Beautiful Addictions (12 page)

“Let’s not add to your list of illegal activities, okay?”

Josie shrugged and stared out the window.

“When I turned eighteen, I left my foster home. I just had to get away from them.
I didn’t have anything. So I ended up with a group of kids living near I-65 in the
park.”

“Couldn’t anyone help you?”

“I was legally an adult. No one cared.”

“I’m not sure I’m an adult yet,” he said.

“After a few months Monica found me again. I had just started tagging. Throwing up
pieces wherever I could. She tracked me down that way. She’s a persistent woman.”

“So she got you back on your feet?”

“She told me about my inheritance. Helped me get the money and a place to live. Now
that I’m more fortunate, I bring them food whenever I can. It’s the least I can do.”

“That’s how you know Gavin and Gregory,” Tristan said, placing his hand over hers.

“The worst part is, most of us were better off on the streets than at home.”

Josie exited the car, ending the conversation.

A couple hours later, Tristan and Josie sat together on her couch.

“I’ve got to go soon,” Tristan said softly, running the pads of his fingertips along
the back of her hand.

“What? No!” Josie protested.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do than stay wrapped up with you, but I can’t stand another
day in these clothes, Josie. I have to work tonight.”

When he said things like that, Josie felt dizzy and mindless, like a happy drifting
cloud with no direction. Despite his declaration, she huffed and pushed out her bottom
lip, pouting like a child.

“Okay, I’ll let you go on one condition.”

“You’ll let me go? Am I being held hostage?”

“I guess it depends,” Josie hedged.

“On what?”

“Whether you’re here against your will or not.”

“Touché,” Tristan consented. “Well, the first phase of hostage negotiation is that
you tell me your demands.”

She brought his nearest hand closer to her face, inspecting the small scars across
his knuckles. She kissed each one reverently.

“Tell me about that night in the alley.”

Tristan frowned and curled his lips in on each other, as if locking his confession
away. It occurred to him that Josie had already shared so much that he owed it to
her to share this.

“Next we have the standoff. Ideally, this results in a peaceful ending,” he said.
“But sometimes it ends in violence.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Josie answered.

“Fine. I’ll terminate negotiations by giving in to your demands.”

“Good. I love winning.”

Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to reveal secrets never spoken aloud before.

“I met Fiona when I was sixteen. She was beautiful, in that bought-and-paid-for kind
of way. She was sad like me. I found out from a friend that her twin brother had recently
died. I felt connected to her. At first, she ignored me. No matter how hard I tried,
she dismissed me. She told me she wasn’t interested, but I never gave up.”

Tristan paused and glanced at Josie, nervous about her reaction.

“So not everything comes to you so easily?” Josie asked, grinning.

“No, not everything. After a few months of friendship, something changed and suddenly
Fiona wanted more. By the time we graduated high school, I was completely infatuated
with her. I was valedictorian of our class, had plans to go to Harvard and then law
school. Fiona accused me of abandoning her. She cried and begged me to stay. I asked
her to come with me, but she said her father would never allow it.”

“What did you do?” Josie asked.

“I blew off Harvard and enrolled in UNO. My parents were outraged. They said I was
throwing away my future for a girl. They were right. I knew they were right, but I
didn’t care.”

He could picture the fight in his head, his mother sobbing into her hands, his father
throwing things around the house, cursing and shouting. He remembered feeling numb
and unaffected by the theatrical meltdown. Tristan had only wanted to be with his
girl. It was as simple as that.

“A few months after we moved in together, her father came for a visit. He was an intimidating
man, loved to bully people with his money. He offered me a job. Said I’d be paid well
and all I had to do was be available to deliver packages. He wasn’t the kind of person
you turned down. That’s where it started. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was
delivering illegal weapons, drugs, and cash to some of the dirtiest crooks in the
South. Just like that, I was sucked into a life of crime.”

“Did Fiona know?”

He nodded and fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. Of course Fiona knew, she knew
everything. Tristan knew nothing.

