Down to You

by M. Leighton

  Even though we are alone, I’m still paranoid. I fight the urge to look over my shoulder. “Yes,” I say quietly. “I made him give them to me before he got arrested. I promised him I’d keep them hidden. And safe. Even though they’re what got him in trouble in the first place, they’re also what’s keeping him alive. As long as they know they’re out there, we’re safe.”

  “And you think you can use them to…what?”

  “I wasn’t really going to tell you what you were looking at, but I was going to have you look over the books. I’ve studied them for countless hours over the last few months and I think there is some evidence there that could put some of the higher-ups away for life. If what I suspect is true, these books would prove tax evasion. That coupled with several other crimes my father knows them to be guilty of, not the least of which is the murder of my brother and mother, could go toward proving racketeering and they could be prosecuted under the RICO act.”

  She’s perfectly quiet for so long I wonder if she even understood what I said.

  But when she finally says something, I know which part struck her the hardest.

  It’s the part that makes me look like the bastard most people have always thought me to be.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE- Olivia

  It’s the most bizarre and surreal thing to be looking at the guy I’ve known as Cash and suddenly see Nash appear. The mussed hair is still all Cash. The casual clothes are still all Cash. Some of the mannerisms are still all Cash. But the speech, the sudden switch into intelligent, successful, soon-to-be attorney mode, is all Nash. And it’s staggering.

  But not nearly as staggering as his inadvertent admission.

  I speak quietly, trying to remain calm. “So what you’re saying is that you were going to involve me in something that could potentially get me killed without even telling me? Without giving me so much as a head’s up?” I stand to my feet. I can’t help it. Anger is pulsing through me like spray from a fire-hose, and I can’t remain sitting. If I do, I might explode. “Without giving me a choice?”

  At least Cash has the decency to look embarrassed. Ashamed. Contrite. “I’m sure that’s what it looks like, but I promise you, I would never put you in danger. I just wanted you to do the numbers, look at the tax code. Give me your opinion. I was going to tell you they were for another business I was considering buying. I knew I could trust you not to say anything if I was right and there were serious violations. If I’d taken it to a CPA, they might’ve felt compelled to try to get the name of the business and turn them in. Something crazy like that.”

  Even though that makes it sound a lot less horrific, I’m still having trouble thinking past my anger. Deep down, though, I know it has more to do with being lied to than anything else. Strangely, the rest all sounds like stuff I could deal with, albeit with some liquor, a sedative and some time to think, but still, I could manage.

  But this, this lying… I’ve always hated liars and being lied to more than anything else. To me, it’s always been the only truly unforgivable sin.

  Can Cash be the first exception? Or has this forever wounded whatever is between us?

  “Olivia, please understand that I would never, never—”

  I put up my hand to stop him. “Stop. Please don’t say anything else. I think I’ve heard enough for one day. Maybe for the rest of my life. I won’t know until I’ve had some time to think.”

  He looks defeated. Not really worried, like he’s afraid I might tell someone, just defeated. Like he took the chance and it backfired. I smother the little pang of guilt for trampling his attempts at coming clean. I can’t afford to feel tenderness toward him right now. I need to be practical and rational. Cool. Emotionless.

  I pretend to look through my purse. I can’t meet his eyes. I’ll crumble. I know I will. “Thanks for getting my car fixed and bringing it by. I’ll pay you back.” I start edging toward the door. Running will only make me look like a coward, even though that’s what I’d really like to do—run. Far and fast.

  Cash says nothing. I don’t look up until I’m facing the door and he’s to my left. I pause, thinking I should probably say something else, but not having the first idea what that is.

  I open the door and walk out. I don’t look back, but I can feel Cash’s eyes follow me until I disappear around the corner.

  ********

  I’ve never been the type to skip school a lot. A class or even a day here and there maybe, but nothing substantial. Until now.

  Tuesday morning doesn’t bring the peace I thought it would. In fact, between getting very little sleep—again—and the magnitude of my troubling thoughts, I feel almost physically ill. My stomach literally turns over when I see the flowers that Nash left me.

  “Cash,” I say out loud, correcting myself for the hundredth time.

  As I did most of yesterday and far into the night, I relive the humiliation of what happened with Cash when I thought he was Nash. The things I said to him, the way I acted, the things we did. Or nearly did. The way I tortured myself over who had crept into my bedroom that night.

  I rock between anger and mortification then back to anger.

  How could he do this to me? How could he do this to everyone?

  I go to the kitchen to make coffee. As I pass my phone, I see the screen light up. I had put it on vibrate and left it out here last night because I didn’t want to be tempted to answer it. The name displayed is Cash.

  I wonder if he’ll ever use Nash’s phone when he calls me again?

  Bitterness courses through me. It’s so thick I can almost taste it. Ignoring the call just like I have the half dozen others from him, I continue on to the kitchen.

  As I sip my coffee in the living room, I try to think of other things, but they all lead back to the most important issue in my life. Cash.

