by Nicole Dykes
I look down at the open shirt. Well fuck. I feel like a toddler. Just then, I hear a knock on my door and Alex’s voice. “Are you dressed?”
“Mostly. Come in.”
She opens the door and then looks at me, seemingly impressed. “Nice.”
“I could use some help with the buttons.”
She doesn’t give me any attitude and just walks over to stand in front of me. Damn she smells good. This new obsession with Alex is really fucking confusing. I guess we just haven’t been in this tight of quarters before.
Her fingers make quick work of my buttons and when she goes for the top one I stop her. “Can you leave that one?”
She nods, “Are you going to wear the tie?”
I cringe. I hate dressing up. “Nah.”
She picks up the suit jacket and without asking, gently slips it on my sore arm, then quickly over my left.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her eyes meet mine as she straightens out the charcoal suit jacket with her hands. “I’m fine. I think I should be asking you that. He was your friend.”
I shake my head, “I mean after your phone call.”
“I’m fine.”
See, I’m not the only liar here.
Chapter 9
Shriller
A
lex even helped me with my dress socks and shoes so I didn’t have to bend over and put pressure on my ribs. Now that we’ve boarded the plan and are on our way to Houston, I realize how unprepared for this I am.
I turn to Alex. “You know we can talk about Stephen if you want to.”
Her eyes meet mine with clear irritation. “What about Stephen?”
I shrug my shoulder. “Anything, but come on, something is up with you and him.”
“You know nothing about our relationship, Shriller. You’ve been in L.A.”
I’ve tried to make it home as much as I could since I moved, but she’s right, I’ve been kinda M.I.A. for a while now. I usually can’t stay too long, but in the short time I’ve been here, I have definitely noticed something is fucked with their relationship. I make it home for every holiday and that asshole stands her up for over half.
“Well, I’m here now. Fill me in.”
She sighs. “Nothing is up with us. We are getting married in a few months, Shriller. We couldn’t be happier.”
“Uh huh, so that’s why you sounded like a desperate teenager on the phone.” Ah fuck. That just slipped out, and by her glare, I know that was a stupid thing to say.
“You were eavesdropping on my phone call? What are you twelve?”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to listen or anything. Your walls are paper thin and I overheard it. What kind of guy doesn’t want his girl to spend the night?”
She folds her arms across her full chest. “Shriller, drop it. Besides you’re just deflecting because you don’t want to think about the funeral.”
Damn she’s good.
I decide to do what she said and the rest of the flight is spent in silence. When we land, we rent a car and Alex drives us to the church where Billy’s funeral is being held.
I opt for one crutch instead of being wheeled in by Alex. I’m getting used to supporting most of my body weight on one arm. We walk into the church. My eyes immediately zone in to the white coffin at the front of the room.
Fuck. Me.
“Do you want to pay respects up there?” Alex asks quietly.
I shake my head and we make our way to find a spot to sit. I can’t look down and see his lifeless body. Someone who was so totally full of life less than a week ago.
The funeral starts and I see a woman in her forties, clearly Billy’s mother, barely keeping it together in the front row. Her sobbing only gets louder throughout the service. I remember Billy talking about how he was a “momma’s boy.” Something I never experienced since my own mom was never around.
From what he told me, his family was extremely close and his mother was always terrified about his career choice. I remember him telling me she always joked about wrapping him in bubble wrap.
People get up to talk about Billy, mostly family, and I feel Alex’s hand slowly move on top of mine. I don’t acknowledge it because I don’t think she would want me to, but I’m grateful for the small amount of comfort it brings.
After the funeral ends, we go out to the cemetery to watch his body be lowered into the ground. Then there is a reception at a hall downtown. I’m dying to get out of here and rip this suit off, maybe down some expensive scotch or something, but instead I’m standing in the room instead.
I listen to stories about the nineteen-year-old kid I had only met about a year ago, but who had affected me deeply. He reminded me of me.
Alex hands me a cup of some punch from the refreshment table and I thank her. I see Dick walking up to us and he holds his hand out for me to shake it, which I do. “Shriller. You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” Asshole. I nod to Alex,. “You remember Alex.”
He smiles at her looking her up and down,; it’s predatory and I don’t like it. In fact, it pisses me off. “Of course, I do. Good to see you again, beautiful.”
Alex just nods her head at him, politely. “You too.” Her tone says she’s lying.
His eyes are still on her and I clear my throat loudly, getting his attention. “How’s the wife?”
His head snaps to me, “She’s fine. Loves to spend my money. She’s out of the country right now.”
“Good for her.”
“Anyway,” he looks at his watch, “I think I’ve put in enough time already. I’ve gotta get out of here. Did you see a doctor yet?”
“No. Next week.”
“Good. You need to get your ass healed and back on that track. I’ll talk to you next week then.”
I give him a curt nod and he leaves. Alex turns to me. “Why the hell did you hire that douchebag? He gives me the creeps.”
I laugh, slightly at that. “He’s one of the best.”
“Still a douchebag.”
