by S. R. Grey
Shit. It pains me to think Will even has those kinds of contacts. But he’s bought drugs from someone in the past, right? Not to mention, who knows who Cassie is involved with. After all, it was with her that Will first tried cocaine.
“You’re not going back,” I say with finality. “You’re going to let the police handle this shit.”
Will makes a scoffing noise and says, “Now you’re suddenly a fan of the police?”
“Doesn’t matter what my personal thoughts are. This is about what’s best for you—and Cassie—in this situation.”
“Whatever, dude,” Will replies dismissively. “I’m changing my ticket today. Can you or Kay take me to the airport tonight?”
“Will, no!” I slam my palms down on the table and stand up. “You can’t go back. Mom and Greg won’t be home until next Friday. Not to mention, Mom doesn’t even know what’s going on. Just hold tight till next week. You can go home then.”
Will shoves his chair back, the legs scraping the linoleum. “Really, Chase?” he snorts. “You want me to wait until next Friday to go home? That’s nine fucking days away. You know all the shit that could happen to my girlfriend in nine days?”
“The cops will find Paul,” I say as reassuringly as I can. “Cassie will be fine.”
Will doesn’t seem to know what to do. He runs his hand through his hair, turns left and right, and finally plops back down in the chair.
I glance at the clock on the stove. “Shit. I have to leave. I’m going to be late for work.”
Will shrugs.
“Look, I hate to do this, but I have to go. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Will glances up, his greens shaded by a swath of dark-blond hair that’s fallen to his face. “Just promise me you’ll think about letting me go back early,” he whispers, his voice pleading. “I’ll be fine alone at the house in Vegas.” He gestures around. “I’m here alone all the time. What am I going to do there that I can’t do here?”
I sigh and say nothing. There are way too many answers to that loaded question. The first of which is that my hotheaded brother will probably make a deal with some unsavory person the second his flight touches down, in an attempt to find Cassie’s stepdad. Then, he will go after him.
I reiterate that we’ll discuss it further when I get home from work. “I’ll think about it,” I say. “Maybe we can call Mom later and work something out.”
That seems to appease Will. However, do I really plan to contact our mother so my brother can go home early? Hell no. But if allowing him to believe I’m considering it means he’ll cool down and not do anything rash, my false words are justified.
The thought of how easily Will finds trouble reminds me to add, “No going out with Jared today.”
“Can he come over, at least?” Will responds.
“Not today. Find something to do around the house by yourself. Play video games on the computer…or work on your comic book.”
Will mutters, “Yeah, okay, whatever.” When he sees me glancing again at the clock, he adds sarcastically, “Better get going.”
I ignore his attitude and hit the road. But the whole way to work, I have this incredibly sick feeling, the kind that clutches at your throat and makes you feel like you can barely catch your breath.
I almost call Father Maridale to take the day off, but I’m needed at the school today since the rummage sale is starting. I can’t expect Kay and pregnant Missy to lug a bunch of heavy shit out to people’s cars.
When I get to the church grounds, I search out Kay. She’s in the gymnasium, standing behind a long table, setting up calculators and blank sales receipts. I take her aside and fill her in on what’s going on with Will.
“Do you want me to call Cassie?” she asks. “I could probably talk her into making sure Will doesn’t do anything stupid, like run off to Vegas or something.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know, Kay. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
She touches my arm. “Hey, I’ll call Cassie. If anyone can make Will stay put, it’s her.”
“Will staying put isn’t the only thing I’m worried about.” My eyes meet hers, and she knows my immediate concern is that my brother will seek out drugs today. This latest development is the exact kind of trigger to send him off in search of a high.
Kay presses her lips together determinedly. “Well, if that’s what you’re worried about, I think I have an idea to make sure Will doesn’t leave the house.”
“I’m open to anything,” I tell her. And, damn, I am.
Kay then tells me her idea. And, as it turns out, the plan isn’t bad. But it requires rapid action. Kay’s plan to keep Will from taking off is for the two of us to basically take turns babysitting him.
“That way,” Kay says, “he won’t have an opportunity to go out.”
I hope she’s right.
“If you can help Missy this morning,” Kay continues, “I’ll head home now and stay with Will until lunchtime. Then we’ll switch.”
It’s not optimum—and I am less than thrilled to be stuck with Missy Metzger all morning—but Kay’s plan is better than leaving Will to his own devices all day.
After we review the plan particulars, Kay says, “Okay, great. I’ll tell Father Maridale what’s going on. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
I grab her arm. “No, wait. I should be the one to tell him.” I nod to Missy, who’s clearly trying to eavesdrop. “You go fill her in on what’s going on. She looks like she’s dying to know.”
“I’m on it,” she says.
Kay heads over to the table Missy is sitting behind, and I leave to go find Father Maridale. I locate him in the church; bring him up to speed while we’re standing next to the confessionals. Of course, Father is fine with our plan—he’s always so easy-going. I then return to the gymnasium to let Kay know she can leave. But to my surprise, she has already left.
The rummage sale appears to be going full-speed ahead. There’s already a line a mile long of people waiting to buy stuff.
