Between Friends (Between the Raindrops #3)

by Susan Schussler

  NAK AND I FIND a propped open fire door, hidden from the view of the alley, and peek inside.

  “You brought your gun, right?” Nak’s voice quivers, and it makes me wish I really had a gun.

  “Of course. Did I tell you how much I appreciate…” I stop midsentence when the stench stabs my nostrils and swallows my head. My stomach heaves and I cover my mouth and nose with my T-shirt. It’s not enough. I cup it tighter with my hand. We climb the stairs unsure what we will find on the fourth floor. When we reach the second-floor landing, we get a small taste of what’s to come. A guy lies sprawled across the walkway as if lying face down on the cement is the most natural place to sleep. We don’t speak as we step over him, but Nak points to his shoes.

  Seth’s shoes.

  He’s not the right build to be my brother and I cringe at the thought of why he’s wearing them.

  “Where’d you get these shoes?” I ask through my shirt while prodding him with my foot. A grunt is the only response I get and I’m pretty sure in his state, he doesn’t know. We continue up the steps and figure out where the disgusting odor is coming from. The third-story landing is apparently a bathroom. A kiddy pool filled with human waste is pushed into the corner. Its contents nearly brimming the pool’s edge. We move quickly to the fourth floor and when we step inside, the stench dissipates enough to uncover our mouths. Now the smell of both fresh and stale urine mixes with acrid, sweet smoke.

  “Let’s just hope we find him, because I’m not telling my mom some long-haired, balding guy was wearing his shoes.”

  “You’re buying me a new pair of shoes,” says Nak. He’s joking, but I will. His comment helps me cope with this place.

  We walk down a long, dark hallway with a single window lighting the far end. It looks like an office building stuck in the sixties. The transom above the first door we come to leaks smoke into the hallway and I try the handle. I recoil as my hand sticks to the knob, but I manage to unlatch the door enough to push it open with my shoulder. Nak walks through in front of me. We both silently survey the large room, trying not to bring attention to ourselves or maybe we are both in shock. This is ten times worse than the worst-case scenario I pictured in my head. I thought there would be a bunch of guys passed out on a couch with music blaring, but there is no furniture here except a couple of mattresses. A guy crouches on his knees ten feet from us giving another a blow job, and neither seems put off by us walking in the door. I scour each face to make sure it’s not Seth. Who knows what he would do in his desperate state? I hope the money from his car has held out.

  We continue deeper into the room examining the circles of two to three people huddling together. These humans are barely alive. The dark cave of the room sucks all life out of the atmosphere. I wonder how many here have family looking for them and how many will die without seeing their families again. I can’t let Seth die here. We edge closer to one group, which has a guy who could be Seth, and they turn defensively toward us. I just need to see their faces. Nope, not Seth. On to the next clutch.

  We make it most of the way around the room before the guy on the receiving end by the door approaches us.

  “Sorry. I was taking care of business when you came in.” He smiles as his eyes brush down my body and then up Nak’s. Worse than the third-floor landing. “I only have one rule. First timers have to use a nickel in front of me before I’ll sell you anymore. I’ve got kits if you need ‘em.”

  I don’t respond to the guy’s words because I want to kick the shit out of him and we may need him to find Seth. That’s when I spot a body slumped alone on a mattress next to the wall just past the dealer. It fits Seth’s build. No shoes. I rush over, lifting the guy’s head to see his face. My body begins shaking and I can’t breathe. Not like this. I didn’t want to find him like this. Tears leak from my eyes as I lay him flat on the mattress and pull out the syringe flapping in his arm. His eyes flutter, barely opening before they close again. I feel sick. I suck in a breath and I feel Nak’s hand on my shoulder. I can’t think. Tremors rake through me.

  “Let’s get him out of here,” says Nak, helping me up.

