Carnival Nights: Carnival #2

by Nelson, K. B.

  It’s not often that I see him this upset. He turns to me with a potent combination of rage and fear, with a glimmer of sadness mixed in.

  “It’s about last night.”

  “Yeah?”

  He scratches the back of his head. “It was back at the rave. There was a girl, Roxie. The same girl who sold me the drugs.”

  My teeth chew into my lip. “Go on.”

  “After we made that deal, she gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  As long as it had nothing to do with her body...

  “Fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of drugs for five hundred.”

  My jaw drops. My heart pounds. My hands prepare for strangle-position. “You didn’t?”

  His tongue rolls across his lip. “I did.”

  My palms tense. “I’m going to gloss over the fact that you spent all of our money on drugs and skip to the question I already know you have no answer for. Were the hell is it?”

  “I don’t know,” he says softly. “Roxie, the dealer, came over this morning after you were all asleep and we made a deal.”

  “That’s great. Real fucking great.” Even as my blood begins to boil, I hold my composure tightly. If I explode like I want to, things will quickly spiral out of hand. Truths will be told, but maybe they’re long overdue.

  “It was a golden opportunity for us to finally live again.”

  “Dealing drugs isn’t a living.”

  “You felt that rush last night, though.” He steps toward me, hoping we can meet at some sort of understanding. “That drug was unlike anything else in the world. You felt free, you felt like you again.”

  “It made me feel a whole host of things, but it’s not good for me. The temporary euphoria isn’t worth a damn thing if I wake up feeling like hell every morning.”

  “Then why do you do it?” he asks in a condescending tone.

  I turn to Gina, who sits wide-eyed and uncomfortable. “Gina, can you step outside? Go check on Cookie or something.”

  She nods and quickly vacates. My eyes follow her out of the room until she shuts the door.

  “You ask why I do it? Do you really want to know?”

  He nods.

  Cue explosion. “Because it makes me happy!” I scream. Going from zero to eighty in a fraction of a second. “Because it’s the only fucking thing that makes me feel alive!”

  Blue stands speechless. I know he wants to comfort me, but has no idea how. He’s right. There’s nothing he can do to smooth this over right now. “When I’m high, it’s the only time I feel anything other than hate. I hate myself. I promise you that I do. I hate that this is my life, standing in this motel room, arguing with you.”

  “I don’t...”

  “Don’t what?” I ask. “Don’t know what to say?”

  “It seems you have a lot on your mind. So let’s hear it.” He shifts his weight backwards and leans against the dresser. He plays the role of a strong guy, but the way he grips the edge of the dresser with his palms, tells me that he’s not as ready to hear this as he says he is.

  “I love you. God, I fucking love you and it hurts because I know I shouldn’t.” His body sinks, his head bows. My heart tells me that I should stop right there because I’m about to hurt the man I love. But I’m unable to stop. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. Not my friends. Not my family. But at some point, I should have said no. I should have listened to my head and not my heart.”

  “I’m sorry,” he interjects. His voice is shaky and on the verge of despair.

  I meet his face with my palm. “I can’t change the past and I can’t change the way I feel about you.” I take a beat, collecting my thoughts. Assembling my words. “I’m stuck with you and it’s not the worst fate in the world, but there is always going to be that ticking bomb in the back of my head that’s screaming, what if?”

  “Can we discuss this later?” he asks me, clearly uncomfortable and out of his element. “Because, like it or not, we have bigger problems to deal with.”

  “Fine,” I roll my tongue across my cheek and plop myself onto the bed. “Let’s figure out how we’re going to fix your latest fuck-up.”

  He throws a glare my way and I turn away. An instant bout of guilt churns in my gut. “It was Shane. He stole the drugs.”

  “That’s the most logical conclusion,” I say.

  “We’re going to be all right.” The bed sinks beside me and he places an arm around me. “I’ll find a way to fix this. Fix us.”

