Finding North (Naïve Mistakes Series)

by Dunning, Rachel

  "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

  His accent was making me tingle. "Never."

  "So, I suppose this is me meeting the mom today."

  "No, she's probably not home. And, besides, Maria pretty much raised me. I mean, she's the one who's always been there for me when I needed to talk or, I don't know, go over stuff."

  The elevator dinged and Conall pushed me to the door.

  "I see... Is that why when she met me at the hospital she said, 'So, you must be the gentleman?'"

  "Oh, you caught that, did you?"

  "Well, the way she said 'gentleman' led me to believe there was more to it. I don't think she was merely using it as a term to describe men in general."

  "Maybe. Maybe not," I said noncommittally.

  "So, this is me..." I pointed to the door. Conall opened it and whistled when he looked inside, awed.

  "Um, hello? Are you going to push me in?"

  "Well, at least I can scratch gold-digger off the list. Unless, of course, you've been told that when you turn eighteen you're on your own and have to work your way up the world. My goodness, chandeliers? No one has chandeliers, except maybe in hotels..."

  "Well, we do."

  "So, is your mother here?"

  Oh God, does he really want to meet my mother?

  "Mom!" I bellowed. "Mom!" I could go check her room, but as you can see..." I gestured elegantly to my wheelchair.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry you poor child."

  "Asshole."

  Conall walked to the living room, looked around.

  "My mom's room is down the hall there, to the left. If she's not here, the door will be open."

  "My goodness, this place is huge!" his voice faded as he walked away. He came back. "Maybe I'm secretly the gold-digger. You thought of that?"

  I gave him my best unimpressed look.

  "And?"

  "And what?"

  "Is she here or not?"

  "Oh, no. Door was open. Room was empty."

  Good. Because that's why I sent Maria home as well...

  "Well, here's the next bad news. See those stairs?"

  He looked at the stairs, looked at me, pointed at me, then pointed at the stairs, then opened his mouth dully. "Aha, I understand."

  "Yes, and as you can see, if we were a restaurant, we'd be sued for not accommodating the handicapped."

  "Very bad. Well, fine. The trick is really how to pick you up without hurting you. I really don't know why you didn't take those painkillers they offered you."

  Because there's been too much pain around and I don't want to numb myself to it and pretend it's not there. And because the thought of any sort of opiate after all the drug-related shit I've been hearing just makes me sick to my stomach.

  But, what I said was: "'Cause I wanna take it like a man," and made a real gruff face and tensed up my fists.

  The pain was so bad when he lifted me that I felt myself momentarily black out. I tried not to scream but eventually did, with my mouth closed and teeth clenched. By the time he got me up to my room my eyes were watery from the torture.

  "Mother...fuck," I said eventually, after my back settled into my bed. Maybe I had been overly optimistic about telling Maria she could take the day off. The way I felt, not even I was interested in sex with Conall right now...

  "My goodness. A bathroom, a walk-in closet, and...no, it can't be."

  "Yes, yes, yes, it's a gym. Get over it."

  He stood there staring with his mouth open. "And your mum takes the small room downstairs?"

  "Firstly, it is not a 'small' room—"

  "Well, that's true, hers is also rather big."

  "—and, secondly, she's never here! She used to have this room when we first moved in but eventually gave it to me. No, downright insisted!" Ouch! I was getting worked up and my back twanged.

  Conall walked into the weights room, looked at the bench press, started counting the weights. "Fifty five pounds? Plus the bar. Sixty? Not bad at all."

  "Are you kidding? It's lamebrain. I should be doing eighty." I was disappointed with myself. I'd hit a plateau and been stuck at it for almost half a year. And at the same time I was having the constant internal argument with myself that I never wanted to look "butch" but exactly as I did now—toned, athletic—but somehow, every time I got under that bench press I just wanted to hurt the fucker. Lift it up and prove to myself that I was better than it.

  "You train alone?" he asked.

  "Of course. Does Kayla look like the athletic type?"

  "No, not at all. She looks like the 'I eat what I want and don't get fat' type."

  "Yip, that's her."

  "How is she by the way? She looked pretty beat up when I walked in."

