“So? Jesus, so the fuck what if he can tell you used to be different. That you know how to handle yourself—which by the way, is all he was really able to see. If you look hard enough, it’s not that hard to figure that you’re not a delicate fucking flower, Naim.”
“Bullshit.” Naim blinked at the floor. “He knew things, Deck. What does he know about me that he can say he knows who I am and where I come from?” he sighed.
Deck blinked at him for a full minute. He couldn’t argue that. Play-Doh had said things that made it sound as though he knew about Naim. “But there’s no way he could know so how…?”
“He can see it, Deck. He knows because we’re alike. Just because he lives the way he does, doesn’t mean he’s not smart and shrewd. He sees my history written all over me.” Naim followed Deck’s thoughts. “And he sees it because he knows I want to watch the world burn with him.”
Deck shook his head. “No. No, you don’t. You don’t have time for assholes, but you don’t want to destroy things. Naim, you’re a healer, for fuck’s sake. That’s what doctors do.”
Naim looked up at him again, his eyes cold and empty like before. “I’d put a bullet in Wes Rizel’s head in a heartbeat, Deck.” Deck blinked and frowned, startled by his words. “I’d cut his throat, then stand there and watch him bleed out. Watch the life drain out of his eyes.” He took another drag off his cigarette. “If I could get away with it, I’d kill him or anyone else like him without a second thought, Deck.” He paused long enough to ensure that Deck looked at him. “And you know I mean it.”
After a minute, Deck nodded. “Okay. Yeah. If…if you could get away with it, yeah. People like him they’re…they’re parasites and I get that you’d want to—”
“I’m not saying I want to, Deck. I’m saying I would.” His temper flared. “I hurt a lot of people when I was in Marseille, and obviously I don’t have a fucking problem with letting people die if I can’t be bothered.”
“What do you mean, obviously. You never let anyone willingly die. Not like—I mean…” Deck insisted, confused. But he knew as soon as the words came out that he’d opened the wrong door.
“You know I did, Deck.” Naim glared. “You know goddamn well I did, so don’t play stupid.”
Deck shook his head again. “No. Are you kidding?” He stood and stared at Naim in disbelief. “There’s no way you mean Étienne.”
“Of course I mean Étienne.” Naim snorted, then sneered. “And it goes to prove that I don’t change, and that I don’t fucking learn, Deck. That I’m not this man that you want me to be.”
“Naim.” Deck swallowed back on the lump in his throat. He knew this was dangerous territory for them both, but it tore him open to know that Naim based this skewed and distorted view of himself on his guilt over Étienne’s death. Even Deck didn’t think of himself as a shitty human being because he’d let Adam die. A piece of shit of a brother, yeah, but not a shitty human being. “Naim, you didn’t kill him. You didn’t want him to die.”
“No, but I left him there to die alone, knowing too fucking well that he was barely hanging on. I knew what I was doing.” Naim stared out onto the city, unable to look at Deck. When Deck started to speak, Naim interrupted. “And don’t compare it to Adam because you were trying to keep him safe. He made his own conscious choice to save your life.”
“The fuck different is that from Étienne choosing to send you away, then choosing to use?” Deck knew he pushed too far, and he didn’t care.
“Watch your fucking mouth.” Naim’s head snapped around, and he glared. “It’s different because you had a split second to understand what the fuck was going on. You didn’t have enough time to make a fucking decision, or change the decision that Adam made. I had five fucking years, and I knew every day. Every day for five years I made the choice to abandon him.” His voice cracked, and Deck couldn’t tell if it was from grief or rage. “I chose to let him die, Deck. And that’s someone I ostensibly cared for.” He looked outside again. “How the fuck do you think you’re gonna end up?” he mumbled.
Deck started at his last words, trying to keep up and process everything that Naim said. He knew Naim felt guilt over Étienne and hated himself for not being there for him, but he never really understood that Naim held himself responsible for Étienne’s death. That he truly believed that he’d just…let Étienne die.
And he believed that somehow, some way, he would hurt Deck just as badly.
