Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  “I might go back,” Jason said. “Don’t tell Holly. I’m only here because she wouldn’t shut up about it. Thinks we’re gonna ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.”

  “Who is she?”

  Jason and DeeAnn had prepared the lie, and now it rolled smoothly off his tongue. “One of AJ’s girls. Got into a fight with a regular. He’s not happy, wanted blood. I figured it was time for an overdue vacation.”

  Jason watched for a reaction to AJ’s name, but Shot didn’t even blink. Shot didn’t seem to know that AJ was dead.

  “She’s hot,” Shot said. “But it’s still just pussy. Can’t be worth pissing AJ off.”

  Jason bristled, and Shot held up his hands. “Your business, man.”

  “AJ’s the one who told me to take her away,” Jason said.

  “You fucking her?”

  “Yeah.” Jason hadn’t planned to lie, and good thing; his reflexive response when Shot called her “just pussy” had surely given him away. “She’s a nice girl. I’m gonna get her set up somewhere and then head home.”

  “Look who’s the smart man now.” Shot slipped a phone from his back pocket. “Remember how hot Anita used to be?”

  Used to be? “She looks better than ever.”

  “I dunno. The weight makes her look older. Bitch could have passed for underage until about a year ago. Then it all caught up with her. She ain’t really my type anymore. Too… I dunno.”

  Too adult? Jason wanted to say. He hadn’t known about Shot’s proclivities. Anita had definitely been an adult when they started hooking up.

  He could guess what would have happened if DeeAnn were present for this conversation. She flipped her shit if Jason accelerated at a yellow light. He grinned, imagining her ripping Shot a new asshole.

  Shot murmured into the phone. Jason leaned against a counter and took a long pull from the beer. He didn’t recognize the brewery, but he liked the flavor, a kind of bitter rye.

  “Be right back,” Shot said to Jason, though he was still on the phone. “Gotta check on something.”

  Alone in the kitchen, Jason wandered over to the window. The back yard was cultivated, cared for, unlike the rundown front exterior of the house. Shot was a good businessman. Canny. He knew to keep his head down and avoid attention.

  DeeAnn and Anita were sitting on Adirondack loungers. DeeAnn had kicked off her low-cut white sneakers. Even from this distance, Jason could see the green of her pedicure. He laughed and took another swig.

  He felt bad for Anita. He only knew her through Shot. She’d seemed to love the guy, once upon a time, putting up with his nonstop cheating.

  Shot walked up behind him. Jason resisted the urge to flinch, to turn so that his back wasn’t exposed.

  “Look at those legs,” Shot said appreciatively. “How old is she?”

  “Almost twenty-three.”

  “Looks good, though.” The women were laughing hysterically at something. “Those two are hitting it off. There a chance we can set something up with them?”

  Jason couldn’t imagine DeeAnn embracing a threesome of any configuration. “Unlikely.”

  “You mind if I try?”

  “Actually, I do.” Jason finished his beer, set it down, and faced Shot. “Should we do the photos now?”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “We’re tired.”

  “Yeah, you said on the phone you’ve been on the road. Why waste the money on a hotel when we’ve got plenty of room right here? Been renovating the place. Don’t you think it’s nice?”

  “I promised Holly a hotel with room service,” Jason said. The pathetic excuse was the first thing that popped into his mind. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined being invited to stay the night.

  “Women,” Shot said. He tilted his head, squinted at Jason. “What are you taking? Growth hormone?”

  “Iron plates,” Jason said. “Every day.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Jason shrugged. “I’m not lifting much heavier than when you lived in Rhodell Heights.”

  “I need to get back in shape,” Shot said. “Too busy out here. Don’t have the time.” He gave Jason a long look. “Really, what are you taking?”

  Jason had already answered that question. He opened the refrigerator and took out two more beers, opened them, and handed one to Shot, who had emptied his first bottle in about ten seconds.

  “My friend’s gonna hook you up with the passports,” Shot said. “Nine hundred for both. They’ll past muster everywhere but the border.”

  “All right.”