  I blow out the air in my lungs and we pull Seth up, draping his arms over our shoulders and clasping a hand at his waist. The dealer says something my mind doesn’t process and I don’t respond. I don’t know how we get out of there, but somehow we make it past the poop pool and out the exit. When we get to the car, I support him while Nak opens the doors. We fumble getting him onto the back seat. The tops of his feet are bloody from dragging on the sidewalk but I can’t do anything about it now. He’s barely breathing. I punch “hospitals” into my phone and pull up the navigation to the closest one. I reach back and smack Seth in the stomach to keep him awake until we get there. I figure if he’s uncomfortable, he won’t stop breathing.

  We pull up at the hospital emergency door and Nak runs inside to get help. I open the back door and push on Seth’s shoulder.

  “You stupid kid. What the hell were you thinking? You think we’d just let you die?” I hit him again in the chest.

  Tears are running down my face again by the time Nak returns with help.

  Chapter 19

  Megan

  WTF?! I END THE call with Sarah midsentence, throwing my phone as hard as I can against the door and smashing it into pieces. I can’t believe this. My whole life is out of control. I thought I was done being accused of leaking secrets three months ago when I gave Chase his phone back. I guess now I am leaking Sarah and Jon’s secrets—not just Nordstrom’s.

  I pull the tabloid Chase bought yesterday, out of my desk. He and I were picking up ice cream to celebrate the success of his app launch when he spotted it in the checkout aisle. The second I saw it, I froze—a picture of Sarah’s family’s cabin on the front cover. I knew firsthand how it would destroy Sarah. I lived that sensationalized life before, maybe not to the level Sarah lives it, but in a smaller, local sense, and she completely discounts my experience when she accuses me of selling her out.

  Does she not remember what happened when my mom died? I can’t believe I’m the one being blamed.

  I read through the article again. The details are shocking. I never talked on the phone about her and Jon meeting online or any of the particulars about their first sexual encounter, and I never mentioned any of the specifics in this article to Chase. It couldn’t have been him leaking it. Yet, I can’t imagine Sarah telling anyone but her three best friends those secrets. It has to be one of us.

  But I’m the one being blamed.

  And I am the one being uninvited to the wedding of the century.

  I cram the magazine back into my desk drawer. All I need is for my roommates to see me with it. I have to get out of here.

  I pick up the pieces of plastic that used to be my phone and shove them into my purse. First stop—buy a new phone. Second stop—pick up boxes so I can move home. I can’t stay here if everyone thinks I betrayed Sarah and I can’t stomach watching my roommates pack for the wedding.

  The wedding was going to be my opportunity to prove to Nordstrom I wasn’t the one who sold him out. Now what is he going to think? I’ll never get a chance to talk to him ever again. That door is closed for me and locked with a billion dead bolts.

  I slip into my running shoes, grab my purse, and walk down the narrow stairs and out the door as if my life isn’t falling apart again. When I reach my car, tears threaten my composure and I pause for a moment to push them back inside. This isn’t the worse thing to happen to me. I have to get some perspective. At least no one died. It just feels as if someone did. That’s when I hear Chase call my name. Just what I need—more chaos. I lean my head against the hot metal of the car trying to gather strength before pinning on a fake smile and turning to face him.

  “I thought we were doing lunch? Were you ditching our plans?”

  “Sorry, I forgot. My phone broke. I was going to get a new one.” I open my purse and show him the pieces to prove I’m not a liar. I wish I could pr
ove I’m not a liar to Sarah.

  “It looks like someone pissed you off. Hope it wasn’t me,” he says with a laugh.

  “No, it wasn’t you.”

  “You seem upset. Why don’t we grab some lunch and then deal with the phone? Come on. I’m driving.” He grasps my shoulders, pulls me away from my Beetle, and spins me toward his car.”

  His arm wraps around my shoulder and I lean into him. He’s all I’ve got. He opens the passenger door of his sports car and I collapse into the bucket seat.

  By the time our food arrives at our table in the café, I’ve told him about the call from Sarah and how I was no longer going to the wedding. I figure it wasn’t him leaking it if he never knew the details in the tabloid.

  “Two weeks before Sarah and Jon’s wedding and I just got uninvited. We’ve been friends since we were fifteen and she believes I’d sell her private life to the press. She’s nuts. I’ve heard of brides going crazy under the stress of their weddings but…really?”