  How did he become such a central theme? When did I get so deeply involved? How had it happened without my knowledge?

  The answer? It didn’t. I knew I would fall for him. I lied to myself just enough to soften the blow at the time, but I knew it would end like this. It’s the story of my life.

  Another swell of anger. And bitterness.

  Then longing. And loneliness.

  The anger again. At Cash for letting me get so close. For drawing me in, like a spider into his web.

  His web of lies!

  At least there are no tears. I’m thankful for that. Tears are exhausting. Anger is like rocket fuel. Maybe I don’t cry because the ball is in my court. Because I know all I have to do is pick up the phone, return one of the many messages he’s left me, and I can be with him again. At least for a little while.

  In a different web of lies. In a relationship with no future.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO- Cash

  I hit the red END button on the phone. The word itself mocks me. Have I really destroyed any chance to be with Olivia? Do I really care if I have?

  The answers are: I don’t know and yes. In that order.

  I can only hope coming clean with her was the right decision. I would’ve thought someone like Olivia would appreciate the gesture, the significance of what I did in the end. But maybe I was wrong. I’ve never really had feelings for a girl like her. Hell, I’ve never really had feelings for any girl period. Not like this anyway.

  I resist the urge to throw my phone across the room. The next step is hers. It’s her choice. I’m just going to have to accept that and go along with her decision. Because I won’t beg. I won’t ever beg a female for anything.

  I just won’t.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE- Olivia

  Tuesday melts into Wednesday. Anger and bitterness become depression and devastation. In a way, Cash really was the perfect guy. I’d wanted him to be more like Nash when, in reality, he was Nash. He’d turned his life around and made something of himself for his brother, for his father. For his family. He’s the perfect blend of bad boy and successful, driven adult. He’s everything I ever wanted and everything I ever needed. All wrapped up in one
gorgeous, sexy package. Which is all wrapped up in lies and deceit and danger.

  If that’s not a kick in the ass, I don’t know what is.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR- Cash

  I guess they’re right when they say, “Never say never.” I said I would never beg. That’s laughable. It’s only Wednesday and I’ve already lost count of how many times I’ve called Olivia. I should be embarrassed.

  But I’m not.

  I’m desperate. More and more every day. I’m desperate not to lose her. But I don’t know what to do next. I hate to go to her house and force her to talk to me. But I will. At this point, I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do for her. To see her. To talk to her. To touch her and taste her again.

  Oh damn, this ain’t good!

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE- Olivia

  Wednesday becomes Thursday. My phone is lighting up with more frequency. I keep it close so I can see if it’s Dad calling. It never is. Every time I call to check on him, he assures me he’s doing well and promises he’ll call if he needs anything. But he never does.

  Maybe I should just go home for a while. Take a break from school. From life. From heartache. From Cash.

  I only have a few more days until Marissa comes home anyway. And then what will happen? Will “Nash” still be a part of her life? Will he still visit? And hold her and kiss her? Does he tell her he loves her? Did he ever plan a future with her? Will he?

  Those thoughts always send me into a tail spin. On the one hand, I knew “Nash” was probably sleeping with her. I mean, they were dating. Of course they were having sex. But I thought Cash was unattached. I thought he was into me. All about me. At least for the time being. As much as a guy like that ever is “into” one specific girl. But it was all a lie.

  It was all a lie.

  Wasn’t it?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE- Cash

  I take the familiar turns that lead to the prison. I’m at my wits’ end. The only thing I can do, short of showing up at Olivia’s and doing some serious groveling, is to go talk to Dad. It became apparent to me a couple days ago that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m hoping he’ll have some good advice, some good suggestions. I need all the help I can get. And there’s only one person, other than Olivia, on the entire planet who knows what’s going on.

  I committed the visiting hours schedule to memory years ago. I’ve come to visit Dad both as Cash and as Nash. I never tried to hide my family’s past from the upper crust of Atlanta society. I just tried to be involved in it in a completely different way as Nash.

  As Nash, I was always approaching it from a legal standpoint, like it was my duty to try and help my father by learning and doing what I could. Legally.

  As Cash, I never really did anything. I took the only thing he left me—Dual—something that was bought with questionable money from questionable people, and I turned it into a successful, respectable establishment. Something a kid without a high school diploma could run. Something people would expect a person like me to be involved with. I played Cash to the bone.

  But somewhere along the way, I became something else. Something different. Some kind of hybrid. I’m not satisfied being the loser Cash anymore. At least not only the loser Cash. I like being respectable and respected. I like being looked at like I’m worth something and like my opinion matters. I like other people knowing I’m smart without me having to try and convince them. And then fail. I like being the winner that my brother was.

  Only I’m not my brother. I’m a winner all on my own. Yes, his death gave me another chance at life, but I accomplished all these things on my own.

  And I’m the only person who will ever know. Except my father.

  And Olivia.

