The Gritty Truth

by Melissa Foster

  “Tell them to save their money and bet on Roni and Quincy,” Penny said.

  “Uh-oh,” Crystal said. “Is Scotty having bedroom issues?”

  “Crystal,” Josie snapped. “He’s my brother, and I don’t want to know that.”

  “Well, if it makes Penny unhappy, she has to be able to talk about it,” Sarah said. “We didn’t have loving role models. But maybe the guys could give him pointers.”

  “Bullet sure could,” Finlay said with a snort-laugh.

  “Truman, too,” Gemma agreed.

  “Bear knows all the dirty tricks,” Crystal said. “You should see how he—”

  “Stop!” Dixie said. “There is a brother ban on sex talk.”

  “Josie and Sarah, cover your ears,” Penny advised them, and Josie covered her ears. Sarah pulled Josie’s hands off her ears as Penny said, “Scotty is totally awesome in that room and every other room. I never imagined falling for a guy as hard as I am.”

  “Then why did you pull out of the wedding race?” Izzy asked.

  Penny glanced at her and Finlay, and Finlay rubbed her belly, a frown forming on her face. Roni and Penny had talked more last week about Scott not wanting a family, and Roni knew how heavily it was weighing on her. From the way Penny began focusing on her gingerbread house, it was obvious she didn’t want to talk about it.

  In an attempt to get the focus off her friend, Roni said, “There’s not really a wedding race, is there?”

  “Of course not,” Crystal said. “But once one of our guys claims a woman, it never seems to take long before they’ve got a ring on her finger and a baby in the oven.”

  The girls laughed.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Jace is chomping at the bit to climb on that baby bandwagon,” Dixie said.

  “Well, Quincy and I have talked about it. He wants to have five years drug free before we start a family, which I’m totally on board with. We’re both so young. I love kids, but I want that time alone with him before we have babies to care for. I’ve gone my whole life without feeling the way I feel with him. Call me selfish, but I’m not ready to share that yet.”

  “Aw, I’m going to cry,” Finlay said.

  Penny tossed her napkin. “Here you go, hormone hoarder.”

  “I think it’s really smart to wait,” Gemma said supportively. “You’ve both been through a lot, and you deserve to enjoy each other.”

  “She’s right. There’s plenty of time for babies,” Penny said. “And I’m sure Kennedy and Lincoln will be happy to fill all of your tiny human needs.”

  “So will Axel,” Crystal chimed in. “Feel free to come over between three and four in the morning, which he’s recently declared as party time.”

  They laughed and talked as they finished their gingerbread creations and cleaned up.

  “Let’s open presents!” Dixie announced.

  “I told you I didn’t want presents,” Josie insisted as Sarah led her to a chair.

  Sarah gave her shoulder a loving squeeze and said, “Sit down and enjoy it, sis.”

  Dixie handed her a black-and-white gift bag with a pink ribbon and said, “This isn’t for you. It’s for Jed.”

  Josie peeked into the bag and said, “Ooh la la! I see a Leather and Lace label.” She pulled out a slinky black lace negligee.

  The girls oohed and aahed, but all Roni could think about was where she could get something sexy like that to wear for Quincy. The way he’d gone crazy for her heels and ribbons, she knew he’d love it. She missed him again. Even with all these girlfriends, she couldn’t wait to get back home and see him, and see her furniture moved in.

  “I’m going to have to google that company,” Roni whispered to Tracey.

  “I’ll hook you up!” Dixie said loudly.

  “I told you secrets are hard to keep in this group,” Penny said.

  Roni shrugged and said, “It’s okay. We’re living together. You guys know we mess around.”

  “Hey, Roni?” Gemma said, looking at her phone. “Tru just texted asking if he had the wrong time to meet Quincy. Have you heard from him?”

  “He went to the shelter. He might be running late.” Roni reached into her back pocket for her phone, but it wasn’t there. “I must have left my phone in the car. Let me grab it and see if he sent a message.”