“You aren’t wrong.”
“You want something to eat?” She asks me.
I really can’t believe how helpful she’s been since all of this happened. It’s not like Alex is lazy or isn’t a caring person, but she’s usually a more ‘do it your damn self’ kind of person. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
She nodded. “Me either. This is all incredibly depressing.”
I agree and then I see Billy’s mother walking over to me. Shit. My throat instantly goes dry as she stands in front of me. “Adam Shriller, right?”
My head nods and I choke out a dry, “Yes.”
She gives me a big smile and then reaches to hug my left side gently. “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you,” she says into my ear before pulling back.
“You have?”
She nods her head emphatically. “Are you kidding me? My Lord, from the time Billy was nine-years-old, it was ‘Shriller the Thriller this’ and ‘Shriller the Thriller that.’ He just adored you. Always said he wanted to be just like you when he grew up. He loved that you were only fifteen when you started. He started a countdown to that age, then.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “I’m sorry.”
She looks taken aback by that. “For what?”
“If it weren’t for me, maybe he would have chosen something safer.”
I feel Alex stiffen next to me. Billy’s mom just brushes that off. “No. He didn’t live nearly as long as I would have liked. But he sure lived doing exactly what he wanted to do. And he had so much fun doing it.”
That’s not what I expected her to say. “He should still be here doing what he loved.”
She nods, tears welling up in her eyes. “I wish he was too, but you were a good friend to him. Do you know how excited he was to be racing beside you? To be mentored by you?”
I can’t breathe. It’s all too much. I don’t even have fucking tie on or my collar buttoned up, but I feel myself clawing at it for air.
&
nbsp; Alex must notice because she shakes her hand sweetly. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve heard a lot about your son and he was an amazing racer. No doubt, in a couple of years he would have given Shriller here a real run for his money.”
Billy’s mom laughs at that, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh, I hope he heard that just now.” She turns her attention back to me. “I wish you a quick recovery. I’ll pray for you.”
“Thank you.” I finally get the words to come out and with that Alex takes over again, saying goodbyes and we walk out of the building together and to the rental car.
Alex gets behind the wheel and then turns to me, “Where to?”
“The hotel.”
She nods and puts the car in drive. We don’t say one word the entire drive and when we get there we each go to our own rooms, drained from the day.
I call room service almost immediately and order a bottle of their best scotch. After I hang up I pull the sling off of my shoulder and rip the suit jacket from my body, not caring that I caused myself some major pain in my shoulder. Fuck pain.
Room service is quick and after a generous tip I close the door and break into the bottle. Not bothering with a glass and take a swig. I untuck the dress shirt and sit down on the couch and undo the buttons on the shirt with one hand.
So many thoughts running through my head, but the biggest one: That could have been me today.
Chapter 10
Alex
I
go back to my hotel room that’s next door to Shriller’s. That funeral was awful. I mean I know that’s to be expected, but seriously. Nineteen-years- old. Not only that, but he died doing something that my friend has done for years. It’s something he’s desperate to get back to.
None of us are stupid. We all know that, with what Shriller does, a call like Billy’s mom got last week is quite possible. But I think we press that thought to the back of our minds. Today kind of made that impossible for me to do.
I know Shriller didn’t want to talk, but he wasn’t in a good place when I helped him inside his room. I should just call my fiancé and call it a night, but I’m too stubborn for that shit. I grab my room key and walk out and down to Shriller’s door.
I knock and wait as I hear Shriller making his way to the door. “Yeah?”
“It’s Alex, let me in,” I holler through the thick door.
I hear him grumble and then open the door before going back to what he must have been doing before I knocked. He sits on the nice couch in the suite. My room is a suite too, paid for by Shriller. I think it’s a little ridiculous for one night, but I know it’s what he’s grown accustomed to.
His arm sling has been flung to the floor along with the nice suit jacket. His dress shirt has been pulled out of his slacks and unbuttoned all of the way. His shoes are kicked off. Shriller props his right leg on the coffee table in the room and leans back with a bottle of scotch in his left hand.
I gesture to the sight before me. “Oh, this is a good look, Shriller.”
He doesn’t even look at me, just continues to stare at the wall and takes another swig of scotch. Well this isn’t good and I’m not sure how to deal with it. So, our usual banter isn’t going to commence. Fine. I can do serious.
I sit down next to him on the couch. “It isn’t your fault.”
He swallows another drink of the scotch, but still doesn’t say anything. I sigh loudly and lean forward swiping a glass and some ice from the table in front of us. I take the bottle and pour myself a glass before placing it back in his hand. If you can’t beat them, join them, I suppose.
I take a drink and he turns to me, watching. “That kid had so many people that loved him. It’s not fair.”
It dawns on me what he’s saying. “You think it should’ve been you?”
He takes another drink and then says dryly. “He was nineteen, Alex.”
“And you’re thirty, Shriller.”
He shrugs. “Did you see all of his fucking family there? And his friends? And his mom? I mean, shit, she loved him.”
