Golden Hour (Crescent City)

by Campbell Reinhardt

  Dean and I make our way past the piles of dirty clothes, empty bottles, and god knows what else my boots are stepping in in the dark house as we head into the next room.

  “You alright, man?” I ask the shape huddled over and groaning. The patient, sitting in the corner and rocking back and forth, doesn’t answer.

  “This medic is talking to you, dipshit. You can answer him, or you can go to jail,” the cop barks. The guy in the corner jumps a little, then hugs his knees tighter to his chest and moans.

  “I want to go to Crescent City Memorial,” he insists. “I need to see a doctor.”

  “You sick?” I ask, knowing that it’s probable the truth is that he’s just high and freaked out about going to jail, so he’s making shit up like a coward.

  “I need to go to the hospital,” he repeats stubbornly.

  “Look,” the cop says, shaking his head with disgust, “I know this is total bullshit. I know this is all about giving the asshole a pass so we don’t have to take him with us. I don’t have the slightest clue why Dupuis wants to do that for this shithead, but if he gives you any trouble, you haul him straight to the station, you got me?”

  “10-4,” I say, more than happy to provoke this guy into earning himself a fast track pass to the Parish jail rather than a night to sleep off whatever he took in the ER with Elise tending to his every bullshit need.

  “Alright, let’s go.” I snap at the guy still cowering on the floor. “Up and at em.”

  “Don’t I get a stretcher?” the patient sulks, irritatingly childlike with his neediness.

  “You’re gonna get my foot—” I start.

  “The stretcher won’t fit down here,” Dean interrupts, keeping his head and professionalism just like he always does. “We can help you out.”

  I pull Dean back. As usual, he’s so eager to do his best, he’s forgetting to watch out for his own neck.

  “You search him?” I ask Lyons.

  “Yeah, Dupuis did. Said he’s clean.” The cop shakes his head. “You mind your manners with these medics, kid. I’ll be waiting downtown for you to visit me later.”

  Dean grasps onto the patient's arm and leads him out the front door. I can’t wait to get this asshole in the back of the truck and make him wish he would’ve taken the night in jail.

  I load the stretcher in without allowing the patient to sit on it first, then extend the only helping hand he’s going to get to boost him up. It’s then, in the lighted interior of the ambulance, that I get the first good look at him.

  Fucking Bazanac.

  And Charlie’s behavior and willingness to give this patient a pass suddenly make sense. He knows Lawson is a loser, but he carries some of the same loyalty that Elise does to this family.

  Fuck.

  “Get up here,” I say, yanking his arm hard.

  “Easy,” Lawson yelps, giving his fake injury a dramatic rub.

  “Get on the stretcher.” I bark. I pull the doors closed behind us.

  “But I thought—” Dean says.

  “I just want to make sure he’s stable.” I’m stalling. I don’t know what to do with this guy. Try to talk some sense into him? Scare him? Tell him to stay the fuck away from Elise?

  I can smell the alcohol on his breath and coming out of his pores. I can feel the grit of dirt ingrained in his clothes. I yank his t-shirt up with a rough pull and hook him up to the monitor.

  “You’re really going through all the motions, huh?” Dean asks, a mix of admiration and confusion in his voice.

  I lean down next to Lawson, wondering if he recognizes me from the parking lot with Elise.

  Wondering if he remembers further back, to the product he stole from me and my buddies and the sale that went south. Trying to earn that money back before the dealers caught up to me forced me hustle in high risk places, where I was more exposed and it was more likely I’d get caught.

  Wondering if he remembers how we promised we’d make him and his friends pay, although I never got the chance, because I wound up selling to a narc and got my ass shipped to Afghanistan.

  Wondering if he knows that none of that matters to me now, because I’ve actually got something I stand to lose—and that isn’t happening. There’s not a chance in hell.

  “What’d you take?” I growl quickly in his ear.

  “I didn’t take shit,” he snaps.

  “Then why do you need to go to the hospital?” I demand. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Charlie says I need a doctor. Hey, you’re Lissey’s friend, huh?” He snaps his dirty fingers. “I knew you looked familiar.

