“It’s not your style to air the Harrison dirty laundry. Aren’t you the one always preaching about how blood is thicker than water?”
Quinn didn’t respond.
“So, what, you’ve suddenly abandoned that platitude?”
“No, not at all,” Quinn responded calmly, giving my hand an obvious squeeze. Before Brady could react verbally to what he’d just witnessed, Quinn jumped right back in.
“Why are you here, Brady? What do you want from me?”
Brady sighed heavily, as if in final protest about my being there; Quinn ignored it. “Look, I thought about what you said during our last conversation. You know, how Mom and Dad always bailed me out of trouble … that I was … what did you call me? Oh yeah, I think it was ‘a sorry excuse for a son and a brother.’ And I realized you were right.
“I know I’ve burned bridges with Tommy and Dougie, and I know I messed things up with Mom and Dad and you. I want to fix the mess I made, but I can’t do it on my own. Quinny, I need your help. I don’t want to talk to Mom and Dad—not right now anyway. I’ve made them a lot of empty promises, and I don’t want to try to convince them that I can change this time—I want to prove it to them. And I know I can … With your help, Quinny, I know I can change.”
Brady was lying. I could see his heat signature, his aura, move around him in frenetic patterns while he spoke. I wasn’t sure how far he was stretching the truth, but it was far enough to concern me.
Quinn broke his gaze from Brady and glanced at me. I could see the tortured look in his eyes. I knew he was struggling to find some way to believe what his brother was saying. The one thing I was certain of about Thayer McQuinn Harrison was that it was his nature to stand up for his family and to support them even if it meant doing so at the lowest points in their lives. And I was sure that Brady knew this about his brother too.
I would have given anything to be able to communicate telepathically with Quinn at that moment, but I couldn’t. Besides, what would I have said? That Brady was being dishonest? That his motives were insincere? How could I tell Quinn that about his own brother? And, as far as I could tell, Brady meant Quinn no physical harm. Still, I feared that the emotional betrayal Quinn might suffer at Brady’s hands would outweigh any physical pain Brady might cause him.
“You still haven’t told me where or how I fit into all of this,” Quinn pressed, turning his attention back towards his brother.
“I just need a place to crash for a few nights while I figure out my next move. I had to get out of Atlantic City so I could clear my head.”
“Running from your bookies again?”
“No,” Brady replied snidely. “I’m all squared away. That’s why I left. It was now or never. I knew I had to leave the life to be able to get my act together. I want a chance at a fresh start.”
“So let me get this straight,” Quinn said with a strained face. “You’re telling me that you settled all your debts and you left Atlantic City of your own accord because you want to make things right with our family?” The disbelief in his voice was audible.
“Yes—but not just with our family. I want to make things right for me too. I want to wipe the slate clean.”
Brady’s aura was still in flux, which meant he still wasn’t being straight with Quinn. Unfortunately, I couldn’t parcel out the lies from the truth. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a lie. I squeezed Quinn’s hand gently, hoping that he would interpret my gesture as a warning.
“Okay, Brady,” Quinn sighed. “It’s late, so I’m not going to kick you out. But this is not an invitation for you to stay either. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. In the meantime, you can couch it.” Quinn let go of my hand, walked over to the linen closet, grabbed a blanket and a pillow, and tossed them to his brother.
“Thanks,” Brady said.
“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” Quinn took my hand and started leading me down the hall.
“Oh, and Brady,” Quinn called out to his brother before we walked into the bedroom, “if you really are serious about this desire to turn a new leaf, then first thing in the morning we’re finding a Gamblers Anonymous meeting somewhere in this city and we’re going—together.”
“Fine. Absolutely. Good idea,” Brady responded. “Oh, hey, I hope you don’t mind, but I took a quick shower and borrowed some of your clothes when I first got here.”
“So I noticed,” Quinn said dryly. “Good night, Brady.”
