Authors: S.R. Grey
Resigned, I ask. “When are you planning on talking to Kyle?”
“As soon as possible,” Chase says. “In fact, I think I’ll head over to his house tonight.”
Chapter Nine
Chase
I
have no desire to pay a visit to Kyle Tanner, but if I don’t talk with him as soon as possible, who knows where shit may land. Will is spiraling fast.
Fuck.
Damn my mother and her selfishness; damn Cassie’s perverted stepfather who can’t control his sick urges; damn Cassie for running to Will every time shit in her own life falls apart. I’m not surprised Will has chosen to turn to the same things I once sought—drinking, drugs. It’s all about seeking fucking oblivion, dude. You don’t have to deal with shit when you’re fucked the hell up.
But if Will thinks I’m just going to stand around and watch him fall, he’s sadly mistaken.
In my truck, I tug a flannel shirt on over my T-shirt and then drive away from my house. I travel back to the bad side of town, head down the worn dirt road that leads to Kyle’s house of deeds best forgotten.
It’s early, dusk, so the party has not yet begun. When I get out of my truck, I notice there’s no one around outside the old dilapidated frame structure Kyle calls home. The screen door is propped open, though, so when I reach the small porch on the house, I push open the front door and let myself in.
“Gartner,” I hear Kyle breathe out, along with a very loud exhale of smoke, and then a cough.
I turn toward the living room and find my former dealer reclining on the couch, meth pipe in hand. He lights a flame under the glass bulb, takes a hit, and while trying to hold in his smoke, chokes out, “You want some, man?”
I shake my head and laugh. “No fucking way.”
Kyle exhales the rest of the smoke from his lungs. His dark, suspicious eyes meet mine. “Whatcha doing here, then, Gartner?”
“We gotta talk.”
Kyle sits up and sets the pipe he’s been smoking from on a coffee table cluttered with other drug paraphernalia. “Okay,” he snaps, “then talk.”
My former dealer is looking worse than ever these days, skinny and haggard. He’s on his way to becoming used up.
After my ex-perusal, I get down to business. “I don’t want you selling any more drugs to my kid brother.”
Kyle laughs. “Little Gartner? Aw, dude, he’s one cool kid. No need to get all bent out of shape. I only sold him some weed, man.”
“You sold him more than that,” I grind out, my anger rising. “He got pills from someone, and unless the local pharmacy is selling speed over the counter these days, I’m guessing it was from you.”
“Oh, that,” Kyle mutters. “I forgot.”
Yeah right.
Kyle is such a cocky piece of shit that what I’d really like to do is smack the smug look off his fucking face. But I don’t want to make things worse. Kyle knows he has the upper hand in this situation. I have no real way of stopping him from selling whatever he wants to my brother.
So I take a breath and rein in my rage. “Yes,
that
,” I sarcastically mock.
Kyle smirks and I continue to plead my case.
“Look, Will’s only staying with me the next couple of weeks…and then he’ll be back in Vegas. Don’t sell him anything else, man, or there’s going to be trouble.” I level Mr. Ex-Dealer with an I-am-not-fucking-around look. “After all, Tanner, it’s not like you’re establishing a steady customer here.”
I may as well appeal to Kyle’s business side. Better than losing it and pummeling the fuck out of his face, right?
He seems to ponder what I’ve said. Then again, maybe he’s just fading in and out because of the meth he just smoked.
When he finally replies, he says, “I got an idea that might just make us both happy.”
The cocky look on his face tells me before he even has a chance to say another word that it’s something I won’t like.
“What’s your idea?” I ask warily.
Kyle starts to say, “It’s a business thing—”
—And I cut him off with, “I am not muling drugs for you.”
A tense moment of silence ensues. Kyle knows it was his X that sent me away for four years.
“Don’t worry,” he says lightly, trying to diffuse the tension, “it’s nothing like that.”
“So, what is it?”
“Well, the way I see it”—Kyle lights up a cigarette and sits back—“I have a need here. And so do you.”
I roll my eyes.
“You don’t want me supplying little Gartner, right?”
“That’s right.”
It’s fucking killing me to hear this prick call my brother “little Gartner,” all familiar like, over and over again, but I keep my mouth shut. Best tread lightly.