“After a while, I dropped out of school and did her father’s work exclusively. I got
my first tattoo after someone tried to kill me, the Day of the Dead skull on my shoulder.
I also bought my first gun that week. I dealt with the shadiest people. They all feared
me, and for a moment I felt like a god. The power, the money, it all got to me. My
parents begged me to come home. Instead, I cut them out of my life.”

“How’d you end up here?” she asked, interlacing her fingers with his and pulling their
joined hands into her lap.

“The guy in charge of the West Coast had been taken out and I was ordered to relocate.
We moved four days later. When I wasn’t working, I was with Fiona. I could tell she
wasn’t happy, not with me or our life. The more I tried, the more she resented me.”

Josie just shook her head, unable to imagine not being happy with Tristan.

“One night, I was supposed to accompany a delivery from Tijuana, but it was our anniversary.
I wanted to do something nice for her. I got Padre, my second-in-command, to see about
the delivery while I stayed home to surprise Fiona.

“She finally came home around eleven, but she wasn’t alone. From where I stood in
the kitchen, I could see her kissing this guy with all the passion that she’d never
given me. It was a side of her I’d never known. He fucked her, bent over our six-thousand-dollar
leather sofa, and I just stood there.

“It was Fiona’s voice that broke me out of my trance, her declarations of love for
that man sent me over the edge. Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled my piece
and placed it to the back of his head. She screamed when she saw me. She begged for
his life. I wanted to see his blood on her hands. But I didn’t do it. Instead, I threw
everything that was important to me in a bag and left.”

“I would have probably killed them both,” Josie commented.

Tristan shook his head. He’d been a part of so much violence, he hadn’t had the will
to destroy another life.

“I emptied my bank accounts and drove down to San Diego. I got a new apartment and
had no idea what to do with myself. My jealousy and hurt consumed me. I tried to drink
away my anger. That only left me worse off. One night I just walked. I walked and
walked until my legs hurt and my high had disappeared. I saw this graffiti on the
corner of your building. This boy’s face seemed familiar. I was drawn to it.”

“That piece is you,” she stated.

“Yeah. Maybe subconsciously I recognized that. I just lost it.”

“You were so wrecked that I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” Josie admitted.

“I remember your face, lit by the moon that night. When I got home I wasn’t sure if
I’d imagined you or not. I figured I’d made you up.”

“But you didn’t.”

She leaned over and kissed his jaw, then his chin and eventually his lips.

“So you could say that my graffiti led us to each other.”

“
You
might say that. I might say that your dangerous illegal activities captured my attention
long enough to have a mental breakdown in an alley where I was more likely to be mugged
than find you.”

“There’s nothing dangerous about what I do.”

“Right. There’s only being arrested, felony charges, going to prison. No big deal.
Eighty percent of graffiti is gang related. That’s supersafe.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and Alex came barreling in.

“Damn, Josie, I told you to lock this door. You want some crackhead to walk in here?”

His voice boomed through her apartment before Tristan caught his attention.

“Oh, you’re still here.”

Tristan stood when Alex entered the room, his eyes assessing what he thought was a
high-risk threat. Immediately, his hand slid along his waistline, searching for the
gun that currently sat tucked beneath the front seat of his car. He cursed to himself
and practically growled. His muscles twitched, readied for confrontation. Josie marveled
at the ability of Tristan to switch from geek to guardian in a matter of seconds.

“Tristan, this is my neighbor Alex,” Josie said, standing between them now, not prepared
for this introduction so soon. “He sort of keeps an eye on me.”

Tristan’s shoulders relaxed and he held out his hand. They gripped each other tightly
and shook once before retreating back to their corners. As men often do, they sized
each other up. A prickly air hung between them, and Josie could almost hear the snarling
warnings between the two. She knew Alex relied on his size to do half the job of intimidation,
but it was clear that Tristan wouldn’t be intimidated by the devil himself. She felt
only a small tinge of shame at being turned on by the manly display of bravado.

“I’m heading home,” Tristan announced.

He stepped over to Josie and pulled her flush against his body, placing a less than
chaste kiss on her lips.