“Good night, Quinn … and Quinn’s friend.”
“Good night,” I responded as I followed Quinn into his room.
A ton of questions ran through my head, but they would have to wait since Quinn fell asleep almost immediately. I just lay there silently, wrapped up in his arms, listening to the nocturnal sounds of the city. I wondered what Quinn was planning to do with Brady. I contemplated what I would do if I were in Quinn’s shoes.
I also thought about the monkey wrench that would be hurled into Quinn’s life if Brady were to stick around for a while. Selfishly speaking, my relationship with Quinn inevitably would change for the worse. We would no longer be alone in the apartment because there would always be someone else there.
More importantly, however, Brady’s resurgence in Quinn’s life would only prove to make my job of guarding Quinn more difficult. Brady was a dangerous distraction for both Quinn and me. I knew Quinn would focus his efforts more on Brady’s welfare than on his own. Quinn would watch his brother like a hawk, doing everything he could to keep him on the road to redemption, even if it meant putting himself in precarious situations and environments.
And for what? Based on what I had just witnessed and what I previously had heard about Brady, I doubted that even Quinn’s best efforts to help his brother would be successful.
Not to mention there was a good chance Brady was lying about settling his debts. What if his bookies tracked him to Quinn’s apartment? I sighed, knowing this was not going to end well. It was just a matter of time before Brady would disappoint his brother, his entire family, again. I just hoped he didn’t endanger Quinn in the process.
My thoughts were interrupted by rustling sounds coming from the living room. Brady was up and moving about. I slowly got up out of bed, dematerialized, and wandered into the living area. The loft was dark. The only trace of light in the apartment came from the nearby streetlamps, which Brady was using to help him rummage quietly through Quinn’s files, desk drawers, closets … everything. He crept over to the linen closet, reached up to the top shelf, and found a small metal lockbox. He carefully jimmied the lock open with a pocketknife and found a wad of cash inside.
“Good old, Quinny. Always following Dad’s advice. Well, here’s to emergency cash.” Brady kissed the wad of money before stuffing it into his beat-up duffle bag.
I knew that Brady would screw Quinn over, I just didn’t think it would happen overnight. I was right; Brady knew exactly how to play his brother. He had come here with one purpose in mind—to steal from Quinn. How could Brady abuse his brother’s trust like that?
I was enraged. There was no way I was going to let him get away with this. Still invisible, I walked up behind Brady as he was replacing the empty lockbox in its hiding place and materialized.
“Looking for something?” I asked. Brady nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard my voice right behind him. He whipped around and saw me standing there.
“Are you going to return the money you just took from your brother?” I said a little more boldly.
Still on edge, Brady scanned the room. He looked like he was weighing his options.
“I’m only going to say this once: Put the money back,” I said sternly.
But Brady didn’t put the money back. Instead, he shoved me aside and bolted towards the front door with his duffle bag in hand.
Son of a bitch! There was no way I was letting him leave with that money. I refused to believe that the pain I was supposed to protect Quinn from was solely physical; and I had no doubt Quinn would b
e crushed by his brother’s betrayal.
I caught Brady by the arm, stopping him dead in his tracks before he reached the door.
“What the—” Brady exclaimed, apparently startled by my strength.
I grabbed Brady’s duffle bag from his hand and ripped it open, letting the contents fall onto the couch. I couldn’t believe it. Not only had Brady taken the wad of cash from Quinn’s lockbox, but he’d also snatched his laptop, cell phone, wallet, and a document from Quinn’s summer firm that identified his Social Security number.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing these,” I said as I shoved the empty, torn duffel bag into Brady’s arms and started pushing him towards the door.
“Look, I’m not playing games here, friend,” Brady said in a threatening tone of voice. His pupils were so dark they were almost black. Instantly, I closed the distance between us so that we were mere inches apart.
“Neither am I,” I said calmly. I reached behind him and opened the front door for him. “I think you should leave before your brother wakes up and sees your true colors.”