  My head sways in disillusionment; my faith in things working out is all but gone. A kiss against my head makes me feel a little better, but not enough to put an end to my truth-bomb rant. “You know I lie to myself, and then I lie some more. But when I woke up this morning, and things took the turn they did, I realized that I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Well, we lost our jobs so we don’t really have a choice right now.”

  An out-of-nowhere tear rolls down my cheek and Blue wipes it away with his thumb. I lean towards his touch, remembering a time when we never fought. Overall, though, I think we’ve done pretty well in that arena. This is what? Our second fight? And it’s not really a fight so much as an exhibit of my unstable emotions.

  I turn to Blue. “What are you going to do?” I ask. “Are you going to kill Shane.”

  “Do you really think of me as a killer?”

  “No, but I don’t know a lot about anything more.”

  “Under the circumstances, I’m going to let that one go.”

  The most welcome relief in times of emotional turmoil is laughing. And it comes at just the right moment as a light laugh escapes my swollen throat. “Thanks, Killer Joe.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you,” he says as he brushes his thumb against my cheek. “But we need to go.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHARLIE

  A game of musical chairs is what this is. Blue slams his fist against the horn, causing me to jerk away from the torturous blaring. Blue and I packed everything we own—which isn’t much—in a matter of minutes. Gina and Cookie are currently upstairs, taking far too long doing what they should have been able to do in a hurry. Blue slams on the horn again. He’s getting more impatient, more agitated.

  “Can you please stop honking?” I ask through a groan and rub my forehead. He smirks and shakes his head, a reminder of the thick, palpable cloud of tension that rests in the space between us. While packing, we agreed to let everything go until we’re far enough out of town to think straight. But that’s not an agreement that is easily kept. My mind still races. “You know why I said what I did, right?” I ask, without looking at him. I stare at my reflection in the passenger side mirror. It’s a haunting portrait filled with darkness.

  “We agreed to not talk about it, so let’s just leave it at that.”

  “It’s about everything we’ve lost.” At this point, I’m not talking to him. Rather, I’m just talking out loud. It’s the only way to separate the truth from fiction in my roaring mind. “Everything I... Everything we left behind. Dylan and your dad. I don’t know how to reconcile who we are with what we’ve lost.”

  I feel him shift in his seat. I feel the burn of his gaze upon me. “My dad?” he questions.

  Fuck. I pull my eyes tight, hoping to entrench the tears so I’m able to carry on this broken charade. Telling him the truth now would be devastating to our already fucked up predicament. The gates have been opened, and it’s going to be one hell of a fight to contain the truth.

  “What are you talking about?” he questions again.

  And I have no choice but to face him. When I do, the snakes twist around my innards, choking the life out of me. I can feel the changing tides of the color of my face. The paleness sinks in and I probably look like a ghost. Fitting.

  “Can we talk about this later?”

  “What are you hiding?”

  I swallow a mixture of air and guilt. “Blue...”

  His fingers wrap around the wheel. “Charlie...” />
  “I wanted to tell you for so long.”

  His grip tightens. “Tell me what?”

  “It’s about Rake.”

  He shakes his head, the truth settling in. He knows what comes next and I have no need to continue on. A weight is lifted from my body, but I’d rather be tied to the bottom of the ocean. Anywhere but here in this Jeep. I can’t watch him break. It’ll shatter what little is left of us.

  “No,” he says. The muscles in his throat are visible as they pull tight. He’s fighting to breathe, fighting to ward off the inevitable rage. “You had no right.”

  I bow my head in shame and anger, both toward myself. “I know.”

  His fist slams against the horn. Then again. I’m not sure which is louder, the obnoxious horn or his fist slamming against the wheel.

  A bag is tossed into the backseat. Cookie and Gina hop in at the exact fucking wrong time. “Chill out, dude,” Cookie says. “We’re here.”