  “I told him you’re a good friend and we go way back.”

  Jason nodded his thanks.

  “I can make the birth certs and licenses tonight.” Shot finished his second beer and went for a third. “Details?”

  “Holly wants to keep her first name,” Jason said. “Give her a common last name. Jones or Smith.”

  “Common? How about Chen? It’s the most common surname in the world.”

  “You learn something every day.”

  “Just fucking with you. Now, I know you’re planning to go back to Rhodell Heights, and this is just for Holly’s sake. You could do the two passports for nine hundred, like I said. But I’ve got a better setup for you. James Weeble. My buddy’s already bought the full suite. Grad student behind on his rent, no drug problems, no flags. And the guy could be your twin. He’s shorter by maybe two inches, so take off the heels if you get pulled over. It’ll cost extra, being real ID.”

  Jason doubted Weeble looked much like him. “What’s the damage?”

  “Four grand.”

  Jason didn’t have to fake his shock. “That’s a lot more than I was expecting,” he said.

  “You can afford it.” Shot stepped away, but Jason grabbed his arm, pulled him back.

  “Four grand is too much. I don’t know what makes you think I’ve got cash to burn.”

  Shot slammed down his beer. “Cut the bullshit. I gave you a chance to be honest. You think I don’t know how to use a phone?”

  Jason studied the man for a moment. “What did you hear?”

  “You killed some Jack Rebels and took off with their money. Millions.”

  Jason didn’t react. He’d understood there was a chance of Shot knowing, either through gossip or because he’d reached out after their phone calls. He was surprised Shot didn’t know about AJ and the others being killed. It wasn’t in the press, but anyone Shot knew should have heard by now.

  “Holly is a surprise, though,” Shot said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

  Chapter 36

  “Move over,” Anita says, standing.

  I pull my legs in, and Anita plops onto the sturdy wooden chair. She glances at the house, then passes me the joint.

  I take a drag and even though I try to hold the pungent smoke in my lungs, I end up coughing like I swallowed something down the wrong pipe. “Sorry,” I squeak, passing it back.

  “It’s been a long time, huh?” She inhales, waits, slowly exhales, her dark eyes shut and a smile on her lips. I think maybe she’s off in some other world and has forgotten me, but then she says, “So, you and Jason, huh?”

  Finally. Trying not to sound eager, I ask, “Oh, I bet you knew him before you left?”

  “Not well, but I knew his reputation.” She offers me the joint. When I shake my head, she places it on the edge of the chair.

  My mind races, trying to figure out a way to ask questions without advertising that I don’t really know Jason.

  “You’re pretty,” she says. “You look like that girl in the Star Wars movies.” She holds up her hands, thumbs connected, making a virtual frame around my face. “You should be in magazines. Have you considered it?”

  “I wanted to, when I was younger,” I admit. “But I don’t have the right look.”

  “You’re way prettier than most of those horse-faced girls. I’d buy anything you were selling. You should have a channel, do makeup tutorials, get spo
nsored.”

  “You don’t need makeup,” I say.

  Anita snorts. “I used to be prettier,” she says, and puffs on the joint. “Then I moved out here. Madison is lovely, but this neighborhood is the sweaty crotch of the world. You’re the first normal person I’ve talked to in weeks.”

  “You think I’m normal? You really are out of touch.”

  That makes her crack up. She slumps onto my knees.

  “Move over,” she says. “This is killing my back.”

  I wiggle to the side, turn onto one hip, and pat the empty space beside me. “Come up here.” Somehow, Anita squeezes her full figure beside me on the chair. Now we’re side by side, our legs stretched out.

  The joint is barely a nub now. Anita holds it out to me. I try to wave it away, but she jerks her hand toward me a few times.

  This time I take it easier. My chest spasms, but I’m able to hold the smoke in my lungs. Already I feel thin tendrils of calm lacing into my blood. “This is good stuff,” I say, and go back for more.