Brady hesitated for a moment, so I grabbed his shirt and escorted him out the door, causing him to trip over his own shoes and stumble into the hallway. When Brady regained his balance, he sized me up. I could tell he was baffled by how easily I’d moved his six-foot frame.
“I would not come back here if I were you,” I warned him as I closed the door and locked it behind me. From the window, I watched Brady run out of Quinn’s building and down the street.
“What an evil little prick,” I muttered under my breath when he was no longer in my line of sight. I wanted to clean up all evidence of Brady’s transgressions before Quinn woke up. Hopefully, he would buy whatever vague version of the truth I came up with to explain Brady’s rash departure.
I put Quinn’s money back into the lockbox and made a mental note to suggest that he find another place to stash his emergency cash in the future. I put Quinn’s laptop back on the dining room table and straightened up his papers as best I could. Then I put Quinn’s phone back on the kitchen counter next to his wallet and his—
Crap! Brady had taken Quinn’s keys. There was no way of hiding this from Quinn; he would have to get the locks changed in the morning. On a hunch, I opened Quinn’s wallet to discover it was devoid of all cash and credit cards. Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought to check Brady’s pockets before I threw him out. Now I was going to have to be up front with Quinn about what Brady had done.
Great. Just great, I said to myself as I went to go wake up Quinn so he could report his credit cards stolen.
* * *
“Damn it! Why does Brady always have to pull this kind of shit?” I could see the anger of his brother’s betrayal building in Quinn’s eyes. They grew so dark and cold that they reminded me of Brady’s eyes when I’d confronted him.
“So am I to assume you caught him red-handed?” Quinn asked me as he slumped down onto the couch next to me.
I nodded affirmatively.
“And you threw him out?”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do. He tried to run out …” I paused, debating whether I should volunteer any additional information.
“You did the right thing, Evie. I shouldn’t have let him stay the night. I guess everyone was right about him but me. Brady is a lost cause.” Quinn sighed. “It’s just … we used to be so close.” He ran his hand through his hair as he leaned backwards. “I still can’t believe Brady would actually steal from me.”
“Well, at least all he took were your keys, some cash, and a handful of canceled credit cards,” I said with a glass-half-full kind of enthusiasm.
“That’s not all he took, Evie,” he said solemnly.
“I know,” I said as I caressed his hair. “I know.”
* * *
Quinn was in a somber mood the entire next day. That morning, he called the building superintendent, who promptly came over and changed the locks on Quinn’s front door. Quinn explained to him that Brady had stolen some money from him and instructed the guy to call the cops if he ever saw Brady again.
Quinn had zero interest in going outside. So we stayed in all day. We drew all the blinds, shut out the rest of the world, and watched movies.
I gave Quinn his space. He barely spoke, and I didn’t push him to open up either. He would talk to me if and when he was ready. Until then, I planted myself in my chair and flipped through magazines to catch up on the latest Hollywood gossip, stopping occasionally to watch a scene or two from a movie or to make sure Quinn had something to eat and drink.
Around midnight, Quinn began to crash on the couch. I didn’t want him to sleep there all night, so I coaxed him to bed. I lay down next to him, trying to digest the events that had occurred over the last twenty-four-or-so hours. I thought about how much I would have missed had I been up in the Archives when Brady showed up. It was the first time I truly understood how important it was to remain on Earth while on assignment.
I looked up at the sky through Quinn’s bedroom windows; it was a beautiful star-filled evening. Instantly, I felt claustrophobic. I had been inside all day, and the thought of being cooped up in the apartment for another minute was insufferable. I checked my watch. In all of the excitement, I hadn’t realized the date of the Second Incident had reset itself to the twenty-fourth of November of this year. Interesting.
Feeling some relief to have a “firm” Incident date, and knowing that Brady would not be returning tonight, at least not using Quinn’s old set of keys, I felt it was safe to go to the rooftop deck for a minute or two to breathe in the summer air.