  I lean in and grab his shirt and twist it around my fist. “You listen to me, you piece of shit. You stay the fuck away from her.”

  “Warren, easy,” Dean says, his voice low and nervous.

  “Go ahead and get in the front, Dean. Call in and let them know we’re headed to Oschner’s,” I say, releasing Lawson and flinging him back onto the stretcher.

  “I want to go to Crescent,” he counters, scrambling up and brushing himself off.

  “Crescent is closer,” Dean points out.

  “I don’t give a shit. Oschner’s or jail. Those are your choices,” I seethe.

  Dean walks around to the front of the truck, leaving the back door open.

  “I want to go Crescent. I want to see Elise.” Lawson’s eyes dart back and forth, and I can smell the panic wafting off of him.

  I don’t give a single fuck what this loser wants. He’s lucky he’s getting a ride to a hospital rather than a jail cell, and he’d do well to keep that in mind. As far as Elise goes, he’s got a snowball’s chance in Hell of getting to her while I’m on watch. “What did I just say? You aren’t going near her.”

  “She’d want to help me.” Lawson glares at me and crosses his arms.

  And he’s right. Which is exactly why we’re not taking him there.

  I get in his face, even though it puts me at risk for losing my cool. I don’t give a shit. There are no rules where Elise is concerned. “There isn’t anything wrong with you that Elise can help with. She’s been through—”

  “Oh, I know what she’s been through, man.” Lawson locks eyes with me, his voice shaking up and down. “Trust me, I know. It’ll fucking kill my parents if I go to jail. I need her help.”

  “With what?” I ask, but I’m already afraid I know the answer.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bag of white powder.

  Fuck.

  I shove his hand with the bag back into his pocket. “What the fuck?” I growl at him. “I thought they searched you.”

  “Charlie isn’t very thorough,” he says with an arrogant shrug.

  Charlie is apparently blind where Lawson is concerned.

  “When we take you to the hospital, they’re gonna put you in a gown. They’re gonna take your belongings and put them in a bag. They will see that shit and you will go to—”

  No way.

  No way would Charlie let this guy slide with drugs and send him Elise’s way for her to cover for him. No matter who he is, no matter what debt he thinks he owes. No fucking way.

  “Give me the shit,” I say holding my hand out. I have to work hard to keep my arm from shaking.

  Lawson balks like the junkie asshole he is. He can claim he wants “help” till he’s blue in the fucking face. The only thing he wants is protection while he uses. And he’s willing to exploit the Dupuis siblings and their naivety to get it. “I’m not giving this up to you, man.”

  “You sure as hell are. You’re gonna give it to me, or you’re gonna ‘lose’ it at the hospital, and—I personally guarantee you this—you will wind up in a cell by night’s end.”

  He mutters long streams of angry shit that I ignore before he hands over the bag and I shove it into my pocket.

  “Fuck you,” he spits.

  I get up, yank the back door closed, then yell to Dean in the front, “Light it up, we’re going to Oschner’s.”

  “She looks
really good.” I fluff the last of Gran’s straggly curls and then spin her around. “Doesn’t she, Charlie?”

  My brother nods. “You look great, Gran.”

  “Libby, why don’t you come and see me more?” Gran asks with a sad sigh.

  Sometimes, Gran’s questions make as little sense to my ears as they do in her mind.

  I’ve come by every other day since she’s been in the Estates, so either she’s trying to tell me that that isn’t often enough, or she actually means that guilt trip for my mother. The latter would make more sense, since I checked the sign-in log at the front desk and Mama hasn’t been by in days, despite her promises that she’d be popping in daily until Gran gets acclimated.

  “I’ll try to come by more, Gran,” I promise, kissing her temple. “And Charlie, here, he will too.”

  I wink at my brother who’s been distracted since I picked him up this morning.

  “I think I may be able to see you even more soon, Gran. Caleb and I have been looking at apartments in the area, and we found a nice one close by. That way, even on my days off, I’d be just around the corner.” I say this all while I keep my eyes on Charlie.