  "Do you always notice everything?"

  "Um, no, not always."

  "What, only when there are innocent girls around?"

  "No, only when there are people I care about around." He glared at me.

  Ah, because of Alexandra... I get it.

  "And? Is she fine? Your friend."

  Hatred welled up in me for Raphael, for all he did. I turned my head, unable to think clearly. What Kayla had told me had been so horrible, so ugly, and yet she was still relatively "normal." It's amazing what people can put up with. Their resilience.

  "Leora, are you OK?"

  "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just... I'd like to tell you. But I can't."

  "It's no problem. But is she OK or not? Just tell me that."

  No, she's not. Or maybe she is. What's not OK is that the slimeball that went and hurt her is still going around and hurting others.

  "Conall, can you tell me about your brother? Why is he in the states? What's his scene?"

  Conall went very still, ran his hand over some posters I had up on my wall (uh, yeah, embarrassing!) "This looks nice?" he said, looking at the male-model-inked-to-the-max-sex-symbol-poster I had up next to my bed. There was another one across the room and my eyes drifted over to it. Of course, at that stage so did Conall's.

  "Fucking Christ. I'm so screwed," I said, digging my head into my pillow.

  "Screwed?"

  "Yeah, as in: There's no way I'll be able to take that embarrassing moment away. And no ways that I'll be able to convince you that I'm 'a woman' after you saw those."

  "Oh, I'm supposed to think you're not a woman because you have a high sex drive? At least that's what it looks like. Or are these posters up there because you admire the artistic qualities of their tattoos?"

  "Um, yes, that's what it is!" I stuck my finger up in the air in a sudden movement. Bad. Cringed in pain.

  Conall sat down next to me, burned through my shell and heated up my skin with his eyes as he looked me up and down. "Conall, if we're not supposed to have sex, then you shouldn't be looking at me like that."

  "Oh, we won't have sex. It doesn't mean I can't tease you a little."

  I swallowed. Only it didn't work very well. "Think you could get me some water from downstairs?"

  "Oh, of course, m'lady..."

  Conall was gone awhile. Surely water couldn't take that long to get?

  I heard a muffled voice from downstairs. It sounded like he was whispering, angry. When he returned he looked serious, his hair a little ruffled.

  "Everything OK?"

  "Yes, everything's fine." He forced a smile, sat down on the floor with his back to my nightstand, put the glass of water down for me.

  Somehow I didn't believe him. I hated this. Hated this feeling of complete helplessness, complete vulnerability. Here I was, unable to move, staring up at a ceiling, an odd tension being oozed into the room by my...boyfriend? Was he my boyfriend?

  Perhaps all of that made my next statement come out a little too forcefully: "Conall, speak to me. Please."

  From the corner of my eye I saw his head turn to me. "Does my brother have anything to do with your friend crying today?" he said.

  It was suddenly clear that he'd actually had zero interest in the buff-du
de posters on my wall but that he'd just been evading the subject. The subject of his brother. The one who introduced "His North" to the drugs that killed her. The one I asked about after he'd insisted on getting an answer to how my friend Kayla was doing.

  The one he was probably talking to downstairs on the phone when he'd "gone to get my water."

  "No, he didn't have anything to do with it. I mean, as far as I know... It was that he was there and I was just wondering..."

  "At that party?"

  "Yes."

  "And you were wondering what? If there was a connection?"

  "Look, Conall, he was just there. I was... I don't know what I was doing. She told me some things... They were so awful..." I thought back to them. "God, this world. It's fucking insane. And then Paul dying and—"

  "Wait, say what?"

  "Paul, one of my many stepdads, died yesterday."

  "My God, Leora!" He sat straighter.

  "No, no, it's not that bad. I mean, it is. My mom is taking it badly— Look, Conall, I've had several stepdads. Each of them was like a piece of furniture to me. One of them I didn't even meet! My dad has always been my dad. I saw him often. These other guys, well..."

  "But still, Leora, you knew him. He died!"

