IDLE: Book Four of The Seven Deadly Series

by Fisher Amelie

“Thank you,” I told him as he left his office.

  When I was done with the paperwork, I laid it across his desk and hauled to the parking lot to get my car so I could go change.

  “Done,” I said, checking off the first invisible box of the list inside my head.

  I returned that night in jeans, a T-shirt, a pair of Converse, and my hair in a ponytail, ready for work. I met Casey in the front.

  He looked at me. “That was quick.”

  I nodded once. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  “Come here,” he said, leading me to the back of the store, to shipping and receiving as he called it.

  There was one of those old-fashioned time clocks. He showed me a card he’d made with my name on it and I time stamped it.

  “There you go, girl,” he said. “I’ll have one of my guys teach you the ropes this week.”

  “Cool,” I told him.

  Not Salinger. Not Salinger. Not Salinger.

  “Just follow me,” he said.

  We walked to the back right of the store and came upon all the boys from the other night, the ones who had witnessed my meltdown with Salinger. My face flamed red, but I stood resolute.

  That’s when I saw him. Salinger. He was bent over, breaking down boxes, and stood when he saw Casey and me approach. My heart beat harder in my chest than I’d ever felt it. A mixture of sorrow, pain, and humiliation flooded my entire body and I felt the urge to bolt, then the urge to run to Salinger, which made no sense to me.

  He looked at me, his face blank.

  “Salinger, this is Lily. She’ll be working the night shift with us. Show her the ropes?” Casey asked him, not realizing we already knew the other.

  Salinger nodded once. All the other boys stood dumbstruck, staring at us.

  “Chop, chop, gentlemen!” Casey yelled, which broke their trance and they started moving again, breaking things down and loading shelves.

  Salinger came to me as Casey turned for the front of the store.

  “Hey,” he greeted.

  “Hey,” I spoke, but it was soft and quiet.

  “I was sorry to hear—” he began, but I stopped him short.

  “Thanks. If it’s okay with you, I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t, really. I just want to do the job.”

  Something passed across his face then, but I didn’t know how to interpret it. He nodded his reply and turned back to the shelves. “Follow me.”

  He showed me the most efficient way to stock the shelves and how to face the product. I picked it up quickly, only needing a few pointers here and there, but kept up with him for the most part. The work was tedious, but I was grateful for it. Grateful for the distraction, for the means to fix my life, for the way I could bring my sisters back home.

  I took a deep breath for the hundredth time that day.

  We worked our way down the store, my body tired beyond belief, and arrived at the frozen section.

  “This one kind of sucks,” Salinger offered.

  “That’s okay,” I replied.

  But as I started unloading boxes of frozen pizza, ice stuck to my hands, and within an hour they were freezing cold, numb, and my skin turned red. I shook them out every few seconds, but it didn’t help. Salinger watched me then went to the back.

  “Come on, Lily,” I whispered to myself.

  A pair of thin leather gloves appeared in front of my face. I looked up and saw Salinger holding them.

  “They help,” he explained.

  “Thank you.”

  When we were done, we broke down all the boxes and laid them on a cart, ready to recycle. All the other boys made their way to the back, but Salinger held me back. I turned to see Casey making his way toward us.

  “How’d she do?” he asked Salinger.

  “Really well. She kept up with us the entire time,” he answered.

  Casey looked shocked. “That’s amazing, Lily. Not even full-grown men can keep up with the crew, especially their first night.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my chest feeling tight for some reason.

  “The better question, though, is how you feel about it? Think you want to do this every night?”

  “Yes,” I answered, too tired to feign optimism.

  “Good,” he said with a nod.

  “Get home. Get some rest. See you here tomorrow at nine.”

  He held his hand out for me and I shook it.

  “We’ve got to clock out,” Salinger said when Casey walked away.

  “Okay,” I said and followed him to the back.

  I noticed all the guys stood in the thin light of the morning sun, smoking cigarettes and hanging out.

  “We always go to breakfast together,” Salinger said, punching his card.

  “Cool,” I said.

  “Wanna come?” he asked.

  “No, thank you,” I told him. I needed every dime I had.

  He nodded. “See you tomorrow, Lily.”

  “See you,” I responded and watched him walk away.

  Keep it together, Lily.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I WORKED THE NIGHT SHIFT every night for the next seven nights. I grew accustomed to sleeping during the day. I never heard from Legal Aid. When I called the county about my mother, they had no news for me. They both promised me they’d have more information the following week.

  After my shift on the eighth night, they handed me a paycheck for the previous week. While I walked to my car, I ripped it open.

  Two hundred sixty-three dollars and some change.

  I mentally calculated what I’d need to eat the cheapest way I possibly could, what I’d need for gas, and thought about how I could make the most impact on the house to make it suitable to bring the girls back again. When I reached my Scout, I leaned across the hood, feeling the metal cooled by the night air, and rested my forehead on its surface as I tried to gather enough mental courage to put one more foot in front of the other.

  I was hanging by a thread. A very thin thread.