Missy glances over at me, tilts her head, and mouths one word: “Help.”
Chuckling, I nod and approach the table.
As the morning progresses, Missy and I don’t have an opportunity to talk much, but we work well together. She sells the stuff, and I carry anything exceptionally heavy out to the buyers’ cars.
Shortly before lunch, as I’m returning from carrying an outdated, heavy-as-fuck TV out to the parking lot for some little old lady, I take note that the line has finally ended. Everyone is gone.
Slumping down into the seat next to Missy, I exhale loudly and say, “A break, at last.”
Missy smiles and says, “I know, right? I thought that line would never end.”
“Seriously,” I concur as I lean back in my chair.
Missy glances over at me. “Um,” she says softly, “Kay told me about what’s going on with your brother, and I know you have to leave soon, but I just wanted to say I hope everything turns out okay.”
Missy is trying to be nice, and I feel kind of bad for her that she’s knocked up with the kid of some guy she barely knows, so I decide I may as well be cool with her.
I run my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I hope so, too.”
Missy falls silent. She starts straightening some things on the table. I can tell she’s nervous, especially when she knocks over a small, flimsy box filled with golf balls. The lid pops open, and golf balls roll out all over the table.
Missy stands quickly and grabs at the balls, but they’re rolling every which way and she has no luck collecting them.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she stammers. “God, I’m such an idiot.”
I gather the golf balls with one swoop of my hand and place them back in the box. “Missy”—my eyes meet hers—“it’s fine.”
She glances away, and I look down. She’s standing right in my line of sight, though, and I can’t help but notice that the dress she’s wearing is far more conservative than
the sleazy shit she used to wear. In fact, the light-brown, sheath-like thing she has on is far more conservative than the dresses Kay reserves for Mass. Even though the dress is loose fitting, the fabric is stretched tight in the waist area. Missy is not really showing—according to Kay, she’s only eight or nine weeks—but her stomach is no longer completely flat.
When she catches me staring at her midsection, Missy covers her abdomen with her hand and sits back down quickly.
“I guess you think I’m, like, the town whore, huh?” she asks. “Especially since we”—she waves her hand between us—“have a history of our own.”
“Missy, I don’t think you’re a whore.”
“Yeah, you say that, but I know Kay told you what happened the night she and I went to the Anchor Inn.”
“She did,” I confirm.
Missy sighs. “I was out of control that night, Chase. But that was the drugs, not me.”
I don’t reply, and Missy continues.
“Anyway, I swear I was only with one of those guys—just Tony. Not Nick. Tony is the father of my baby. I already told Kay that. She believes me, doesn’t she?”
I shrug since I have no idea why what Kay believes is so important to Missy.
But she’s waiting for a reply, so I say, “I’m sure she believes you, Missy.”
“Good,” she says, nodding.
Missy seems pretty fucking emphatic here, the way she’s insisting Tony—not Nick—is the dad. But I can’t imagine why it matters so much.
To end the weird conversation, I say, “This is really none of my business.”
“I know, but I have one more thing to say about my behavior.” Missy glances down. “I just don’t want you and Kay thinking I am someone I’m not. I mean, I know you and I hooked up, but like my night with Nick and Tony, that wasn’t really me. I had snorted a ton of coke the night you and I—”
“I know,” I interject. How could I forget the packet of white powder in her bag?
“I was doing a lot of things back then.” She sighs. “Things I now wish I hadn’t.”
“Listen, Missy,” I reply gently, “you don’t have to keep explaining yourself to me. Trust me, I’m no saint.”
She smiles sadly. “Thanks, Chase.”
“For what?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. For not judging me, I guess.”
“I have in the past,” I admit.
“That’s okay. I probably deserved it at the time. But I don’t want that rep following me around forever, especially after this baby is born.” She touches her abdomen again. “I already told Kay that I don’t want my kid thinking bad things about me. I want to be the kind of person he or she can respect. Like, I want to be a good mom, you know?”
“I’m sure you’ll be a great mom, Missy.”
When I say it, at first I think I’m just being nice. But then I realize I mean it. I think maybe Missy getting pregnant happened at just the right time, before she sank too low to recover. Now she’s away from drugs and getting her life in order.
And, like all of us, she definitely deserves this second chance.
Chapter Twelve
Kay
When I return to the farmhouse and walk into the hallway, the first thing I notice is the silence.
You can almost hear a pin drop.
I immediately assume Will has already left, taken off to God-knows-where, and that my plan is a bust before it has even begun.
But then I hear noise from the living room, like someone tapping at a keyboard. Sure enough, when I go in to see who’s here, I find Will seated at the computer.
I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Hey, Will.”
Will spins in his seat. “Kay, what are you doing home?” He’s clearly startled, but his tone quickly turns sarcastic. “I thought today was the big, important junk sale.”
“It’s a rummage sale,” I snap, bristling at his smart-ass attitude.
He laughs, turning back to the computer screen. “Yeah, like I said, a junk sale.”
I choose to ignore Will’s snide remark. He’s still pissed at Chase, and the world. He’s just taking it out on me since I’m the one here.