  Blue doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He beats the wheel once more before pulling back and rolling his hand into a fist. There’s wrath in his eyes. He’s pissed at me, but the wrath is tangled with sadness. The corner of his eyes water.

  “Okay...” Cookie says. “What did I miss?”

  Blue wipes his eyes and turns the ignition. “Nothing.”

  Then we peel out against the gravel, sending rocks behind us.

  * * *

  “Turn left,” Gina yells as Blue speeds down a residential neighborhood going at least fifty. He misses the turn and slams the breaks, making a hard left at the next road. I pull my seat belt over my shoulder and shove it into place. There’s nothing I can do to calm him so I cross my fingers and pray we get to our destination safely. Then pray some more that what comes next, goes off without a hitch.

  “How close are we?” Blue asks grimly. His palms have turned red from gripping the wheel so tight.

  “We’re close.” Gina leans forward from the back seat. “But you need to take it easy on the gas.”

  “Do me a favor,” Blue says. “Sit back.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re going to kill us.”

  Blue shakes off a laugh. “We wouldn’t even be in this position if it weren’t for your thieving boyfriend.”

  “Me?” Gina shrieks in my ear causing me to flinch. “Don’t put this shit on me. It was your idea to go to that stupid rave. That’s why we were late for work. That’s why we lost out jobs, not because of Shane.”

  “You know what, Gina? How about you just sit back there, look pretty, and tell me when to turn?”

  “Fine.” She throws herself backward into her seat.

  “She’s got a point, Blue.”

  He chuckles uncomfortably to himself.

  “I’m being serious. Shane’s not the reason we got drunk. He’s not the reason we got high. He’s a whole world of trouble, but all you’re doing is placing blame where it doesn’t belong.”

  He bites into his lip harshly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Well, I agree with that. It doesn’t matter how we got here. The point is, we’re here, and I’m terrified what’s at the end of here.

  “Right,” Gina calls from the backseat. This time, Blue makes the turn, but we almost flip as we pivot onto Maple Street. “And we’re here.”

  Blue slams the breaks and pulls the Jeep up against the curb. When he shifts the gear into park, the entire car jerks. And before I can unbuckle my belt, he’s already popped his door open.

  “Everyone, stay here,” he says as he pushes a gun into his waistband. “This won’t take long.”

  Someone should probably go with him, but I think everyone’s too afraid. This is a resurgence of the old Blue and only Cookie knows what he’s fully capable of doing.

  Ahead of us, the sun begins to lower itself over Maple Street. The end of the road disappears into a blinding bomb of bright light. In that bright light, I find memories of solace. Since the time I’ve met him, I’ve been confronted with trials and tribulations, but there has always been that strong, emotional bond that keeps me by his side. It’s unbreakable, but even bulletproof glass eventually shatters.

  * * *

  ONE MONTH AGO

  Blue stands behind me with his palm cradling my hip. “You need to widen your stance,” he says. His breath against my neck ignites me, putting me in any other mood than a fighting mood.

  My fists hover in the air, prepared to strike an imaginary enemy. It’s like I’m a child again, back when imaginary friends were as real as leaves falling in Autumn. Except now, the only thing I see is the blackness casting shadows over the empty fairgrounds.

  “Now, throw a punch and hit him.”

  “Hit who?” I ask. “There’s nobody standing there.”

  “Pretend that there is.”

  “And what if I can’t?” I spin to face him, breaking my fighting stance. He looks so tiny standing before the gargantuan Ferris wheel. The last of the lights went out about an hour ago, but in the air are remnants of neon lights and echoes of child-like cries.

  “How hard is it to pretend that there is someone standing there?”

  “You’re all I see, Blue. When I look at the colors, I don’t see the world anymore. All I see is you.”

  His brow furrows. “Where did that come from?” he asks with a loving smile.

  “It’s just something that’s been on my mind.”

  “Well,” his tongue rolls across his lip, “you can’t save that kind of talk for the bedroom?”