  She went outside and ran to the car, the cold air stinging her cheeks. She grabbed her phone, and as she closed the door, she caught sight of something in the driveway near the road. She squinted to see better, and as she walked toward it, she realized it was a person. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end when she recognized the clothes Quincy had been wearing when she’d left. She screamed, “Quincy!” and ran toward him, hollering, “Help! Someone help!” His jacket was gone, his shirt torn, and he wasn’t moving. She fell to the ground beside him, and the sight of rubber tubing tied around his arm, just above his elbow, gutted her. “Nonononono!”

  The girls barreled out of the building, and Roni shouted, “Call 911!” She turned Quincy over, but he was deadweight, out cold, his lips darker than normal. “Ohgod, nonono! Quincy, wake up! Please wake up!”

  The girls were talking frantically into their phones as Penny dropped to her knees and grabbed his arm, checking his pulse. “I got a pulse!” she yelled, tears pouring down her cheeks.

  Dixie shouted, “Is he breathing?” with the phone pressed to her ear.

  “I don’t know!” Roni said, tears blurring her vision as she lowered her ear to his mouth. “A little, but just barely. Hurry. Please hurry!”

  “Do you know what drugs he took?” Dixie asked.

  “No!” she said angrily. “He wouldn’t take any! Please, hurry!”

  As Dixie rattled off Quincy’s drug history, Diesel and Tracey sprinted down the driveway from the clubhouse. The other girls shouted, calling out Quincy’s name, trying to rouse him.

  Roni cradled him against her chest, rocking forward and back, chanting, “Don’tdiedon’t­diedon’tdie.” Everything else turned to white noise as she pleaded with him to wake up. Tracey tried to pull her off him as Diesel sank down beside him, but she fought to hold on. “No. He needs me!”

  “Step back or he’ll die,” Diesel barked.

  Roni fell back on her hands, tears flooding down her cheeks. Gemma and Penny crouched between her and Quincy, sirens blaring in the distance.

  “Let Diesel check him out,” Gemma said. “He’s going to be okay, but you need to give Diesel space.”

  “What’d he take?” Diesel demanded.

  “I don’t know. Don’t let him die! Please help him!” Roni pleaded, pushing to her feet as motorcycles and trucks roared into the driveway.

  Tires screeched, and Truman, Bullet, Bones, Bear, Scott, and Jed bolted toward them.

  “Babies in the truck!” Bones shouted to Sarah on his way to Quincy.

  There was shouting and cursing. The girls tried to console Roni, but she fought them, needing to get to him, unable to think past the prayers and Please don’t dies running through her head.

  “He’s not breathing! Starting compressions!” Bones hollered as he started CPR.

  “No!” Roni’s knees gave out, and she crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

  “Goddamn it!” Truman turned with fire and fear in his eyes and shouted, “When did he start using again?”

  “He didn’t! He wouldn’t!” Roni insisted. “I know he wouldn’t.”

  “He’s breathing again!” someone hollered as the ambulance arrived, and then there was a flurry of activity and Quincy was loaded onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.

  “Can I go with him? I want to go with him,” Roni pleaded frantically, but she was ignored.

  As the ambulance doors were closed, she heard an EMT say, “He’s not breathing.”

  Roni grabbed ahold of Penny, a crushing sensation making it hard to drag air into her own lungs. Penny embraced her, and then other arms circled them, everyone talking all at once. “He’ll be okay.” “Let’s get t
o the hospital.” “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  As Truman and Gemma helped her into their truck, all Roni could think about was the EMT’s last words. If Quincy didn’t make it, she didn’t know how anything would ever be okay again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  QUINCY WAS LYING in a bed in the emergency room with two broken ribs—and a broken heart that hurt worse than any broken bone ever could—wondering how the hell his life got so fucked up, when Truman strode through the curtain, jaw tight, eyes blazing with anger and disappointment, cutting Quincy to his core.

  Truman’s eyes narrowed as he hulked over the bed, getting right in Quincy’s face, teeth gritted, as he said, “How many times, Quincy? How many times are you going to try to off yourself and put us through this? Thank God for fucking Narcan.” Narcan was the medication the EMTs gave Quincy to counteract the life-threatening effects of the overdose. “Do you have any idea what Roni is going through right now?” Truman thrust his arm out, pointing in the direction he’d come. “She’s out there bawling her eyes out, trying to convince everyone that you didn’t do this. I love you, man, but what the hell? You nearly died.”