From my vantage point above, I could see a few people wandering the streets, either heading home for the evening or walking their dogs. I even saw one guy out for a run, the sight of which made me laugh. But it also made me want to take a walk. I needed to stretch my legs. Just a short walk, I told myself.
The next thing I knew, I was walking around the block. It felt so good to be outside on my own. I realized I enjoyed the alone time; it helped me unwind and think things through. I was deep in thought when I heard a familiar voice call out to me.
“There’s my favorite angel,” Ronald sang. I looked up, surprised to see Ronald perched in his usual spot right outside the convenience store. I hadn’t realized I had wandered this far from Quinn’s apartment.
“Good evening, Ronald,” I replied, smiling.
“Interesting night for a stroll, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Cabin fever,” I replied absentmindedly, my head still lingering in the fog of my own thoughts.
“Well, you best be careful now. The winds of change are fast upon us.” Ronald’s tone of voice changed; it sounded like he was trying to tell me something. I looked at him and immediately noticed the unnerving look in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” I asked apprehensively.
“Angel, do you know what time it is?” he asked me, ignoring my question. I looked down at my watch.
“Oh crap!” I gasped in horror. The Incident Timer was flashing red with an Exitus countdown of only seconds to spare. I had to leave immediately. But how? I didn’t even have enough time to run around the corner to inconspicuously teleport myself back to Quinn’s. I looked at Ronald with dread-filled eyes.
How could I have been so stupid as to leave Quinn’s side? I had risked his life for what—the proverbial walk in the park? Waves of anxiety, panic, and nausea were crashing over me; I felt like I was drowning. I didn’t know what I would do if anything happened to Quinn—if I let anything happen to him. I looked around me; Ronald was the only soul in sight. I looked hopelessly back at him.
“It’s time to go, angel!” Ronald said urgently. “Do it! Now!” he commanded.
Instantly, I teleported myself back to Quinn’s loft right before Ronald’s eyes. I didn’t have time to think about the repercussions of teleporting in front of him. In truth, right now I really didn’t care. I couldn’t get to Quinn’s apartment fas
t enough.
I phased into Quinn’s bedroom and turned on the lights. He stirred but remained fast asleep. My head was pounding so fiercely that I couldn’t even focus on the rhythm beating in my chest. I ran over to Quinn and listened to his heartbeat; it was fine. Still terrified, I raced through the apartment, turning on every light switch and looking for anything out of place. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
Confused, I stopped in my tracks and looked down at my watch. It was still flashing, but the countdown had run out. I was at ground zero; the Second Incident should have occurred by now.
Just then I heard screeching tires outside of Quinn’s apartment. I teleported myself outside onto the street only to see the taillights of a black Mercedes limousine turn sharply around the corner and keep going.
Still invisible, I followed the limo. I could only catch glimpses of the driver as the car raced underneath the fluorescent streetlamps that lit the path down the empty road. He was dressed like a professional limousine driver, right down to the brimmed cap that concealed most of his face. I hung back a bit and tried to look at the passengers, but all of the windows were tinted as black as the night sky. The only way I could find out who was riding in back of the car would be to go inside.
What if this was a trap? For the first time, I was nervous about my own welfare. Afraid, I stopped dead in my tracks and watched the car speed away.
“Damn it!” I muttered under my breath as I materialized on the sidewalk. It was only then that I realized my watch was beeping. The Incident Timer was scrolling at an unbelievably rapid pace—again.
“What the—” Terrified, I transported myself back inside Quinn’s bedroom. He was still fine. I sat down on the edge of his bed. I didn’t know what to think about the last sixty seconds. A million questions ran through my mind.
What possessed me to take a walk tonight of all nights? I knew better than to leave Quinn’s side. Whatever the reason, my actions this evening were downright stupid and reckless, and they could have cost Quinn his life.
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