  It’s a cowardly move, telling him that Caleb and I are moving in together in front of Gran, but it’s the only way I could work up the nerve. Caleb offered to tell him, but I can’t think of a worse idea.

  “You can’t be serious,” Charlie bites out, suddenly sitting up ramrod straight in the chair.

  I take a deep breath and look him dead in the eye. “I am.”

  “I thought we talked about this? The guy is a loser,” Charlie says, jumping up and pacing back and forth while he shakes his head.

  I start to put Gran’s rag mags in order, arranging them by size and date, the glossy stars’ faces flipping quickly under my fingers. “You talked. I listened. I disagree.”

  “When is supper?” Gran asks in a high, sweet voice.

  I check my watch. “It’s only ten in the morning now, Gran. It’ll be a while. I bet you’re having something good for lunch, though.”

  I glance around the room for a schedule, but don’t see anything but a couple of framed pictures of Gran and Pop, a houseplant from Gran’s old room that’s already dying without Mama here to make sure it’s watered, and a few of Gran’s loose pictures taped to the pale pink painted cinderblock walls.

  Charlie continues talking at me, but he lowers his voice so it doesn’t alarm Gran. “There’re things about him, things you don’t know. He’s got a past that—”

  “I know,” I lash out, narrowing my eyes at Charlie. I expected him to be protective, but he’s taking this judgmental thing way too far. “We all do.”

  “No, Lissey. Not like this. He’s not a stand-up guy—” Charlie stalks toward me, and I don’t back down.

  “Charlie, I’m telling you that I’m moving in with him. I’m not asking you.” I make sure I say the words slowly, so he’ll understand that I’m not kidding.

  “You need to stay away from him, Lissey. It’s for your own good. He’s known for—”

  “Stop it,” I interrupt, slicing the air with my hand. “I mean it Charlie, don’t you dare say another word about him.”

  We both stand facing each other, arms crossed, and identical angry stares. “Look, when we lost Mike, I knew things would be hard. For a while. And I knew you’d find someone new. Hell, I wanted that. Mike would’ve too. But Caleb Warren? No.”

  “What the hell makes you think, one, that you know anything about Caleb and, two, that you have the right to tell me who I should be dating?” I shake my head. “Losing Mike was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. No one will ever replace him and the place he has in my heart, Charlie.”

  “Caleb Warren sure as hell won’t,” Charlie mutters.

  “You know what? I think Mike would have liked Caleb,” I say, my voice tight because I’m on the verge of losing it, so I have to hold tight to my control.

  Charlie snorts. “I don’t think so. Mike like Warren? Not on his best day.” Charlie pops a hip on Gran’s dresser and arranges her figurines in a perfectly spaced half-circle.

  “Mike didn’t judge people based on their past,” I say quietly. “He was always open-minded. He always looked for the good in everybody. It’s what made him a great cop. And an amazing fiancé.”

  Charlie’s eyes go soft, but he hardens his mouth into a tight line. “Mike wasn’t wary enough, Lise. He trusted…” My brother stares down at his hands, now balled into fists. “He trusted people when he shouldn’t have.”

  There’s more behind his words, and I know he’s thinking of Lawson and how much his lies hurt Mike in the end. Through it all, Mike stayed unwaveringly loyal, always believing Lawson would come out stronger in the end. “That’s how brothers are, Charlie,” I say, touching his arm.

  He jerks back and his voice lashes out, harsh and barbed. “Yeah, I was supposed to be his brother. And look what happened? He trusted me, and I let the whole damn thing spiral out of—”

  “Charlie,” I say, keeping my voice calm but firm. Charlie’s eyes look over at Gran, frowning and making little mews like she’s frightened.

  “Gran.” He moves over to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry I scared you like that. I was just being an ass.”

  “Why were you yelling like that?” she asks, her voice trembling with accusation.

  “Just got overexcited is all,” he says, tossing me a guilty look. “Hey, I have an idea. You wanna play dominoes?”

