The Silent Sounds of Chaos (9 page)

“Fine.” His eventual response was clipped and bitter.

Joe only laughed again. “Don’t get mad at me, punk. I ain’t the one offering the whole town open access.”

“You’re just the one demanding that access.”

For the first time since Finn entered the room, the man at the desk seemed to notice him. He chuckled, a deep and almost friendly sound, even as Joe smirked. “Your momma wants the goods,” he replied nonchalantly, “so I take her goods in return. That’s business.”

“You ain’t a businessman. You’re just a lackey,” Finn shot back.

“Now look here, you little—”

“Enough, Joe,” the man in charge silenced with a wave of a manicured and gold-ringed hand. “Are you really arguing with a child over sleeping with his mother?” He grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the desk and lit it, taking a long drag while observing the teenage boy. In the harsh light of the office Finn felt small and exposed, and hated it.

“So,” Charlie drawled, those piercing blue eyes seeing right through the boy, “Joe gives you his jacket and you think that makes you just like him, huh?”

“No.”

“No? Then what does it make you?”

Caught, Finn had to think about the question. What
did
the jacket make him? The wrong answer would have him kicked out on his ass in a heartbeat. The right answer would give him exactly what he wanted. Charlie waited patiently, fingers tapping lightly against one another.

Finally Finn straightened his shoulders and said, “It makes me just what you need. I don’t wanna be like Joe. I want to be better.”

“Better,” Charlie mused, sparing a quick glance at Joe and seeing his second hand torn between amusement and rage. “Better sounds interesting. But I don’t need better. I need best.”

“Good, ‘cause that’s what I am.” He was glad his comeback sounded far stronger than he felt on the inside.

“The best, huh. Little teenage boy with no experience and no real knowledge of the world is the best to ever walk into my office. Should I bow in your presence?” Lifting a brow, he held out the pack of cigarettes, both an offering and a test.

Cautiously, Finn reached out and took one, holding it with confidence when Charlie reached over with the lighter. He’d seen his mother smoke hundreds of times and tried his own hand at it over the years for specifically this moment. Here, he had something to prove.

Despite all his practice, Finn’s throat and chest burned with the first drag, and he fought a cough as he released a breath in a cloud of smoke. A bitter, disgusting taste filled his mouth but he refused to show any signs of discomfort.

Satisfied, Charlie nodded and sat back. “So, what’s up, kid?”

“My name’s not kid.”

“No? Then what is it?”

“Finn.”

Charlie shot him a look of amusement, one the boy recognized as being dismissed. He’d seen that look too many times from adults over the years. “Finn, huh?” the man at the desk repeated as Joe shook his head. “If you say so. All right,
kid
, if you want to be here and be like ‘ole Joe, or be better than Joe, as you say, let’s try again. What do you want?”

His answer was direct, honest. “Money.”

“Money? You’re barely out of diapers. What do you need money for?”

Finn took a step closer to the desk, staring the other man down. “‘Cause I need it. And I know you got it. Why I need it ain’t any business of yours. So you gonna give me a job or what?”

The man who could just as easily kill him as give him a job sat forward, the lamp highlighting his face in ominous shadows angled along sharp cheekbones. “Some scrawny and scraggly kid? What good is a tired and hungry kid to me?”

“So give me something to eat. See what I can do after I bulk up.”

After a pause, Charlie chuckled and gestured to Joe, who gave a curt nod before disappearing into the hallway. Both boy and man were silent, Finn clenching his teeth together in an effort to keep from shuffling his feet and wringing his hands together, until Joe returned a few minutes later, tossing a burger wrapped in aluminum foil on the desk in front of Finn.

“Eat,” Charlie ordered, sitting back with a sly grin and glancing over at Joe. “Tell my old lady I’ll be late tonight. We got ourselves a new recruit.”

Three hours later Finn stepped inside the dilapidated trailer, hands in the deep pockets of his leather jacket. He smelled smoke and liquor as soon as he stepped inside, saw his mother passed out on the couch, a belt secured around her calf since her arms were too useless for a high anymore.

“Not wasting any time,” he mumbled, not at all surprised to find her in this condition and kicking himself for thinking that, maybe now, things would be different.

Walking right past her without bothering to make sure she was even still alive, Finn stalked to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him before facing inside and taking in the new piece of furniture. An old crib was set up next to the bed, the paint peeling. A small whimper came from the direction of that crib. Finn looked over at where his little brother lay on an old mattress covered in a thin and tattered sheet. The baby was wide awake and, judging by the smell in the room, in need of a bath.

His baby brother was barely old enough to open his eyes, yet already was being left to apparently care for himself. Finn couldn’t believe the hospital workers let his mother leave with an infant she clearly couldn’t care for. Then again, it wasn’t like they could pass him off to the baby’s father, seeing as how no one, not even his mother, knew just who that was. Finn wanted to hate the baby, and indeed was so embarrassed by it that he hadn’t even told Snow his mom was pregnant and did his best not to think about it, but instead he felt sorry for the baby.

Now this little boy, too, was stuck with their mother.

Wordlessly, Finn slid off his backpack and set it on the bed before unzipping the front pouch. He removed a wad of cash and shoved it in his jacket pockets, trying not to think of what he’d done to earn it. Though he knew deep down the packages he’d been told to deliver were full of some kind of drug, he preferred to believe he was just delivering someone’s mail. It was easier to believe than accepting he was now contributing to addictions like the ones that plagued his own mother.