I take a step closer to where he’s working on the computer, and when he notices, he quickly closes the window he’s viewing.
“What were you doing?” I question.
“Nothing,” he mutters, before snatching up a piece of paper lying in the printer tray.
Quickly, he jams the paper into what appears to be a boarding pass–type folder, leaving me to conclude Will has made some sort of change to his ticket to fly to Vegas.
“Will,” I begin, sighing. “You know you can’t go back to Vegas until your mom returns from her cruise.”
“Yeah, I know,” he remarks nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, Kay, everything’s cool.”
I start to reply, but he talks right over me.
“Why, again, are you home before ten o’clock in the morning?”
I ignore his question. “I’ll only be here till lunchtime,” I say. “Then I’m heading back.”
Despite my attempt to be vague as to why I’m at the house, Will figures it out.
“Oh, let me guess,” he snipes, “my brother is taking the afternoon babysit-Will shift.”
“Hey, it’s not like that.”
“Oh, but it is.” He holds up his hand and stands. “Save it, Kay. I’m going up to my room.”
He brushes past me, and not two minutes later, loud music is blaring from his room. Will must really be pissed; the whole house reverberates with heavy bass.
“Ugh,” I mutter.
I try my best to ignore the music, busying myself with washing dishes Will left in the sink, dusting in the living room. I also try to call Cassie a few times, but big surprise, she doesn’t answer. I attempt to read at one point, but find it impossible with the loud music. So, basically, I end up spending the remainder of the morning trying to ward off a headache that is threatening to bloom.
Thankfully, noon rolls around and Chase comes home.
“Jesus,” he yells over the music as he walks into the kitchen. “What the fuck?”
I’m seated at the table, head in my hands. I glance up and say loudly, “Don’t worry, you kind of get used to it after a while.”
Chase shakes his head. He walks back out through the dining room and into the hall. I get up and follow him.
He yells up the stairs, “Hey, Will, turn that shit down some.”
I place my hand on his shoulder.
He turns to me. “I’m gonna kill that kid, I swear.”
The music continues, loud as ever, and his eyes meet mine.
I shrug. “Maybe we should check on him?”
“Yeah.” Chase scrubs a hand down his face. “Let’s go see if he has any eardrums left.”
But Will’s eardrums are of no concern when we walk into his room. He’s not even there.
“Shit.” Chase turns off the stereo and rushes over to the open window. A screen from the window sits propped up nearby. I notice that, like in Chase’s room, the roof is flat in this section of the house.
“Fuck,” Chase grinds out as he leans his head out the window. “Will must have shimmied down one of the porch posts.”
When he turns to face me, he looks more worried than mad.
“Where do you think he went? I didn’t hear any cars.” After a thoughtful pause, I add, “Then again, I couldn’t really hear anything with all that loud music.”
Chase sits down on the side of Will’s bed.
“I’m sure my brother knew you couldn’t hear anything. He turned the music up high like that on purpose.”
I sit down next to Chase, and the bed dips slightly.
“Do you think he walked somewhere?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “My guess is that he had Jared pick him up at the end of the driveway.”
“I’m sorry, Chase.” I feel like I’ve failed him by not watching Will more closely. I just never expected his broth
er to sneak out an upstairs window. “I should have checked on him.”
“Kay—”
“No, Chase, this is my fault.” I cast my eyes downward, but seconds later, Chase is tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his soft gaze.
“Baby girl,” he says, “don’t say that kind of shit. This was not your fault.”
I nod into his hand, accepting his words. And then I ask, “If you’re going to go out to look for him, can I come with you?”
“Sure,” he replies, smiling and trailing his fingers down my neck. “We should leave soon since we have no idea how long he’s been gone. He could be anywhere, especially if he’s with Jared.”
Now seems a good time to mention that Will was on the computer when I first returned home this morning. “He closed whatever window he had open when I walked over,” I say once I’ve gotten Chase up to speed. “And then he snatched something up from the printer tray. You don’t think he had Jared take him to the airport, do you?”
Chase scowls and glances around Will’s room. “Nah, he wouldn’t leave all his stuff behind.”
True, all of Will’s belongings appear to be in place.
Chase and I go downstairs, preparing to leave to search for Will, but before we walk out he door, I call Missy to let her know we won’t be returning to the school this afternoon.
“Why?” she asks. “Did something bad happen with Chase’s brother?”
“Yeah, Missy, something kind of bad did happen. Will took off.”
“Oh no,” Missy says concernedly.
“Chase and I are going out now to look for him,” I continue, “but that means we aren’t going to make it back for the rest of the rummage sale.”
Missy’s tone is filled with nothing but concern and kindness when she replies, “Don’t worry about anything, Kay. I’ve got it covered. I can call my mom. She’ll be happy to come in this afternoon and help out. Take as long as you need. Oh, and I’ll let Father Maridale know what’s going on.”
“Thank you, Missy,” I breathe out, relieved. “You’re a lifesaver.” And, really, she is, stepping up to the plate like this.
Before we disconnect, Missy says, “I hope you find Will. I’ll say a prayer that he’s all right.”
I am hoping the same thing as Chase and I drive away from the house in his truck.