  Gran’s eyes light up as Charlie takes down the tin box and opens the lid. I arrange the chairs around Gran’s small table and smooth my fingertips over the tiles Charlie pushes my way. He and I avoid eye contact, both of us talking to Gran and trying to recalculate the game to let her win, round after round. I try to focus on her sweet happiness, but it isn’t easy to ignore the animosity that’s sprung between Charlie and me.

  “Ms. Ellie, sweetheart, I need to get you ready for lunch,” Jasmine, Gran’s nurse says from the doorway, making Charlie and I jump in our seats.

  “Is it tuna fish today?” Gran asks.

  “Grilled cheese, sweetie,” Jasmine says, bustling into the room.

  Charlie starts to gather the dominoes, and I help Jasmine straighten up the room a little. We both kiss Gran and promise to come back soon. She’s already chattering to Jasmine about how much she’d rather have tuna fish when we leave.

  Charlie walks me to my car. “Think about what I said.”

  “About Caleb?” I ask wryly.

  “Don’t blow me off, Elise. You think everybody is made of pure gold deep down. It’s a stupid way to think. You’re asking for trouble.” He looks down his nose and frowns at me.

  I unlock the door and pull it open. “By the way, Charlie, I was talking about Mike trusting Lawson, not you.”

  His mouth goes slack.

  “Maybe you’re dealing with your own hang-ups,” I continue as I slide into the driver’s seat. “I’m here to talk to you. To listen whenever you need me. But don’t take losing Mike out on Caleb, okay?”

  I wait for my brother to say something in response, but he just shakes his head and stalks to his car, slamming the door as he gets in. I sigh as I pull out. Losing Mike put us all through the shredder. I always knew healing would be slow, but sometimes I think Charlie will never be able to let go and move on.

  “I’m coming!” I yell as I run, a towel still draped over my head, pulling a t-shirt on as I rush to the front door.

  I thought I heard knocking while I was in the shower, and, since no one ever comes all the way out here, I can’t help but hope it’s Elise. In which case, my putting on clothes is a waste of time, because I can’t wait to get her out of hers again.

  I yank the door open.

  It isn’t the Dupuis sibling I was hoping for.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, wadding the damp towel in my fist and grimacing at him.

  “Now that’s a proper greeting. Glad m
y sister chose someone with such great manners,” Charlie drawls with the stupid arrogant smile that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face.

  He’s in his uniform, and, when I start thinking back to the handful of times I’ve ever seen him, I have to wonder if he sleeps in the damn thing because he’s been wearing it every single time.

  “What can I do for you?” I growl.

  “May I come in?” Charlie peers around me in a way that tempts me to ask if he has a search warrant. The only reason I don’t is because I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually whipped one out.

  “Elise isn’t here, Charlie.” I block the doorway with my body, cross my arms, and keep my eyes trained on him. There’s something about the arrogant way he’s grinning that sets me on edge. I don’t know if it’s just the way I usually feel about Charlie magnified because I was hoping it would be Elise, or if my gut is sensing something off.

  Much as I hope it’s not my gut, it’s usually pretty dead on.

  “I know that. I just left her.” He smiles like he’s got a goddamn secret. If it concerns Elise, I want to know and I want to know now. Because it’s Charlie, I have to pretend I don’t give a shit. “I came to see you.” He jerks his head at me, indicating he’s still waiting for an invite.

  I pull the door open wide enough for him to follow me in.

  “I hear you’re moving in together?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound nearly pissed enough for my comfort. What the hell is going on?

  “Good news travels fast I guess. I had a feeling I’d be hearing something about it from you. I could have saved you the trouble of coming over. I heard you loud and clear at the hospital the other day. You don’t approve. I get it.” I toss my towel into the bathroom. “I’m not your best friend, I get that too. You’re coming after me if—”

  “I’m coming after you now.” Charlie stands in the middle of my living room like he owns it. Like he owns me. And I feel a sick dread in the pit of my gut.