  "I know. I should feel bad about it. But I don't. What I feel bad about is..." I forgot my back, tried to turn. "Ow! Fuck!" Stopped turning. "I feel bad about this one person that, somehow, in my mind, seems to be the cause of everything bad that happens to everyone I love."

  "This person had something to do with your stepfather's death?"

  "No, I mean, yes! Damn it! I don't know!"

  "Leora, if you just told me what was happening I could help, or at least understand myself."

  I couldn't tell him what Kayla had told me. But I could tell him this: "There's a dealer here. His name is Raphael Varela. He— Let's put it this way: He seems to have undue influence in my school, and with people I know. And I have no clue if Paul died because of him because I don't know shit about the underground drug scene. But I do know that Raphael keeps popping up where he shouldn't be. And that he is a disgusting man. And that he hurts people." I paused and thought. "And that I'm gonna fucking kill him if I get the chance." I didn't mean that last statement, but I sure felt like saying it.

  Conall said nothing for a while. "This Varela guy, he was at that party where my brother was?"

  "It was his party, at his place."

  "I see."

  Then he went quiet. So did I for a while.

  "Some date, huh?" I finally said.

  "Takes the cake."

  "Conall, there is one more thing..."

  His face went cold.

  "The girl who pushed me at school kinda thought I was dating your brother and then I said some stupid things and—"

  "That's it!" Something snapped in him. I should have seen it. Looking back, I should have! But I didn't at the time. Before I knew it, he'd gotten up and stormed out.

  "Conall, wait!"

  I tried to move. It hurt so fucking bad that I felt like a total idiot for not getting those painkillers. I rammed through the lightning bolts of pain being shot down my spine and forced myself to sit up. It didn't last very long. I started to see spots. I passed out.

  -5-

  "Finally, you're awake. You know that I could be getting laid now? Hard?" It was Kayla's voice.

  "Huh? What?" I said. "Wh—where's Conall?"

  "Dunno. Loverboy had some emergency to deal with. Said it was a 'family' issue or something. So he called me. (You really should put a pin on your phone by the way. Who knows what people could look at on there.) I AM HERE He didn't wanna leave you alone. He told me you'd passed out but that the doctor said it could happen without the pain killers. Why didn't you take those frickin painkillers?"

  "Never mind." I tried to get myself up again. The pain was unbearable. Stampeding elephants on my back is what is was. "Fuck." I fell back down. "Where's my phone?"

  "I have it. Sorry, I was looking for nude photos of Mr. Williams here. You really have nothing interesting on here, you know?" She threw it at me.

  I called Conall. No answer. Called him again. No answer. Called him a third time!

  "What's the problem?" asked Kayla.

  "I don't know. Something tells me he's about to go do something to his brother... Or his brother's dealer."

  "And who's his brother's dealer?"

  My look at Kayla said all it needed to.

  "Oh, shit," she said. "I'm calling Brad."

  "Help me get the fuck up first, please."

  Eventually I found that only certain movements killed like a bitch. And if I walked like a old hag that I could actually manage it. Real slowly.

  Yeah, this was gonna be something like Stop! Or my Grandma will Shoot.

  "I actually did get that prescription written, by the way. The doctor insisted. I just didn't want to pick up the drugs."

  "Well, let's go then, Wicked Witch of the West. All you need is a broom and you're all set."

  "Do you joke at every possible occasion?"

  "Yes. I'm thinking about my future wrinkly face. Imagine all the money I'll save on not needing Botox because I don't frown so much."

  -6-

  After stopping by the drugstore (and popping the required number of pills) there was only one place I thought of to start looking. Hotel Houston.

  Leroy dropped us off at a bar by Cringe which is where we told him we were going. We took a few back roads and were at Hotel Houston twenty minutes later. The pain in my back was dull now, but still there.

  Brad met us there. With two of his cronies.

  I'm gonna end up in jail tonight. Or on some dealer's hit list, I thought. Or fucking dead.

  "What's this?" I asked Kayla. I'd asked her not to call Brad.

  "I took initiative."

  "Raphael will feel unthreatened by two girls. He won't act stupid. But three burly guys might make him take some dumbass action. I don't know, like kill them?"

  "They can wait outside. But I'm not going there alone." Kayla's eyes flicked away briefly.