  Narcan had not only saved his life, it had also left him clearheaded enough to know that while Roni might be championing for him now, that would soon change. “I didn’t fucking do it,” Quincy seethed.

  Truman cocked his head.

  “Did you notice my truck wasn’t there? Do you really think I’d fuck up Roni’s life? I love her, man. Do you think I’d do that to you again? To Gemma? To the kids? To everyone in our fucking lives?” He pushed up to a sitting position, wincing with pain, and grabbed his ribs.

  “I didn’t want to believe it, but we’ve been here before. You still had the fucking rubber around your arm.” Truman’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I didn’t do it, Tru. Puck and five of his goons dragged my ass out of my truck at a stoplight when I was on my way to see Simone. Puck did this. He tried to make me look like just another junkie who overdosed so he wouldn’t get caught. He was sending a message to the Dark Knights saying back off or Simone is next. I swear to God. I love you, man, and the last thing I would ever do is put you through this again.” His eyes filled with tears, and he didn’t care, because he was so fucking sad and mad, he was going to lose his mind. “They drove me to some god-awful place and knocked me around. Then they threw me in the car, shot me up with heroin, and tossed me out the door in front of Whiskey Bro’s. The police told me I made it as far as Jed’s driveway. I don’t remember how I got there. The only thing in my head was that I needed to get to Roni to make sure she was safe.” He swiped at his eyes. “Two years and forty-nine days clean down the drain because of one fucking asshole.”

  Truman’s nose flared, his teeth clenched, and the muscles in his neck and arms bulging as his hands fisted. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

  “No, you won’t. You’re not going to prison, Tru—not for me or anyone else. Puck is. I was recording a video message for Roni when I saw him and his guys get out of their cars in front and behind me and come up on my truck. I left the recording going and stuck the phone in my pocket. That’s why I had the doc call the cops. Now they’ve got evidence.”

  “He’ll come after you again, Quincy. That’s not going to put him away long enough.”

  “No, but a murder charge will.” Quincy gritted his teeth, closing his eyes against the burn of tears. “When he was roughing me up, he admitted to killing the guy who was driving the car that hit Roni. Remember when I came to you to borrow money and you sent me away? The next day, his guys found me. I got away, but they chased after me. I heard shots, but I never looked back. I just kept hauling ass.” He swallowed the bile burning his throat, remembering the montage of pictures of Roni in the hospital and her long, hard road to recovery. “He said that bullet was meant for me, Tru. Roni lost her career because I was a goddamn addict. How the hell am I going to tell her that?” He looked away, ashamed and gutted.

  Truman sat on the edge of the bed and tugged him into an embrace.

  “You didn’t pull the trigger,” Truman said sternly. “You didn’t fucking do it, Quincy. You don’t even know if he was telling the truth. He’s been watching you, and Roni went to those NA meetings. He probably saw her there and got the dirt on her.”

  “I think he had eyes on me the whole time I’ve been helping Simone. He definitely knew about me and Roni and her accident. That’s why he told me. It crossed my mind that he could have lied, but the cops called the detective who had worked the case and confirmed that Roni’s accident was September nineteenth, two years ago. You found the kids September fifteenth two years ago, and—”

  “You came asking for money three days later, September eighteenth.”

  “They found me the next day. The timeline matches no matter how much I wish it didn’t. It’s my fault, Tru. Any way you cut it, if I hadn’t been there, she’d be living her dream, dancing professionally, and not out there crying over my sorry ass.”

  Truman took him by the shoulders, leveling him with a dark stare. “You listen to me. You’re not a sorry ass. You’ve been through hell and back, and you not only found your way out of it, but you became one of the best, most loyal and honest men I know, and Roni knows that, too. I will tell her with you, and we will get through this together. She loves you, man. You had that fucking tubing around your arm, and she still refused to believe you used again. She loves you so damn much. Don’t let this send you back to the dark places that swallowed you whole before. You don’t deserve that.”