  Keep it together, Lily.

  “Lily,” I heard to my left.

  I opened my eyes to see Salinger standing there.

  “Hello, Salinger,” I said, not bothering to stand back up.

  “Lily, you’re struggling.”

  I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I’m fine,” I told him.

  “You’re not sleeping or eating. It’s obvious.”

  I summoned enough strength to stand back up. “You wanna know what pain like that does for someone who deserves it?” I asked him.

  He flinched. “Nobody deserves that.”

  “I do,” I told him.

  He breathed deeply through his nose. “Lily, that’s really unhealthy.”

  I laughed and dug for my keys out of my bag. “I killed my mom.”

  “She died in a car accident,” he stated.

  “That night,” I confessed, “she called me. We fought a little back and forth. She told me to come pick her up because their car had broken down. I was pissed about what Trace had done and mad at life in general. I smoked a little and passed out on the couch, too idle in my own pathetic world to think past its borders. I woke to the cops banging on my door.” I stuck the keys in the door handle and turned them. The door creaked as I pulled it open and I rested my hand at its top. “I made a conscious decision not to pick her up, too lazy, too pissed, too selfish to obey her simple request after she’d worked her fingers to the bone for who knows how many hours that day while her piece-of-shit husband gambled away everything she’d probably earned.” I watched Salinger swallow. “I took my sisters’ mother and father away, and I’ve gotta do something about it.”

  I got in my car and closed the door; my hand shook as I tried to fit the key in the ignition. I looked up and saw Salinger staring at me, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Slow in his movements, his left hand fell on the hood. He rounded the front of the car; his hand slid across the metal and stopped at my door. I watched his long fingers wrap around the
handle and open her up.

  “Scoot over,” he said, so I did. He slid in the driver’s seat and held out his hand. “Keys.”

  I gave them to him, too tired to argue, and I trusted him. He drove us toward Smithfield, just outside Bottle County to one of the older apartment complexes there but they were still decent, clean, and well maintained. He pulled into a space near a bottom corner apartment at the front of the complex and parked my car.

  “Come on,” he said, stepping out, and offered his hand to me.

  I took it. When my skin touched his, it felt electric, which made me feel incredibly guilty. I was relieved when he dropped it. I rubbed the skin of my hand across the thigh of my jeans so the feeling would leave, but it never did. My arm still tingled. That tingle wound up the skin there and pooled in my belly.

  I followed him to that bottom corner apartment. He held the door open for me and I walked in. It was dark, so he leaned across me to flip the lights on. The crack of the light was overwhelming since the sun hadn’t yet risen. His apartment smelled clean and looked it as well. There were shelves and shelves of books, several guitars hung on the walls, and chessboards everywhere.

  “Have a seat,” he offered and gestured to a leather couch sat in front of a decent television.

  His simple apartment wasn’t huge, but it was like a completely different world compared to my own house. I felt a sudden awareness of myself standing in his apartment.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked him.

  He went through to his kitchen, which was open to the living and dining rooms, and opened his fridge. I heard the hum of the motor it was so quiet in his house.

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I barely spoke.

  He brought me a bottle of water and sat on the arm of a chair next to the sofa I’d taken the liberty to sit on. He unscrewed his lid and took a swig. I did the same.

  “You’re obviously not sleeping and you’re on the verge of breaking, I can tell.”

  I didn’t argue with him.

  “I want you to forget,” he began. I opened my mouth to tell him that was impossible, but he stopped me. “Not everything. Just a change of scenery, a temporary escape. You can shower here. I’ll make you something to eat. You can have my bed and I’ll take the couch.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” I said, my eyes burning. “I can’t impose on you like that.”

  “It’s not an imposition,” he said.

  He stood, went to a room off the living space, and returned with what looked like one of his T-shirts, a pair of shorts, and a pair of socks.

  “I’ve got everything you’ll need in there,” he said, pointing to a shower off a bedroom, his bedroom, I assumed. “When you’re done, come out, I’ll have something to eat for you.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Very sure,” he answered. His expression was kind but gave nothing else away.

  I took a shower, washed away the night’s work, breathed in the heat of the water, and let it clean out my congested lungs. Since losing my mom, watching my sisters get torn away from me, and the new job, my body was stiff, the muscles rigid every second of my days and even my nights. I don’t think I’ll ever know carefree again, and it’s just what I deserve.

  I put on Salinger’s clothes, though I was swimming in them, and padded back into his living room.

  He stopped when he heard me come in. His eyes started at my face, adrenaline flooding my body, and followed down to my feet then back up.

  “It’s,” he swallowed, “they’re a little big on you.”

  “Yes,” I agreed in a whisper. “Thank you, though.”

  “Of course,” he offered.

  He went back to his stove, picked up his pan, and brought it to the table. He laid out an omelet on a plate. He stared again then knocked his chin up, encouraging me to sit.

  “Smells really good,” I told him, trying to smile, but it barely reached my eyes.