“Deck.” Naim’s voice interrupted his stunned thoughts. “I’m a selfish man. I’m selfish, and I’m lazy, and I really only look out for myself. You want the clinic to be some noble gesture of altruism on my part, but I never really knew what it was. Doheany finally made sense of that for me today.” He pitched his cigarette butt over the balcony and stepped inside, moving past Deck to the kitchen table. He fell more than sat as he spoke. “I’m even too selfish to not be with you, even though I know you’ll be the one to pay the price someday.”
Deck turned and stared.
“Étienne isn’t the only one I left behind. I’ve been doing that all my life. Someday I’ll do it to you too.” He rubbed at his forehead again and huffed a pitiful laugh. “Probably when you need me the most.”
Deck sat, still staring, trying to figure out if he wanted to shake Naim, slap him, or just sit and cry. “Yeah. Like you did the first time I needed you.”
Naim didn’t pretend like he didn’t know what Deck meant. “I was doing my job.”
“You were hurt and scared, and there were paramedics there, and you still fought with them in order to help me.”
“Because I’m arrogant.”
“Oh Jesus Christ, that’s the fucking truth. You just have a goddamn answer for everything, don’t you?”
Naim closed his eyes and looked sad.
And Deck knew just what he was thinking. “Naim. Play-Doh gets off on hurting people. He enjoys it, and he probably takes money for it. Often. And yeah, maybe you enjoyed it too. I don’t know, but I get that you did hurt people at one time in your life. In the past, Naim.” Deck blinked slowly at him, trying to will him into listening.
“But now you take money to help people and heal them. And sometimes you fucking don’t take money because you had the clinic, and even after you didn’t, you still helped where you could because I remember about Melvin’s nana.” He gave Naim a pointed look as Naim’s head jerked up, and he sneered. “And so the fuck what if you do things to feel less guilty about shit. Who the fuck doesn’t? You think people give money to animal shelters and Save the Children and all that shit because it doesn’t make them feel good? Or because maybe they feel guilty about buying a new iPhone or a new fucking car when people are starving?”
Naim blinked at him, but his expression gave nothing away.
“You’re right, love. You’re not the man I think you are.” Deck peeled at the label of his beer and let Naim absorb that while he took a drink. “You’re the man you are, and we’re both still figuring out who that man is.” He reached out and took Naim’s hand, ducking his head to catch his eye. “But I know that you’re a good man, Naim. You’re fucked up and a little self-absorbed because you live inside your head too much, and you’re really, really not perfect, but who the fuck is?”
Naim blinked and swallowed.
You are.
He kept his thoughts to himself.
Chapter Seventeen
As Deck’s move-in got closer, Naim moved further away from the dark, bitter thoughts stemming from the confrontation with Play-Doh. Instead he focused on helping Deck pack and adjusting to the move.
Deck had been taking his clothes and smaller items over to Naim’s throughout the week, and finally borrowed Liebgott and his truck to help with the bigger things. Now that they had the big things in, he feared that Naim would start to get cranky over boxes piled in his apartment. Luckily Deck grossly overestimated how much stuff he actually had—except for the DVDs and Blu-rays, of course.
“But why do you nee
d all three copies?” Naim looked at the movies in his hands. “I mean, what’s the difference between the Special Edition, and the Two-disc Collector’s Edition?”
Deck sighed patiently, but Laura answered. “Nothing.” She looked at Naim. “It’s just one of those stupid boy things.”
“Laura. I am a boy.”
Deck chuckled, rearranging the movies that Laura was shoving into the cabinet. “Yeah, you are!”
“That’s not what I meant.” She shot Deck a dirty look as they all ignored the swearing coming from the hallway. She turned back to Naim. “It’s a boy thing. You’re a grown-up.”
“Ah.” Naim nodded.
Deck tried to get offended, but he really couldn’t argue with that. “Okay look.” He took the videos from Naim. “See, this one has some of the deleted scenes, right? The ones I told you about with Ripley and her granddaughter.” He put the DVD on the shelf. “Then this one has a bunch of other deleted scenes, and an interview with James Cameron, but I don’t care so much about that ’cause he’s kinda douchy.” He made a face and put the Blu-Ray on another shelf. Naim raised an eyebrow. “And this one has all the other behind-the-scenes stuff. Like The Making of… and shit.”