“I’ve got to be at work in a few hours. I’ll call you.” Tristan nodded at Alex and
headed toward the door.

“Wait, Tristan! Your book,” Josie said.

She grabbed his forgotten book and waved it at him.

“Keep it. I’ll be back.”

He gave Alex a pointed look over her shoulder and turned to go.

Josie couldn’t help the smile that swept across her face as Tristan ran down the steps,
disappearing from view. She closed the door and turned to face her neighbor.

“Well, that was smooth,” Josie said to Alex, rolling her eyes.

“What?”

“That whole pissing contest you two just had. I’m surprised you didn’t just pull out
your dicks and compare size.”

“I don’t wanna shame your man,” he said, giving her his dimpled smile.

“He’s not my man. Give me that,” Josie demanded, eyeing the bag of food still clutched
in his giant fist.

“So what did you guys do for two whole days?” Alex asked, wiggling his eyebrows in
a suggestive manner.

“Not that. I thought about it nearly every second, though. We just talked.”

“Are you gettin’ up tonight? My boy said your piece on Fifth is crazy good.”

Josie nodded. While she loved her art, she didn’t want the notoriety that many writers
did. She just wanted to be seen and heard in a way that didn’t make her vulnerable.

“Tell him thanks. Oh! There’s something you have to see,” she insisted, leading him
down the hall toward her bedroom.

“I’ve already seen your chichis, Jo. They’re amazing.”

She smacked him on the back of the head and opened her bedroom door, glancing at the
papered walls of now familiar faces.

“Come on, I want to introduce you to some people.”

8. Transit

The movement of a celestial body across the face of another.

Mort’s secondhand table was blanketed in government documents. His celebration upon
finding Josie Banks in the California Child Services system had been short-lived when
the path ended abruptly. It had shown the date she arrived and listed the caseworker
assigned, Monica Templeton. After a few months, she went into a foster home, where
she remained until the age of eighteen. The foster parents’ home was the last known
address for her. Mort visited the home and found the only resident to be the couple’s
son.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me out?”

“Who are you?” the man had asked while leaning against the open door.

“Oh, sorry. My name’s Chris. I knew Josie before she came here. I was hoping to reconnect
with her.”

“Josie? Haven’t seen her since she put my parents in prison.”

Mort feigned surprise and shifted his feet uncomfortably.

“Wow, sorry to hear that, man.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know where she is. After the trial she kind of just disappeared.
We only lived together for the two months before I went away to college. Everything
seemed normal back then.” The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “She’s probably
one of those bums living in Balboa by now, she used to like to go there.”

“Well, thanks for your help.”

With a convincingly appreciative smile, Mort left the middle-class home no closer
to finding the girl. It was a long shot, but he’d have to check out Balboa Park. Maybe
Josie had run away and disappeared into the streets like so many discarded children
before her. She could be living under the freeway, begging for change, or sleeping
on benches. He grimaced, knowing that it would be near impossible to find her.

He reached for his phone and dialed the familiar number.

“Speak.”

“Barry, it’s Mort. I think the girl is here in San Diego, but I don’t have proof yet.
She goes by Josie Banks now.”

“I’ll let Moloney know. We’re on a deadline here. Gino Gallo has asked for a meeting
next month.”

Mort ended the call and blew out a breath. He had to be missing something. He was
close now, he could feel it deep in the marrow of his bones. Like a mother sensing
her lost child, he suspected that she was still here in the city. Mort knew, without
question, that his life could never return to normal until hers was extinguished.

*   *   *

Josie sat on the floor of the apartment, familiar terrain for her. A tablet lay open
in her lap while she sketched Tristan’s handsome features. It was easy to see the
similarity to the boy’s face she’d drawn for so long—same piercing eyes, same twisted
grin, same look of mischief even when at rest. He sat on the floor as well, leaning
against the sofa reading the autobiography of Keith Richards. His long legs were straight
and crossed at the ankles with Josie’s thrown over them. It had become habit—if they
were in the same room, they were touching. As if intertwined legs or joined hands
sparked some kind of current that made them truly exist.