But it was worth it, he told himself, unpacking the rest of the bag. Soon his bed showed the rewards of his less-than-upstanding job: a new blanket to keep his brother warm, a box of diapers and wipes, a two-pack of onesies, jars of baby food he wasn’t sure the infant could eat yet, bottles, and a few cans of formula the clerk at the store said a new baby could drink.

Unpeeling a banana he’d bought for himself, Finn sat down on the bed next to the crib and peered through the bars at his new little brother. He’d never seen anything so small, so helpless, so in need of protection. “Hey there. Remember me? I’m your big brother. Your mom … our mom … she’s pretty useless. No surprise there, huh? But I’m here now. And I’ll protect you.”

It was a promise he’d made the very first time he saw the baby—to protect the child from all the horrors of their world in a way that was never done for him. Finn was never given a chance in his life; he’d make damn sure his brother got one. He’d take care of his brother so the police didn’t come back and bring that too-friendly woman who asked too many questions, so no one ever hurt him and took away all the things he loved most. He may have been embarrassed by his mother’s pregnancy, but he wouldn’t let the baby suffer for it.

“You smell,” Finn commented dryly when the baby only stared up at him with wide eyes that matched his own. “I guess I have to clean you.”

It was a filthy process, one he hoped he never had to do again. By the time he was done clumsily changing the baby’s diaper and cleaning up the resulting mess, Finn was exhausted and wondering why anyone would willingly want to have a baby if it meant doing this every single day. But he pushed on, carefully reading the formula instructions and preparing a small bottle. Not knowing how to hold a baby, he opted for an awkward feeding in the crib, reaching over the bars and pretending not to feel the wood digging into his chest.

“Eat up, baby.”

He frowned at his own words. Finn wasn’t entirely sure what the baby’s real name was. He’d never heard his mother say what she wanted to name him, instead choosing to pretend like her child didn’t exist until she absolutely had to acknowledge him. Her attitude didn’t surprise Finn—he was used to being ignored, so why would his little brother be any different?

“You need a name. And since I don’t know your real name, you can have a code name like me. Makes life more fun that way. I’m Finn, so you can be … Tom!” The perfect match, he agreed with himself. “Finn and Tom. Or Tommy. Or … how about Tom-Tom? I like Tom-Tom.”

His little brother so named, he resumed the feeding, hoping he was doing it right. “Slow down,” he laughed when some of the formula dribbled from the bottle and down Tommy’s chin. With a smile, Finn wiped it away, then gently removed the bottle when the baby was done. Setting it on the bed, he picked up a small figurine and stood it up on the crib railing so the baby could see what he was holding.

“Check this out, Tom-Tom. Made it just for you. I’ll keep it on the dresser ‘til you’re old enough to play with it.”

The baby’s lively blue eyes stared up at the little boy in Finn’s hands. He’d carved it from wood, then wrapped aluminum foil around it like a blanket. Though he knew his brother didn’t understand, Finn liked to imagine Tommy knew, in some way, this was a special gift. And when Tommy took hold of the thumb his older brother offered, tiny fingers grasping for contact, Finn felt his heart clench.

Snow had once said he would be a good big brother. How she could know such a thing, he had no idea, but he wanted to prove her right. Sure, she had said it just to be nice, to make him feel good about himself after he’d given her a compliment, but he needed her words to be true. He wanted Tommy to have everything in the world, everything Finn never had, and for the baby to grow up to be happy.

So, yes, he would continue to do this job. He would make Charlie’s deliveries, no matter how illegal or scary or dangerous, and he would make sure Tommy never wanted for anything.

THE MUSTANG BANKED a hard left, tires squealing as they searched for traction on the rain-dampened road. From inside the sleek red car, bass thumped against the glass. Finn sat behind the wheel, one hand on the gearshift, the other gripping the steering wheel as he upshifted and raced down the empty side road that would take him to his next delivery.

He didn’t worry about speeding. He didn’t bother looking around for cops. He wasn’t concerned by the fact that he was only fifteen years old, driving with nothing but a permit in his back pocket. None of that mattered, because this was Charlie’s car. He was Charlie’s kid. Charlie had every cop in the area turning a blind eye.

He was untouchable.

The last two-and-a-half years had been kind to Finn, in more ways than one. He’d worked hard to maintain his bad-ass appearance, putting his body through weekly exercise to build muscle, trying out different hairstyles in the privacy of his own room to see which one made him look toughest, paying attention to what Charlie’s men wore to mimic their clothing.

But, more than what he looked like, Finn was determined to learn everything he could about his new world. He’d figured out the rules of the trade early in order to make the money he needed to one day get the hell out of Dodge. Charlie’d even set him up with his own bank account that no one could touch except Finn, least of all his drug-addict mother who’d do anything—and anyone—for a little extra cash. Most of his money went in the bank; the rest was spent making sure Tommy had enough to eat, and medicine from the doctor whenever he needed it. Finn had lost count of the number of times he’d refilled his little brother’s nebulizer treatment prescription, or had to get more food because his mother took it all for herself and her latest fling.

A few more years. That’s what he kept telling himself. A few more years and he’d be eighteen, and he’d be old enough to get a place of his own away from this hellhole, maybe bring Tommy with him. Make something of himself, even if that meant following in Charlie’s footsteps. The man had become a father to him, albeit one who would shoot him in the back of the head if it came down to it. But Finn trusted him, was grateful for the chance he gave a hungry thirteen-year-old kid looking for a job.