  The guards buzz me through the gate and I check in, filling in the blanks and signing my name, identifying the name and number of the prisoner I’m here to see. After I finish, they lead me to the familiar room with one long table cut in half by a wall of glass. It’s divided periodically by partitions that create tiny cubicles. They’re designed to give the illusion of privacy. But in here, there’s no privacy. I have no doubt that everything I say into the nondescript black telephone is taped and stored somewhere. Luckily, my father is innocent. And anything else we talk about, we can do vaguely enough so that no one else would suspect what we’re discussing.

  Like today, when the guards usher him in and he greets me.

  He smiles. “So who’s visiting me today? Cash or Nash? I can’t tell by the clothes.”

  I look down at my hastily assembled outfit. I guess, for me at least, it is pretty middle-of-the-road. Black jeans and a striped rugby shirt. It’s something that either Cash or Nash might wear. That or neither of them would wear it. I’m not sure which. I can’t even remember buying the shirt.

  “Does it matter?” I ask dryly.

  He smiles again. His eyes search my face, like they do every time I come to visit. Like he’s looking for signs of change and age. Or distress. When his smile fades, I know that today he’s found some.

  He sits up a little straighter, his eyes becoming sharp. Aware. Vigilant. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “I met a girl.”

  A frown flickers across his face—the face that most people say looks so much like an older version of my own—but then it smoothes and his lips curve into a very pleased grin. “Well, it’s about time. I’ll be damned.” He sits back and slaps his hand on the table. He’s genuinely happy for me. Well, at least until I tell him the rest. That might change his tune.

  “I told her, Dad,” I say, deadpan.

  He looks a little confused for a second before he realizes what all is encompassed in that blanket statement. “How long have you known this girl?”

  I start shaking my head. I know where he’s going. Always suspicious. “Dad, it doesn’t matter. I needed to tell her. I care about her. And I trust her. Besides, I thought maybe she could help.”

  “Bringing her into all this, that doesn’t sound like you care for her at all.”

  “I had it worked out to keep her safe. I wouldn’t put her in danger.”

  “You put her in danger. You’re my son. You’re in this whether you like it or not. And I’m sorry for that. Sorrier than you’ll ever know, but what’s done is done. For the rest of my life, you’ll have to be careful of who you let in. Maybe one day…when I’m gone…”

  “I’m not waiting around, Dad. I’m not gonna let you die in here and I’m not gonna put my life on hold because of some mistakes that were made years ago. We’ve been punished enough. It’s time for us to get on with life. I think I’ve found a way to—”

  “Get yourself killed. That’s what you’ve done. Stop messing in stuff you’ve got no business messing in, Cash. I gave you those…items as insurance. Nothing more.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Dad, but I’m tired of letting other people ruin my life. I can’t live this way. You’re all I’ve got left. I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

  “Son, we’ve talked about this. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s just not the smartest—”

  “Dad, can’t you just trust me? For once, can’t you just trust that I’m capable of taking care of things, of making good decisions? Of executing a well thought-out plan?”

  His expression softens. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that you’re all I’ve got left, too. And I’ve brought so much misery to your life. I want you to go and live a happy, normal life. A life like you would’ve had if I’d died in that fire, too.”

  “Dad, I could never be happy letting you languish in here.”

  He grins. “Languish?”

  I smile. “Law school improved my vocabulary.”

  He starts to say something then changes his mind.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I was just gonna say that I was proud of you before you went to law school. Ever since you were young, you were always happy just being you. You were gonna do what you wanted to do, the rest of t
he world be damned. I was always proud of that tough streak. I’ve always admired that kind of confidence and self-assurance.”

  I feel emotion squeeze around my throat like a fist. I guess you never get too old to crave your father’s approval. Or at least I haven’t yet.

  “Cash, please don’t let that tough streak make your decisions for you. There’s a time to give up, to let things go. If you care about this girl, go find her and make her happy. Keep her safe. Give her a life away from all this. Start fresh. If you love her even half as much as I loved your mother, you’ll have a good life. And that’s all I want for you.”

  “Whoa. I didn’t say I loved her.”

  Dad smiles at me. “You didn’t have to.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN- Olivia

  Friday morning I make myself get a shower. I find it more than a little disgusting and pathetic that I haven’t taken one all week.

  But today, I’m done being pathetic. I’ve wallowed long enough. I’ve got to do something. So I’m going home for the weekend. I’ll call Tad on the way and see if I can pick up at least one shift. After that, I’ll figure out what to do for the rest of…well, ever when I get back.

  Just the thought of having to come back and deal with Cash and then Marissa and school and…life is so overwhelming. I push it out of my head in favor of a weekend spent in the familiar. In the comforting. In the safe.

  Safe. I never thought I’d have such a literal application for that word in my life.

  I pack a bag of essentials and head out, locking up behind myself. With Marissa gone and Cash/Nash being out of the picture, I feel completely disconnected to the city. To my life. To my home. It doesn’t feel like home right now. It feels like a prison of lies and heartache. The only place that feels like home is the one I’m traveling toward.