  His throat constricted. “I’m not going to use again. I’m going back to rehab for thirty days. I’ve already made the call, and I also spoke to my boss at the bookstore. She knows I’ve been in recovery, and she’ll hold my job for me. I’d appreciate it if you could let me say goodbye to the kids tonight and give me a ride to the rehab center. A month should be enough time for me to get my shit under control and for you to help Roni get her stuff back into her place, so she can move on.” He clenched his jaw as more tears came. He swiped angrily at them. “She doesn’t need me and my shit in her life. She’ll never be able to look at me again after I tell her.”

  “You don’t know that,” Truman said, looking as pained as Quincy felt.

  “Yes, I do, and I appreciate the offer to tell her with me, but I’ve got to do this alone. I’m sorry, Tru. The last thing I ever wanted was to put you through this again.”

  Truman shook his head, embracing Quincy again. “I love you, man, and I know going back to rehab feels like a step backward, but I’m so damn proud of you.”

  The lump in Quincy’s throat expanded with Truman’s praise, and he held him tighter. “Thank you.” He released his brother and wiped his eyes. “Can you do me a favor? The police and that detective they called are waiting to question Roni about her accident. They agreed to let me talk to her first, so can you send her in? I’ll be with her when they question her, but we’ll need a ride home, if you don’t mind. They’re keeping me for an hour or two for observation, and then I’m out of here.”

  “You bet.”

  “And, Tru.” His brother lifted his chin. “One more thing. When I’m in rehab, can you look after her and Simone for me? The cops picked up Simone, and they said they’ll have eyes on her and Roni, but you know that isn’t enough.”

  “Absolutely. She’s family, man. We’ve got her back.”

  RONI PACED THE waiting room, trying to hold her shit together. If one more person told her that everything would be okay, she was going to scream. All of their friends were there; even Biggs and Red had come. The support Quincy had was insurmountable, but how could anything be okay? She’d seen the tubing.

  She couldn’t even think about it.

  He’d almost died.

  Truman had explained on the way to the hospital that the EMTs gave Quincy something to counteract whatever drugs he’d used, which was good, but even though she’d seen the puncture wound in his arm, she still
didn’t believe that Quincy would do drugs again. And the worst part was, she knew she was in denial. All of the literature had said not to take a relapse personally, but this wasn’t about her. Quincy using drugs was personal to him—and that’s what hurt so badly. That’s why she didn’t want to believe it. He was too invested in his recovery. Why would he relapse?

  Red walked over and put a hand on Roni’s back. “Can I get you anything, sweetheart?”

  Roni shook her head. “I just don’t believe it, Red. The battle going on in his head must be vicious. One side fighting to stay clean, the other giving in to the lure of drugs.” The words fell out so fast, she couldn’t stop her voice from escalating. “And where’s his truck? I heard two officers asking for him at the registration desk. Did he commit a crime? Was he carjacked? Did he even see Simone? Was she using again? Nobody will tell me anything!”

  “Oh, baby girl.” Red put her arms around her, stroking her back as she cried on her shoulder. “All I know right now is that he never made it to the shelter, and they found his truck still running in the middle of the road in Parkvale.”

  “I don’t understand any of this. I’d know if Quincy was in a bad place, even if he didn’t tell me. I’d sense it. I know I would.” Roni wiped her eyes as Truman came out through double doors, his shoulders rounded in his flannel shirt, his face a mask of pain. “Truman!” She ran to him. “How is he? What’s happening? Can I see him?”

  “He’s good. He wants to see you. I’ll take you back.” He looked over her shoulder at Bullet and Diesel, and some sort of silent message passed between them that included a single nod and made the men stand taller, their hands fisting.

  As Truman walked her through the emergency room, she said, “What was that? What were you saying to them?”

  “It’s best if Quincy tells you.”

  He opened the curtain, and she saw Quincy sitting on the edge of the hospital bed wringing his hands, a bruise and scratches streaking the side of his face. He lifted his grief-laden eyes, and tears flooded hers as she ran to him and threw her arms around him, sobbing.