  “Didn’t think it was possible, but Jason is hotter than ever.” Anita rolls her eyes and takes back the joint. “Now Shot’ll go on a diet and start lifting again. He’ll blame me, say I’m putting too much oil in the food. Motherfucker only eats vegetables if I sneak them in under his french fries, but it’s my fault he got pudgy.”

  Her tone is light, but there’s a sharp edge of annoyance.

  “But you two must love each other,” I say, feeling awkward for the first time since meeting Anita.

  She waggles her hand. “Eh.”

  “Really?” Now it’s my turn to check behind us. “Why stay, then?”

  “I shouldn’t tell you this, but I plan to leave. You know, the only reason I came out here is ’cause Shot promised to help me build a clientele. Instead, he’s got me doing his work. Says no one would trust a woman, but that’s bullshit.”

  “What do you do?” I ask.

  “Forgeries.” She swats away a fly. “And Mom said my art degree was useless.” It rolls off her tongue, a well-worn joke, clearly trotted out often, but I laugh. It erupts like a cackle, which is funny, and then we’re both laughing.

  Anita carefully tucks the nubby remains of the joint into her bra. “I’ve almost got enough for a roach joint,” she says. I have no idea what that is, though I can guess. But the words “roach joint” make me giggle because it sounds like a swanky place where roaches hang out.

  “I can see why Jason likes you,” Anita says. “You glow with pure, mystical energy.” Then she snorts and starts laughing again. “Really, it’s because you’re hot. But you do have an aura.”

  “What color is it?” I ask, curious even though normally I would just roll my eyes.

  She peers at me. “Green. No… That’s the tree behind you.”

  I lose it then, laughing until my sides ache, and Anita is laughing, too, my companion on this strange journey. When we finally stop, I’m breathless, my throat and mouth parched.

  “The iced tea is good,” I say after a few unladylike gulps.

  “Now I know why he likes you. You can swallow, girl.” And that sets us off again.

  Eventually we sober up, and the acute buzz is wearing off, leaving a peaceful euphoria behind. This must be how normal people feel, instead of being jacked up on anxiety and worry all the time. Maybe, when I get settled, I’ll find a shrink, see about talk therapy and maybe medication.

  “You deserve to be happy,” I say to Anita. “When we leave, you should come with us.” I reflect for a moment. “And the dog.”

  “It was pot, not crack,” Anita says.

  “I’m not high,” I say. “I just believe life is too short to be with someone you don’t love.”

  “We can’t all get men like Jason.”

  I wave my hand dismissively. “We’re sleeping together, but it’s not serious. I don’t even know his last name.”

  “Names ain’t shit,” Anita says. “Trust me on that. And here’s something you can take to the bank: Jason is into you.” She raises her voice over my protests. “I’m not saying he’s gonna fall on one knee and propose, but he likes you. I’ve seen him with women before, and usually if he’s not looking at them, he forgets they’re even there. But he’s always aware of you.”

  “You watched us for two seconds.”

  “First, it was longer than that, and second, it was enough. And third”—she’s been counting down, and now she’s waggling her middle finger at me—“he brought you here. I don’t know what you two are running from—”

  “Funny story, actually—”

  Anita cuts me off. “I don’t need to know. But Jason looks out for numero uno. Either his survival depends on you, which I highly doubt, no offense, or you’re one of his people.” She tilts her head. “Do you really not see it?”

  My heart hammers in my chest, but I can’t believe what she’s saying is true. She’s high and possibly has been drinking as well, and she’s just being nice.

  When I don’t answer, she shrugs. “I guess you never knew him before you knew him. Jason’s a good guy, but he’s kinda cold. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  Actually, I do know what she means, but if Jason is different, it’s because he’s running for his life and screwing over a bunch of very dangerous people. I can’t tell Anita that, so I mumble, “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Damn skippy I’m right. One of my girlfriends dated him.” She smirks. “For three months, I had to hear about his huge cock.”

  “God,” I mutter, embarrassed.

  “He broke her heart.”

  “How?”

  “The usual. She wanted more, he didn’t.” A wicked smile turns her pretty face devilish. “You know what could be fun, if we can swing it? If you stay for dinner!”