“Here’s what I propose,” Kyle says on an exhale as he leans forward and stubs out his barely smoked cigarette. “Next time little Gartner comes a-calling, looking for a little bud or something stronger, I’ll turn him away. But I need you to take care of something for me. Quid pro fucking quo, man, that’s what shit’s all about.”
“What is this
something
you need?” I ask warily.
Kyle chuckles. “See, there’s this guy who owes me a shit-ton of cash. He’s not gonna pay up anytime soon without some, shall we say, encouragement.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I throw up my hands. “Fuck that. I am not your fucking muscle.”
Kyle leans back and puts his feet up on the coffee table. “Fine, it’s your call, Gartner. But, remember, no favor from you, no favor from me.”
I take a menacing step toward him, and he puts his legs down in a hurry. He cowers back when I growl, “I should fuck you up for even saying something like that.”
“Be cool, man,” Kyle says, his eyes widening with fear. “Why don’t you use all that righteous anger and just take care of my problem? That way, we both win. I promise, Gartner, you do this for me, and I won’t sell your brother a fucking aspirin even.”
I scrub my hand down my face. Fuck, I’m at an impasse. This guy who owes Kyle money, I don’t have to hurt him. I could just scare him a little. Like what I did with Doug Wilson. I got my point across without laying him out, right?
I don’t see where I really have a choice, since I’ll basically do anything to keep my brother from following a path that will lead him to problems far worse than the ones he’s currently facing.
Reluctantly, I agree to “talk” to this customer of Kyle’s who owes him money. “Okay, I’ll do it,” I say quietly.
Kyle gives me the guy’s address, and it comes as no surprise that he lives in the apartment building Kay used to live in.
“You could probably find him there later,” Kyle offers, all helpful-like. “He hangs out in the alley next to that building every night.”
“I know where you mean,” I reply. And sadly, I do. In fact, I know the place all too well.
“Here’s a picture I got of him.” Kyle picks up his cell phone. “He didn’t know I was taking it when I snapped it last week.”
He holds out the phone. I put my hand on it but don’t take it right away.
He glances up. “What?”
“How long have you been planning on having someone fuck up this guy?” I want to know.
“Hey, he’s owed me money for a while now,” Kyle says defensively. “I’ve been exceptionally patient, trust me.”
“Whatever.”
I grab the phone and take a look at the photo. The guy looks pretty strung out. He’s pale and gaunt, with long, stringy blond hair covering part of his face. Even so, it’s clear he’s hitting a pipe in the picture.
“He looks like a real winner,” I say to Kyle as I nod to
his
pipe that’s still on the table.
“Fuck you, Gartner,” he spits. “Just get this shit done.”
Kyle starts to get up, like we’re done here. But he’s not calling all the shots.
“Not so fast.” I shove him back down to the couch. “I’ll do this for you, but we’re doing it on my terms, my timetable.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m waiting till at least Friday night to talk to him.”
“That’s three fucking days away,” Kyle protests.
“Too fucking bad. I need to make sure you’re holding up your end of the bargain. I already checked Will’s room, and I know he doesn’t have any drugs at the moment. So, if I see him staying clean the next few days, I’ll assume you’re keeping your word and not selling to him.”
“Okay,” Kyle agrees, albeit reluctantly. “I guess that’ll work for me. But what am I supposed to do if your brother stops by with that Jared kid? That’s who he’s always with. And before you ask me not to sell to Jared, just know that rich boy buys all the time. He’s a consistent customer, and you’d be stepping on lucrative business if you have a problem with me selling to him, too.”
“I don’t care about Jared,” I honestly state. “But anything my brother asks for, you tell him you’re out of it.”
Kyle agrees to my terms, and I get the fuck out of his house. There’s something about Tanner’s place that triggers the part of me that craves drugs. Spending time at his place makes me want to get spun right the fuck out of my head. And that’s not good. So I take a breath and squash that shit down before I head back to the house.
On the way home, I decide it’s probably best to keep my brother away from Jared for now. I hate to fuck up his new friendship, but I feel a little pressed. I, at least, want Will away from Jared until Friday.
But a short while later, when I announce to Will that he’s not allowed to see Jared until I say so, he’s beyond livid.
“That is so fucked up,” he yells, before he storms up the steps. “You think I don’t make my own decisions?” he yells down from the top.
“Jared’s a bad influence,” I yell back from the bottom of the steps.