  I land a playful punch against his chest. He stumbles back, clutching his wound in faux pain. “So you can’t hit Casper the friendly ghost, but you can lunge at me? I’m starting to think you have some pent up aggression.” His smirk lights up the grounds, his smile chomping against my heart.

  “I’m going to kick your ass,” I say and ready my fists.

  “Sure, ya are.”

  When he winks, I throw myself at him, locking my arm around his neck before throwing him to the ground. Of course, I fall to the ground with him, but I enjoy feeling him trying to squirm free from beneath me. “Hey, Blue...”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can’t you save the squirming for the bedroom?”

  “Ah.” He pounds his open palm against the dirt three times—a sign of surrender if my I-watched-wrestling-once memory is correct. I let go of him and roll onto my back. He immediately flips so that his body rests on top of me. “You know I let you take me down, right?’

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I say, “but you got your ass beat by a girl.”

  “You’re not just an ordinary girl.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I mean it.” He strokes his fingers through my hair before pushing it out of my face. “You said that all you can see is me. Do you want to know what I see?”

  I shrug and shift my body against the ground to find a more comfortable position. He seems to sink further into me, the weight of his body a comfort that can’t be bought. “What do you see?”

  “I see a girl stronger than any girl I’ve ever known.” He pauses and slips his lips against mine, just long enough for a quick peck. “I see the most beautiful girl I ever laid eyes on.” He lands another kiss. This time, when he pulls away, I want to shut him up and kiss him until the sun rises. His compliments are great, but his lips are full of wonder. “But most of all, I see a fighter. A girl who will never give up, even when it seems the rest of the world is against her.”

  “Blue...”

  “I see exactly who you are, Charlie. You’re a beautiful fucking fighter.”

  With my lips, I shut him up. When we’re connected like this, I forget about the rest of the world, because the only thing I see when my eyes are closed is the truth.

  And the truth is that I love this man more than even God could ever know. I’d fight until my last breath for this boy, and then I’d fight some more.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BLUE

  Loss-fueled adrenaline pumps thro
ugh my veins. Every step toward the front door of this run-down shack is another step toward absolution. One problem bleeds into the next. Gina and Charlie were right when they said this wasn’t all Shane’s fault. But he’s at fault for being a thief, taking something that was never his.

  Similarly, Shane is not at fault for what happened to my dad. That rests on the shoulders of those involved—Cookie, Rake, Trey, my dad, and myself. Charlie’s not to blame for his death, but through my rage, I know why she withheld the truth. She didn’t want to see the haunted look that passes across my face as I place my hand on the doorknob.

  The door creaks open to a steady stop. The first thing I notice is the sunlight streaming through the windows illuminating particles of dust that float through the confines of a dark room. A coffee table is parked between two floral-print couches from another decade. On that table is what looks like a bump of coke, as well as a still-burning cigarette that sits in an ashtray.

  He’s still here.

  I push deeper into the small house and into the kitchen. It’s desolate with only a single stool sitting against a huge window. The cabinets are all worn and the appliances beyond outdated. I’m drawn to the window, stained from years of neglect. Outside, in the backyard, is a broken-down play set.

  I think back to the childhood I never really had. A childhood that was far from normal. A single swing sways in the wind and I realize I’ve never experienced the childhood thrill of exploring new heights. I’ve never had to kick my way to freedom, which is ironic because I’ve always had to work hard. Playtime—riding rides—was always automatic. I was always the passenger, and never the driver in my exploration of youth.

  A noise, something along the lines of a creaking sound, steals my attention to the right. There’s a half-open door leading into what looks like a bedroom. I stalk slowly toward the dinged-up door and push it open gently.

  To my surprise, the room is well-taken care of. There’s a set of sheets on the bed that’s half made. Beside the bed is a set of drawers stacked sideways against the wall, stuffed full of neatly folded clothes. I’m beginning to question if this is even Shane’s house, but if that were the case, why would Gina bring me here?