  “Well, that sucks. I guess you’ll never see naked sandwich guy again.” He smiles, and I want to slap him.

  “You’re such an ass.”

  “I’m the ass? I’m not the one accusing you of something you didn’t do. Sarah’s the one who crossed over. She and the actor are too narcissistic to see the truth. Their loss, my gain.”

  “What do you mean your gain?”

  “It’s the final straw. If I was you, I would never give the guy another thought. He’s the ass, and Sarah’s never been a fan of me. I figure she’s been poisoning you about me. Now maybe you and I can finally move forward.” He licks his lips like he does when he’s planning to make his move.

  I shake my head at his me, me, me attitude. I don’t need his two cents right now, and I definitely don’t need him making moves on me.

  “Just chill. Sarah hasn’t been poisoning my mind. She’s been too busy planning the wedding of the decade, which I’m no longer going to be at, and I haven’t heard from Nordstrom since April. That’s three months. I doubt he even remembers my name.” I’ll never forget him, but he had no problem forgetting me.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I haven’t talked to Jessica or Alli yet. I don’t know what they believe. In reality, it could be one of them, or it could be the Pope. I can’t care anymore. It’s not my problem.” It is my problem, but I’m trying to get through this the only way I can cope. “I think I’m going to move out of the rental and back home. My room is still there. Will you help me move?”

  “Why don’t you just move in with me? It’s a big house. You could have your own room, rent-free, if that’s what you need.”

  “My dad’s house is rent-free, too. I was planning on moving home after the wedding anyway. Our lease is up at the end of July. That’s just a few weeks away, and I’ll be starting grad school a couple weeks after that. I need to spend some time with my family. You can understand that, right?”

  “Why don’t we head back to my house and get some boxes. You can take a look around and see what you think.”

  I haven’t been to his house. I’ve been avoiding it, thinking it would be too easy for us to slip into our old ways on his territory. There is something stopping me from being with him. I don’t know what it is, but right now, I am just too weak to fight.

  We pull up at a huge estate, which looks way too intense to be owned by the Chase Maxwell I used to know. He parks the car on the drive just outside the open garage and looks to me. He opens the center console and pulls out the phone he gave me months ago.

  “You may as well use this now that you know I didn’t stalk the actor. It’s just sitting here. No one’s touched it since you gave it back to me.”

  “Thanks.” I take it from him and put it in my purse. It will save me some money if I don’t have to buy a new phone.

  “I’ve been trying to get you into my lair for months and all you needed was for your friends to turn on you. They’ve been holding you back, babe.”

  His words spring my life’s problems to front and center. I don’t understand how Sarah could think I would ever talk to the press. She mentioned Alli said I was talking in private all the time. That’s a lie. Yes, I’ve tried to keep my conversations with Chase private, but I’ve barely talked to him in the last three months. He’s been busy with his app launch and I’ve been busy too. First finals, then graduation, and then I started working for Professor Dunlap. The research she was working on needed to be finished and written up so she could get published, again, and that is what I spent eight hours a day doing, sometimes ten, for the last month. We just finished yesterday. I’ve hardly been at the rental house. How would Alli know anything about what’s going on in my life?

  “You all right?” asks Chase as we reach the front door.

  “Yeah. I’m just still a bit miffed about what happened with Sarah, but I’ll get over it.”

  He opens the door and as we walk in, I realize his house is very much a bachelor pad. Black leather furniture with grey walls and white trim. The blinds are closed in the large room to the right of the entryway and even though it is the middle of the day, the room is black, except a small strip of light coming from the kitchen. Chase taps on his phone and the blinds slowly rise, revealing a large wall of windows.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” He motions to the couch and walks into the kitchen. “I’m going to get us some drinks,” he calls from the other room.

  Now that the blinds are open, I see that the grey walls are covered in some sort of acoustical fabric, and four large screens hang on the wall in front of the sofa and chair arrangement. Tiny speakers circle the room at ear height. This must be where he plays video games. It makes sense—the room darkening blinds, the sound system, and the multiple screens. He returns with two large glasses of lemonade. I half expected mine to be spiked with alcohol—I could use it—but it is just plain, virgin lemonade. I guess it wouldn’t make sense for him to have alcohol in the house when he’s sober.