  "OK, fine. They wait outside the hotel room. Out of view!"

  Brad kissed Kayla in a way that said all it needed to about their relationship. They were going steady. No doubt they'd told each other they were "boyfriend and girlfriend" and here I was risking my neck for a guy who was leaving me in three days. (And a guy who made me feel like my empty world was full.)

  Kayla and I went up.

  "Is that music?" I asked her as we approached the door.

  "Yeah."

  "Does this guy ever not party?"

  She shook her head.

  I banged on the door. No answer. (Of course not. Who would hear it?)

  We walked in and dread sank in my stomach like hot lead. It was almost the same scene as Friday. Bimbos at the bar, two of them topless. A guy was getting a lap-dance on a one-seater at the back. A different fat pig was warming up to one of the ladies by the bar. (No doubt a lady who was being paid for her services.)

  "You know what makes this even more sick?" said Kayla. "These girls were probably sent here by mom. If only she knew..."

  "Hey, chickitas! Nice to see you both here!" Raphael's voice behind us made it feel like goo was dripping all over my skin. Dirty goo. Icky goo.

  His hands were soon around our arms and he pushed us together in an embrace. I almost hurled.

  I shot forward and turned but I couldn't hide my grimace from the sudden pain in my back. Dulled, but no less there. "We're looking for someone. That's all."

  "Oh, dear, we are all looking for somebody. Not so my little Kayley Baby?" He had her tucked into his chest, completely dominating her with his size. Kayla was a quivering wreck, coiled and looking down. Paralyzed with fear. It was clearer now what had happened to her on Friday, how she'd lost control. He had the sadistic hold of a sordid puppet-master on her.

  I yanked her away from him. My tough-girl friend was someone else entirely now. A l
ittle girl. A fragile breakable girl. I pushed her behind me. "It's OK, Kayla. It's OK."

  "Oooh, I like a dominant woman." He grabbed a champagne glass from one of his escort-cocktail-waitresses, took a sip and put it back. "May I offer you a drink?" He said, holding out a glass.

  I wanted to kick him in the balls. But that would be a bad move. "I just want to know where—?"

  And then the door flung open, and there was Conall, rage burning in his eyes, his chest heaving up and down. His fists clenched.

  And there was blood on his shirt. And on his hands.

  Oh. Fuck. What has he done?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  -1-

  "Are you Raphael?" asked Conall, his bloody finger pointing at Raphael who'd turned to face the door. Conall's hands were shaking. He hadn't seen us yet.

  "My my my, you look familiar," said Raphael in a sickeningly ingratiating tone. "I would say you are the illustrious good brother of Mr. Francis Williams. He's a good client, you know?"

  And that's when all hell broke loose. Wrong thing to say, bud.

  Conall flung for Raphael and landed him in the jaw. Raphael went sprawling back against the bar, his eyes rolled back.

  Conall jumped for him!

  "No!" I cried, getting in his way.

  "Leora, what the fuck?" His face was incredulous. "Kay—Kayla? What the hell are—?"

  He didn't finish. Raphael growled and slammed Conall into the wall, held him up there! Conall paneled him in the back but Raphael was also very big. Raphael's shirt came off. He had scars everywhere, snake tattoos. Brad and the other two guys came running in. They ran for Raphael and pulled him off Conall. Conall stood while the two men held Raphael back by his arms.

  "No!" cried Conall. "Let him go. This is one on one. Leora, go outside."

  It sounded like a good fucking idea to me. I took Kayla by the waist. She was shaking. We got to the door and I saw Conall swing for Raphael, missed! The other three guys separated the rest of the party from the two men fighting.

  "What's dis about, British Boy? The pussy of your girlfriend? Is Kayla your girlfriend? Or the sexy brunette?"

  Conall charged! Raphael used Conall's own body weight to fling him to the ground. Conall hit the bar. Glasses smashed down. Raphael kicked him in the ribs. Conall grabbed his swinging foot and Conall fell on his back, smashing through a glass table! Both men kicked and punched and struggled on the floor. People started leaving, sniffing their noses as they got away. Coke addicts.