“And…you need all that?”
Deck made a duh face at him and continued to rearrange videos as Liebgott and Keller wrestled his box spring into the door, cursing profusely. Naim ran over to help, Deck having been banned from heavy lifting. It was stupid really; he had one more week before he knew Glover would finally sign his clearance papers, and he should be able to do things. But everyone told him to shut up and fuck off, so he grumbled over his movie collection.
“Thanks, we got it, Naim.” Liebgott huffed. “It’s just awkward. This damn bed is bigger than the ladder truck.” He grunted as they turned the box spring back on its side and stopped for a minute. “The hell do you need a king-size bed for, Deck?”
“What? I’m big. And it’s comfy.” He was right, and Naim knew it made sense to switch his double out for Deck’s king, but he also knew this was going to be a pain in the ass. The mattress still had to come up, and he felt bad making Keller and Liebgott carry it.
“How about you guys take a break. We’ll get the rest,” Naim told them.
“The rest of what?” Jen asked, wandering out of the second bedroom that she’d just finished setting up as an office/guest room with Naim’s bed.
“The bed. Well, the mattress. From the truck,” Naim told her.
Laura pulled her hoodie and gloves on, ready to go outside. “Help us, Jen?”
“Oh. Of course.” Jen grabbed her sweatshirt off the couch, and the three of them bundled up.
“Are you sure you guys can get it?” Keller asked. “It’s a fucking house baby.” He looked at Jen, knowing better than to scoff. She just gave him a look, smiled, and put her gloves on.
Deck grabbed his scarf off the coat hook by the door and started wrapping it around Naim, who batted at him and pulled away. “We’ll be outside for five minutes, Deck.” He made a face and thought of Jen; he didn’t need two mothers. “Then I’m going to get all sweaty in the hall, I don’t need three hundred layers.”
Deck grinned, and his eyes twinkled.
“Stop.” They headed downstairs, and Deck supervised sliding the box spring into the bedroom. Keller swore more, knocked the thing onto the floor, and went to the kitchen for beer.
“We maybe should have let them carry the box spring instead,” Liebgott said, looking at the gigantic bed. “That mattress is going to be a nightmare.”
“Nah. They can handle it.” Deck dismissed the thought and headed back to the living room, checking to make sure the bathroom door was still shut. They’d brought Sue over last night to try and get him acclimated and not leave him in the mostly empty apartment. He’d flown out of his cat carrier in a crouch, disappeared under the claw-foot bathtub, and hadn’t come out yet. Deck wasn’t worried. Cats were cats. He’d start worrying later though.
Keller was comfortable on the couch, rifling through a box of DVDs, making a pile of the ones he planned on stealing and drinking his beer. “Do you even know how to read, dickface?” He mumbled as Deck snatched up the pile next to him and began putting them away.
“Suck me, fucko.”
“You wish.”
“Are we getting pizza?” Liebgott asked, ignoring them.
“Yeah. We’ll wait until they come up with the bed, see what everybody wants.” Deck replied, frowning at two copies of Braveheart, unable to tell the difference. “The fuck do I have two of these?”
“One of them is mine.” Liebgott yanked one from his hands. “You borrowed it when you couldn’t find yours the last time you moved.”
“That was four years ago.”
“Right.”
Keller laughed and slipped the last season of The Wire into Jen’s purse.
They heard voices and swearing in the hall, so Deck went to open the door. “Hey, what do you guys want for pizza?” he called down to the next landing.
“Um. Get one bugger off and one fuck you.” Naim grunted around a face full of mattress that was smashing his head into the wall.
Deck snorted and ran down to help them. Liebgott and Keller looked at each other and went back to pillaging DVDs. The shouting started a minute later.
“I’M ONLY USING MY RIGHT ARM.”
“GO THE FUCK UPSTAIRS.”
“IF YOU FALL…”
“DECK…FUCKING…” Keller stood, hearing Jen shout and swear, but Liebgott grabbed his arm.
“Let them deal with it. We’ll just piss them off more.”