  “I like anything I can throw in a pan as a big mess and have something edible by the end.” One side of his mouth ticked up in a sarcastic smile.

  He sat and we started eating together.

  “You’re doing really well at work, Lily,” he told me.

  “Thanks,” I said between bites.

  “Who is taking care of your sisters while you’re with us?” he asked, obviously not knowing what happened.

  I laid my fork down and my eyes filled with tears.

  “Lily? No, no, don’t cry. What’s wrong?” he asked. He looked frantic. He stood and looked at me, his hands on top of his head. “Don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head to get control of myself. “I’m just tired,” I told him. “Sit. I’ll tell you where my sisters are.”

  He did as I asked and sat back down.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “That night,” I said, letting out a shaky breath, “the night before I didn’t show up?” He waved it away like it didn’t matter, but I couldn’t let it go. “I’m sorry,” I told him.

  “It’s okay,” he assured me.

  “No, it’s not, but I am sorry.”

  “It’s fine. It’s water under the bridge.”

  I nodded. “Thank you,” I told him and wiped a few tears away. I hadn’t realized how much that had laid heavily on my shoulders until he forgave me in that moment, and I was grateful he accepted my apology. “The night before, I did something stupid. I, uh, as you know, I went over to Trace’s because he and a bunch of our friends were partying over there. I was, uh, running away from Sterling. He’d come home and I hadn’t expected him, so I thought instead of going over to Ansen’s or calling Katie or whatever, that I’d just hang at Trace’s until enough time had passed that I could sneak back over. Anyway, while I was there, Trace offered me a joint.”

  Salinger nodded but his body language was a little cut off, making me feel sick to my stomach.

  “I, um, I took it,” I admitted, my eyes glassing over. “I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m an idiot and he offered an escape, so I took it.” I took a deep breath and let it out, tears spilling over. “It was laced.”

  Salinger unfurled his crossed arms and laid his hands on the table. “For sure?”

  “For sure. I didn’t know it was, but I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.”

  “Fuck that guy. Don’t you dare blame yourself for that,” Salinger whispered.

  “It was ketamine,” I said, ignoring him.

  “He told you it was ketamine?” he asked.

  “No, uh, I had a drug test done.”

  “Good.”

  I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from bursting into tears. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Something I said must have made him uncomfortable because when he found out that Mom and Sterling had died, he called CPS. I think he was trying to discredit me, make it look like I’m an addict trying to blame him or something, just in case I did turn him in.”

  “Fuck!” Salinger said. His hands balled into fists.

  “I know.” I laughed without humor. “He must have thought I was going to turn him in or something.”

  “The men in this worthless town.”

  “CPS showed up, tested me, and took the girls, Salinger.”

  “Oh my God,” he said, grabbing for me. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

  I let him hold me because I needed it. I didn’t deserve it but I needed it.

  “First thing’s first, you need to file a police report,” he said, pulling away.

  “I did. I already did,” I explained, wiping my face clean.

  “We need to get you an attorney.”

  “Already have one through Legal Aid.”

  “What did they say?” he asked.

  “That I need to take a voluntary drug test every week, fix the house up so it’s livable for the girls. They’re working on visitation. Sh-she suggested I get a physical examination. To
, uh, to rule out—” I said, but couldn’t finish.

  He nodded.

  “Sounds like you did everything you were supposed to. Are you, uh, are you going to get, you know, checked?”

  “I already did.”

  He audibly swallowed.

  “There wasn’t… I mean, he didn’t,” I began.

  “You don’t have to say any more.”

  I nodded.

  “Are, uh, are you quitting weed?”

  “Absolutely. I—” I paused. “I am worried about the damage this is doing to the girls.”

  “You’re going to get them back. You’re going to give them stability, probably better than they’ve ever had it, Lily, and you’re going to come out of this happier than you could possibly imagine. You’re going to do all this.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do,” he said. “Eat your eggs.”

  I nodded and did as he said.

  We finished eating and put our dishes in his washer. He took the couch and I slid onto his gray sheets. They were soft and clean and smelled like him. I fell asleep instantly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I WOKE TO KNOCKING on Salinger’s door and the sound traumatized me. I shot up in bed and started breathing fast and heavy. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re not at home, I assured myself. I steadied my breaths then swung my legs off the bed. When my feet hit carpet, I heard Salinger open the door.

  “Hey, babe!” a girl told him, and my heart started beating for a very different reason then.

  “Lyric?” he asked, his voice scratchy from sleep.

  “Yeah, who else would it be, crazy?” she asked him.

  I heard her, like a tornado, whirlwind her way through his apartment, laying stuff down on his counter, it sounded like, and dropping a pair of keys somewhere. I had no idea what I needed to do in that moment, paralyzed by indecision, but Salinger saved me.

  “Uh, I’ve got company, Lyric.”

  There was a dramatic pause and I felt like sliding under his covers to hide.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he said, “quiet for a minute. She might still be asleep.”

  “She?” Lyric spit out.

  Another pause. “Uh, yeah, she. What’s wrong with you?”