  “Dinner?”

  “And you can sleep here tonight. We’ve got plenty of space.”

  I look at the house, as if the right response will be written in the slightly peeling paint. Something tells me Jason won’t want to stay the night here. I sure don’t, even though I really like Anita.

  But dinner? That sounds harmless, and the food has to be better than what we’ve been eating.

  “You’re so generous, but we’ve got errands to run early in the morning,” I say. “Dinner sounds good, though, if it’s not too much work.”

  “Deal.” Anita bolts to her feet. “You make the salad and I’ll whip up a stir-fry. But not yet.”

  I nod even though I don’t want stir-fry. Not after that oily Chinese buffet.

  Anita opens the pastry box, which I’d completely forgotten about. Inside is a third of a cheesecake. “Damn it,” she says. “I forgot forks.”

  “I’ll fetch them,” I say quickly, thinking it’s a good opportunity to check on Jason and also to make sure he’s fine with dinner.

  “Second drawer to the right of the dishwasher,” Anita says, sitting again. She picks up a loose chunk of graham cracker crust and pops it into her mouth. I catch a whiff of cinnamon.

  As I approach the back door, I see Jason and Shot standing at the table, almost exactly where we left them half an hour ago.

  “Don’t bullshit me about not having the cash,” Shot says. “I’m trying to hook you up.”

  Jason catches sight of me and shakes his head almost imperceptibly, but Shot turns around and motions for me to come in.

  “We were just talking about you,” Shot says. “Join us.”

  I look at Jason.

  “It’s all right,” he says, and I step inside.

  The door bangs behind me. Sliding my hands into my back pockets, I try to remain calm. A million possible scenarios run through my head, but it turns out I don’t have to wait for an explanation.

  “I don’t know who you are,” Shot says, “but I know why Jason is running. Tell your boyfriend to pay what I want for the documents.”

  His words suck the air out of my chest. It doesn’t matter that my identity is still safe. I won’t get far withou
t Jason. If he’s compromised, so am I.

  Anita tears into the kitchen. “Goddamn mosquitoes,” she says. “If you’re not going to be careful about standing water, I’m going to bathe in citronella every day until the end of the summer.”

  “Shut up,” Shot says.

  I’m not facing Anita, so I don’t see her initial reaction. But when she says, “What did you say to me?” I wince. This is the last thing Jason and I need right now.

  “I told you to shut up,” Shot says.

  “Get the fuck out of my kitchen,” Anita screams, and I take a small step toward Jason.

  Shot grabs the plastic box from the table and jerks his head, indicating that we should follow him to the dining room. I’m the only one left, and I don’t want to look at Anita. Shot was beyond rude, telling her to shut up, and she turned the dial up to max; her shriek is still ringing in my ears.

  But I do glance behind me. She’s hunched over, gripping the countertop so tightly that her knuckles are white. Her face, in contrast, is red, and tears are streaming down her cheeks.

  I want to go to her, to comfort her. Maybe she’s struggling, or maybe Shot is the world’s biggest douchebag, or maybe they have one of those relationships that brings out the worst in each other. The reasons don’t matter. She’s hurting.

  “Holly,” Jason says, his voice low. I tear my gaze and my thoughts away from the crying woman, leaving her in the kitchen to get a fork for the cheesecake or maybe a knife for Shot’s neck; it could go either way.

  “Actually, let’s talk in the basement,” Shot says when I enter the dining room. “It’s more private down there.”

  Surely not? I think, shooting Jason a pleading look. He can’t think this is a good idea?

  He, however, doesn’t seem worried. Merely… grim.

  And that worries me, too, because what if he’s just waiting for the right moment to kill Shot? I mean, this is Jason, a man whose single most defining personality trait is always taking the most utilitarian, direct approach.

  Despite my misgivings, we go back through the kitchen—I can feel Anita glaring at Shot—and into the basement, which is really a rec room, with a pool table, dartboard, wet bar, plus the obligatory gigantic TV with padded sofas set around it like an alien race worshiping their god.