying on his feet.
“Come on, then.” I grab my bag and swing his arm over my shoulder. No way I’m leaving him like this.
“Where are we going?” He muffles a hiccup in his hand. “Actually...don’t tell me. Anywhere but here.”
Either he’s a hell of a weird drunk, or his night went about as well as mine. Going by the expression on his face, I’d say the latter.
We end up in the same Holiday Inn, different room. The art above the bed’s an oceanscape this time. Last room had a farm. Or a meadow. Something green. I stretch out on the bed and close my eyes, listening to the shower run. It’s soothing, like rain. Always meant to get one of those white noise machines, for sleeping on the road. Or a memory foam pillow, or a cozy blanket—something familiar to take from bed to bed.
My phone buzzes. I power it down without opening my eyes. Wayne’ll keep a while. I want to be nice and fresh when I clue him in on our new arrangement. Things are going to be different from now on. Better for all of us—even him. He’ll see it my way. He has to.
Feels like Brandon snapped me out of a trance—like that one slap that never came reminded me of a time when no one hit me, no one threatened me, no one treated me like property. I got used to some things I shouldn’t have, but this is my limit. This is where I fight back.
The shower shuts off. I can hear Brandon, now, toweling off, opening cupboards, brushing his teeth. He looks better when he comes out: pale but sober.
“Better?”
He perches on the edge of the bed, holding his stomach. “Think I’m done throwing up, at least.”
“Aw.” I reach out and rub his back, as high as I can reach. “Lie down. Close your eyes. I’ll get you some water.”
“I had some. Just... Stay with me.” He fumbles for my hand, overbalances, and topples into the pillows with a heartfelt groan. “Oh. That hurt.”
Poor Brandon. “Not a big drinker, I take it?”
He pulls a pillow over his eyes, hiding from the light. “Hell, no. Don’t usually have time, let alone the desire. Last time I got past, y’know, fun drunk...mm....” The bed creaks as he rolls onto his side. “College, I think. No—the summer before.”
“Anything sweet’s the worst. Keeps you from tasting the booze.” I curl around him. He’s a little clammy, shivering under his robe. Even so, I find myself snuggling closer. I’m always cold on my own. Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing: not a blanket, not a noise machine, but a warm body. A heartbeat besides my own.
Brandon finds my hand and cradles it to his chest like a s
tuffed toy. “Mm. This is nice.” He sniffs, swallows, and rubs his face on the pillow. “Think I might be having, like...a low-key panic attack.”
“Right now?”
He nods. “It’s not that bad. More of a feeling I can’t shake. Foreboding, I guess. You ever get that, where you don’t really deal with things, and you’re coasting along all right, but....”
“Everything sneaks up on you in the end?”
“Yeah. That.”
I kiss the back of his neck. The skin’s cool and damp. “Would it help to talk about it?”
“Maybe. When my head’s stopped pounding.”
“We’ll have a good day tomorrow. Breakfast in bed, maybe a swim.” I pitch my voice low and soothing, droning on about all the stuff we can do—more than would ever fit in a day. It seems to be helping: he quits shivering when I get to the peacocks in Mayfield Park, and halfway through my verbal tour of Sixth Street, his breathing evens out, growing deep and regular.
At last, certain he’s asleep, I let my monologue trail off. Pretty soon I’m drifting off myself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brandon
“Stay in your seat, Mr. Shaw!” The pilot turns around, and he’s on fire. “We’ll be on the ground in forty...thirty-nine....”
“Looks like the rudder fell off.”
“Neil?” This isn’t right. “How’d you get on this flight?”
“Don’t you remember?”
I don’t. I really don’t. Up front, the pilot continues his countdown: thirty-one...thirty....
“Look down.”
I swivel in my seat to peer out the window. We’re cruising serenely above the clouds. The sunset’s beautiful up here, blue and red and gold forever. I can see the brightest stars already. Pins holding up the night sky.
“Not there. Here.” Neil taps my knee. The countdown hits twenty. And my lap’s full of tomato juice.
“You got a tissue?”
Neil looks away. I scrub at my lap with my sleeve. The fabric of my pants sloughs away, and my skin, and the muscle beneath. I’m looking at bone.