Will calms slightly, and offers in a placating tone, “What if I promised not to touch any drugs, no matter who I hang with. Could I hang out with Jared then?”
“I don’t know,” I respond. “Maybe.”
Will stomps off, and I turn to Kay, who has witnessed the whole exchange. Her eyes meet mine, sympathetic.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I admit. “It’s not like there’s some rulebook.”
“You’re doing the best you can,” she says.
My sweet girl is so accepting of my decisions, so unwaveringly supportive. She knows I talked to Kyle, but she has no idea I made a deal with that devil so he won’t sell my brother drugs anymore.
And though here’s my chance to tell Kay, to come clean now, I don’t say a thing.
Three days pass, and since my brother remains drug-free, I consider loosening up on the no-hanging-with-Jared rule. Will pleads his case a few more times, too. He insists his decision to stay away from drugs is solid, no matter what happens or whom he hangs around with.
I inform Will I’m still thinking it over.
Meanwhile, the time comes for me to hold up my end of the bargain I made with Kyle Tanner.
Around nine thirty on Friday night, I am striding toward the front door, as stealthily as I can. No one knows I’m heading out. Kay is in the kitchen, cleaning up after a late dinner.
Unfortunately, she hears me in the front hall and catches me by the door.
“I thought I heard something,” she says, the dish towel she was using to dry the dishes still in her hand.
She glances to where my hand is on the doorknob.
“Where are you going?” she asks, frowning. “It’s almost ten o’clock.”
“Uh…” I drop my hand to my side. “I have something I gotta do, babe.” I lean her way and deposit a light peck on her cheek. “I promise I won’t be gone long, though.”
I start to turn away from her, but she grabs my arm. “What are you doing, Chase? You didn’t say a word all evening about having to go out tonight.”
I glance toward the stairs. Will is up in his room, listening to music. The low bass beat fills the heavy silence around us.
Kay glances to where my eyes are focused on the stairs, and says, “This…your leaving…it has something to do with Will, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admit. “I have to take care of something I promised Kyle Tanner.”
She blanches and asks, “Nothing to do with drugs, right?”
Kay knows why I went to prison, and she doesn’t want the same thing happening again.
“No, it’s nothing like that.” I try to smile to reassure her.
Kay crosses her arms. She’s waiting for more information, but I can’t bring myself to tell her the details, that I’m going out to fuck someone up.
“Kay, trust me,” I say, ignoring the irony of those words, “you’re better off not knowing.”
When I turn away, I add softly, “I’m so sorry.”
Then I am out the door before she can stop me. I don’t look back, either. I know if I turn around and see Kay’s sure-to-be-disappointed expression, I won’t be able to do what needs to be done. I hop into my truck and leave quickly, focused solely on the task at hand.
At the apartment building, after I park somewhere my truck won’t be recognized, I start my search for the gaunt meth addict with the stringy blond hair. Several pairs of blank eyes follow me, distrusting, as I slowly make my way down the alley. There’s not a lot of light, but the flickering flames from lighters as the junkies hit their pipes provide an eerie orange glow that illuminates the darkness, enough so I can see.
I have no luck, though, in locating the junkie I’m searching for—that is, until I reach the end of the alley. And there he is, right in my fucking path. He’s sitting down, leaning back against the wall, legs outstretched, head lolling.
I say, “Hey,” and his only reaction is to open his eyes slightly.
When he doesn’t answer, just stares up at me blankly, I yank him to his feet. Amid his protests, I drag him around to the back of the building.
“What’s this about, man?” he shouts, finally coming to life. “Get the fuck off me.”
I throw him up against the brick side of the building. “You owe Kyle Tanner money, right?” I ask, getting right up in his business. “I’m afraid the time has come to pay up.”
“I ain’t got no money,” he cries.
“We’ll see about that.”
I search the pockets of his dirty pants and discover he’s not lying. He has drugs, of course, but no money.
“See?” he whines after I pat him down some more. “No money, just like I tried to tell you.”
And that’s when I throw a right hook, falling oh so easily back into my old patterns. My fist connects with the poor slob’s face, creating a sickening sound. Fuck, I’ve just become who I used to be, a man resorting to violence to solve problems and exert his will. And just like that, it feels like everything good I’ve been striving to be has just gotten thrown out with the fucking trash.