  I sit back, crossing my legs, and when something scrapes against my shorts, I reach back to remove the source of the discomfort. It’s a condom wrapper. I can tell by the size and shape. I pull it out of the crevice of the cushion. Yep, a used condom wrapper. At least it’s not a used condom.

  “Should I be worried about where I sit?” I hand it to Chase, and he smiles.

  “I never said I would be celibate waiting for you,” he says without apology as he shoves it into his pocket.

  “Me neither,” I say, though I’ve been nothing but celibate for the last three months. His eyebrows narrow and I can tell he didn’t like my comment. Too bad. “Is this where you work?”

  “No this is the playroom. I have a computer room downstairs. I’ll show you around.” He stands and offers me his hand. I take it and he doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’ll change your mind about moving in.” We make it to the master bedroom and he playfully pulls me inside. “You have to see the bed. It’s the best part. Well there’s one part that’s better, but you’ll have to beg to see that.” He scoops me up and tosses me on the bed. He starts tickling my knees like he used to do when we were in high school and I can’t catch my breath. Finally he stops, but his hands linger on my thighs. He is so damn manipulative and charming, and I am at such a low right now. Part of me wonders why I don’t just give in. It’s not as if being with him again would add to my number count. Why am I resisting so much? I’m moving at the end of summer. I have a built-in out.

  Just then, his phone buzzes. “I’ve got to take this. Don’t move. It won’t take long.” He walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, but I can still hear every word he says. “Don’t be mad. Don’t. Something came up…work…I’ll make it up to you on Sunday. I promise. Of course, you know me. See you then, babe.” The door opens and he jumps back on the bed next to me as if the call never happened. I can hear both sides of his conversation in my mind. I’ve been in that conversation with him, how many times?

  “Your partne
r in non-celibacy?” I ask. I expect him to try to lie, but he doesn’t.

  “She’s just someone to fill my time until you see the light. I’d end it with her right now if you commit to us. Move in with me.” He smiles that cocky smile and tries to melt me with the dirty look in his blue eyes.

  I wish I could believe him. I get off the bed and smile back at him shaking my head. Will he ever change? At least he didn’t try to lie about the call. “You promised me some boxes.”

  “I did.” He stares at me a moment longer, as if analyzing my thoughts, then gets up and walks to the garage. I guess he must sense I’m not going to commit today.

  I follow.

  ***

  By the time Alli and Jessica appear in my doorway, Chase and I have most of my room boxed.

  “You’re moving today? I thought we were all staying until the lease was up?” asks Jessica. She looks pissed.

  “Yep.” I stuff my comforter from my bed into the box Chase just staged without looking up.

  “She’s moving in with me,” says Chase nonchalantly as he tapes the bottom of another box.

  I lift my head to meet Alli’s eyes. “I’m not moving in with Chase. He’s helping me move home. Apparently Sarah and Jon feel I am the person who leaked their love secrets to the press. I’m not. I figure if I move out of the house I can no longer be blamed for their problems. You two can draw straws on who gets blamed next.” I know I sound bitter, but I don’t care. I am bitter. I grab an empty box and push past them. “I’ve got to get my stuff from the kitchen.”

  “Don’t let Jon’s paranoia control you. You don’t have to move out. It’s their problem, not yours,” says Alli as she trails behind me on the stairs.

  “Well, Sarah called and uninvited me to the wedding, so it kind of is my problem. I’d rather not know about what is going on in their life, and frankly, I don’t care anymore.”

  “Sarah will come around. She had to expect the paparazzi to up their game as the wedding nears.”

  I round the corner into the kitchen, setting the box on the counter. “Didn’t you see the article that came out this week? It’s pretty explicit. It wasn’t just the paparazzi upping their game. It was personal, but it wasn’t me. I’m just removing myself from the equation. Text me and I’ll come back to help with the final cleaning.” I open my cupboard and start loading my food into the box.