I don’t know much about Shriller’s childhood. I met him when we were fifteen and it wasn’t something he liked to talk about. I do know that he ended up in foster care at a young age, like Brooke, so his home situation couldn’t have been great. “No doubt he was loved and he shouldn’t have died, but it’s still not your fault.” I try to assure him.
I take another drink and so does he before saying, “He looked up to me, Alex. You heard his mom. Since he was nine-years-old and then when we met, all I did was tell him about how fucking great it was. I never talked about the bad. I didn’t mention the many, many times I ate it on my bike. I never talked about the shitty hotel rooms or paying my dues. No shit, I made it sound like the best fucking job in the world.”
“You love it.”
“But it’s not for everyone. He was a kid.”
“So were you when you started, Shriller.” I counter. “Besides you said he was skilled, it’s not like you were encouraging someone who couldn’t cut it. He was good, it was just a freak accident.”
He noticeably winces. “He was good, but he was fucking green. All I did was push his buttons. Make him want to beat me. Do you know how many interviews I’ve done where that’s all I’ve only focused on? Only the positive and made it sound so great and easy. I’ve just always acted like I was bulletproof.” He takes a big swig from the bottle and then adds, “He asked me that day if I’m ever scared.”
I finish off my scotch and take the bottle from him again, refilling my glass starting to feel a strong buzz from the hard liquor. “What did you say?”
“Fuck no.”
I let a small smile pass over my lips. “Sounds like you.”
“He was scared and I fucking knew it, Alex. I just gave the asshole answer and made him think I had no fear.”
I take a small drink and then turn on the couch so I’m facing him with both of my legs folded up and underneath me, making sure my dress is covering my thighs as much as possible. “Do you remember that race out at Dragon Creek the summer after our junior year?”
His head turns to look at me, probably confused as to why I’m bringing it up. “Yeah. Why do you remember that?”
“Because you were dating Brooke at the time and she was worried sick. Remember? She begged you not to go.”
He nods his head. “Yeah, there was a nasty storm coming through that night and the race was rain or shine.”
“Right. On a dirt bike, on a dirt track. It was muddy as hell out there.”
He nods, “What’s your point?”
“Do you remember what you said to her before you went ahead and raced?”
He slowly nods his head, but he doesn’t say it out loud.
I do it for him. “You told her that once you submit to fear, that’s it. You might as well just hang up your helmet because you are fucking done. That racing is ninety percent balls and ten percent pure adrenaline.”
Brooke was pissed when he left to go to the race, but she still dragged me along to watch him that night. He showed no fear and he was the first to cross the finish line.
“I was just a dumb kid back then.”
I shake my head. “You still believe that. I know you do. I don’t think you were being a dick when you told him you don’t have fear. I think you knew he was scared and you were trying to give him to courage to race. You were helping him.”
“He’s dead. He should have had fear.”
“We could all die at any time.”
He runs his hands through his hair, still styled from when I put mousse in it this morning. His eyes roaming down to where my legs are pulled up on the couch and back to my face. His expression is stoic as he searches, then he cracks a small smile before actually letting out a small laugh. That was a quick change. I look at the bottle in his hand that now only has about a quarter left in it. Well that explains that.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
He’s stopped laughing, but has a smile
on his face still. “Nothing.”
I glare at him. “You do that a lot you know?”
“Do what?”
“Laugh and then when I ask what you are laughing about you say, ‘nothing’. It’s infuriating.”
He laughs again at that and I roll my eyes. It’s like he loves to piss me off. I take another drink and give him the death glare. Finally, he says, “I’m sorry.”
“So, tell me what you were laughing at then.”
His eyes meet mine and he asks, “Do you ever think about that kiss?”
My mouth goes totally dry as I look into his eyes and try to steel my own so he can’t see any emotion. “What kiss?”
“You know what kiss, Alex.” He challenges then adds, “Homecoming. Senior year.”
Good Lord, what the hell made him bring that shit up? “That was over a decade ago, Shriller. Ancient history.”
He laughs, but doesn’t take his eyes from mine. “Just curious.”
“No, I don’t think about it. It was stupid anyway. You were just trying to get back at Brooke.”
They had just broken up for the hundredth time and got back together a few weeks later. Shriller and I had both been drinking at a party. Totally clichéd and totally stupid.
His face turns dark again and he asks, “You honestly think that’s why I kissed you?”
I scoff and fold my arms in front of me, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “I know that’s why you kissed me.”
He grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and covers me with it. Leaning in closer. “Alex, you know me. I don’t play games. I never have. I kissed you because I wanted to.”
“Bullshit. You love games and you used to fuck with Brooke any way you could.”
He shakes his head adamantly. “I had plenty of ways to mess with Brooke, but I never would have used you for it. I kissed you because you were the one I noticed first.”
I search his eyes for any hint of bullshit. “Oh please.”
“Sophomore year. Evan and I were walking into school and you were standing with Brooke outside of Mrs. French’s class. I remember thinking you were hot in a prissy sort of way.”