Keller sighed and stood anxiously. After several loud thumps and then silence for a few seconds, Deck slumped back inside. “They yelled at me.” He pouted, rubbing his ear.
“In your ear?” Liebgott asked, looking up from a copy of Bladerunner.
“Naim flicked me. Hard,” he grumbled, looking at Keller. “Your wife teach him that?”
“Probably.”
“Assleak,” Deck snarled as though Keller were directly responsible for the flicking rather than a frequent victim of it himself.
A string of cursing, impressive and creative enough to make Freya proud, came from the hall, accompanied by the plastic-covered mattress sliding across hardwood.
“Just keep pushing straight. I SAID STRAIGHT.” Laura backed up into the apartment, pulling the monstrosity.
“I AM PUSHING STRAIGHT. Jen. Hold it up,” Naim hollered.
“I AM. IT’S THIRTEEN FEET TALL.” Jen shouted back, half under the tilting mattress. Keller moved to help.
“Bro.” Deck stopped him. “Seriously.” He shook his head and rubbed his ear. “I think they bite.” He backed away from the door and tried to look invisible.
The mattress slid in the door, followed by Naim, who caught his hand between it and the door frame. “FUUUUCK.” He dropped his end, and it fell to the floor, wavering slightly.
Naim, Laura, and Jen stood glaring at it, then almost at once looked to Deck and scowled at him hatefully.
“What.”
“We’re going to die in this apartment. This bed is never moving again. If we leave, I’m setting it on fire.” Naim sounded as if he should be taken seriously.
“You’ll be glad tonight,” Deck offered.
“You won’t.”
Nobody giggled.
He kicked the mattress and stomped to the kitchen, and Laura and Jen bent and started pushing it again. “No!” he yelled at them. “We’re done. Just fucking…leave it there.” He grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and stuck it on his hand, then three beers from the fridge and went back to the living room, handing one each to Laura and Jen. They flopped down on the mattress that now took up the majority of the space.
Naim went back to the breakfast counter and glowered at the pile of boxes surrounding the couch and coffee table and scattered throughout the living room. They’d done some shuffling to make room for the tremendous pine video wardrobe that Deck him
self had proudly made, and really, there wasn’t much else than the bed, his kitchen things, and his TV that went into the bedroom, and his clothes. They’d left the ghastly chair on the street and shoved his sofa into Naim’s cellar. But now the anxiety started to kick in, and it made him cranky.
“Are they all movies?” Naim’s lips were tight around the question.
“Um. A little?” Deck began to feel shitty. “Pizza. Are you hungry, love?” He carefully approached Naim, who was still glaring, leaning his iced hand on the counter.
“Yes. And get it from the good place. Whatsitcalled,” he grumbled.
“Bacino’s?” Laura asked hopefully from the mattress.
“Pompeii.” Deck nodded at Naim. “Right?”
Naim grunted, a bit less cranky. He’d offered to get the bed, after all, and Deck had tried to help. He was being bitchy, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Yeah. Thank you.”
Deck grinned, relieved, and grabbed a menu from a drawer. He threw it at the women sprawled on the bed. “If you spill beer on that thing—”
“Shut up, ass.” Laura growled at him.
“Oh fuck’s sake, Deck,” Liebgott exclaimed, startled and closing up a box quickly. The girls each sat up, and everyone looked at him. Liebgott rarely dropped the f-bomb.
“What?” Deck gave him a look, then saw which box Lieb had opened and run from. “Oh. Heh.”
“What?” Laura asked. “You okay?” She took his hand, a little concerned as he sat down behind her and snuggled her back.
“He’s fine. Just shouldn’t be poking around in my shit.”
“Was it porn?” Jen asked sympathetically, looking up from the menu and turning to Liebgott.
He made an uncomfortable noise, and Keller chuckled silently on the couch. “Don’t open the boxes, man. Just carry shit.”
Naim sat on a stool at the counter. “Really, Deck? You brought your porn?”
“Why not?” Deck shrugged, stepping behind him and leaning on his back. “You don’t have any.”
Smoke and Mirrors Page 32