A laugh bubbled over the lump in my throat. I leaned on him, resting my head between his chin and shoulder. He felt warm and familiar, and surprisingly serene. He tasted like chamomile and honey. I soaked up his feelings for me, letting them radiate through me like the sun.
“You seem . . . better than you did last week.” It was easier to say, when neither of was looking right at the other. I felt him shrug. Felt the deep breath he took before speaking.
“Yeah, about that,” he exhaled. “I just wasn’t myself.”
“Don’t apologize. I never should have called you a shitty reporter—”
“Oh, so now I’m a ‘shitty’ reporter?” My head bobbed on his shoulder.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” I tipped my chin up to make sure he was laughing. He was. He gave me a peck on the forehead, then looked away, before either of us could second-guess his reasons.
At least Jeremy was honest with himself. He never tried to be anyone he wasn’t, accepting each of us for who we were, flaws and all. He was a real friend, not a paid one. I knew he wouldn’t mind when I asked him to skip lunch to drive me home so I could pretend to be sick for the rest of the day.
I knew he’d share half of his sandwich with me on the way.
And we both knew I wouldn’t have anything to give in return.
16
That night, I pulled back the sheet, a makeshift curtain tacked to the paneling over my window, while I balanced the phone under my chin. I was only half listening to Anh while she bitched about her brother. “. . . so he refused to sign the permission slip. He says it’s a waste of time to spend an entire school day at an amusement park. Instead, he’s making me go on a bunch of college tours out of town all weekend. I’m so pissed!”
Mona disappeared beyond the circle of the neighbor’s security lights. They flickered on and off in succession, the dark snapping at her heels as she stepped in and out of each one, and approached the traffic light at the end of the street.
From the point where she disappeared, a single headlight turned, blinding me as it drew closer.
“I think he just has something against Jeremy . . .”
Reece. He cruised under the same security light Mona had just tripped. My stomach twisted in a tight knot. Was he here to blame me, to tell me it was my fault he got suspended? Or was he here to pick up our conversation where we left off, before his fight with Vince, when he’d asked me what I’d really thought had happened to Emily and Marcia?
“Leigh, are you even listening?”
I dropped the sheet and leaned against the wall. “Sorry, Anh. I’ll call you back. I have to go.” I disconnected, heart speeding up as I listened for Reece’s bike to slow. But he didn’t stop at my trailer. His bike rumbled past and I counted beats until he killed the engine at the dead end of the street.
What the hell was Reece Whelan doing? No one parked at the playground at the end of Sunny View Drive after dark, unless they had business there. And there were only two kinds of business in Sunny View. My mind spun with a sick curiosity. I’d watched men pick up rent-a-girls on the corner by the playground all my life. I was numb to it. But something inside me clenched when I pictured Reece with them. Or when I considered that the alternative might actually be worse.
What if he wasn’t here for the girls? He said he’d been sent to juvie because he’d been busted in a drug raid. How far could he fall if he thought he’d lost everything?
Make sure he stays in line.
Shit.
I pushed off the wall and threw open my bedroom door. The stale reek of Mona’s cigarettes assaulted me in the hall. I grabbed the metal bat and slid back the dead bolt, taking a last deep breath.
I kept to the shadows, careful to avoid the light sensors and trailers with barking dogs, and looped around the block, emerging behind the broken-down playground. Rancid trash gagged me as I crouched low behind a Dumpster and peered around it.
Reece stood near the metal frame of an old swing set. Three car doors slammed in quick succession. The interior lights of Lonny’s Lexus never came on, but the bleached spikes in his hair and white-blond goatee glowed under the dim light of a full moon when he stepped out. He was flanked by two figures, their faces concealed under hoodies.
Hair rose on my forearms. If this was just business as usual, why didn’t they meet at Lonny’s trailer, like he had with Oleksa? Why meet here, in the dark, with two of his thugs?
“You’re late,” Lonny growled.
“I’m here.” Reece shrugged, unconcerned. “Are we going to do this or not?”
Lonny nodded and the hooded figures stepped forward. Reece raised his arms, locking his fingers behind his head. He seemed relaxed, comfortable even, like he’d done it a million times before. Until one of them—the tall one wearing bulky high-tops with red laces—pushed back his hood and Reece stiffened.
Oleksa.
He smiled a rare, cold smile at Reece. Whispered something in his ear. Reece answered with a barely perceptible shake of his head. Oleksa frisked him down both legs, hands running over and inside his leather jacket, quick and sure as they’d been with the Rubik’s cube. Satisfied, he lifted Reece’s T-shirt, offering Lonny a view of his bare chest.
Shadows outlined the muscles of Reece’s abdomen. A nipple ring glinted from his right pectoral and a pendant hung to his sternum, hovering over a dark line that started at his navel and dipped into the top of his jeans.
Lonny nodded. Oleksa dropped the shirt and stepped back. Reece lowered his hands slowly, eyes never leaving Oleksa’s face.
“Excuse the formalities.” Lonny smoothed his goatee thoughtfully.
Reece pulled his shirt in place and rested his hands at his sides. “We’re cool.”
“I believe we’ve already agreed on the terms?”
Reece nodded, glancing cautiously at Oleksa before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small envelope. Oleksa grabbed it and thumbed through the contents. He signaled to Lonny with a jerk of his chin, then stuffed a bag into Reece’s pocket.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business.” Lonny turned, goons at his heels. “Let’s do it again soon.”
“Actually . . .” Reece’s voice was unwavering. “I was hoping you could help me out with one more thing.”
Lonny stopped, but didn’t turn. His tattooed fingers laced around the handle of his car. “And what might that be?”
“I’m looking for a little Special K.”
Tension crackled in Lonny’s pause. When he spoke, his voice was low, deadly. “You’re a good-looking guy, Whelan. All the girls are talking about you. Probably drop their panties just looking at you. I have a very hard time believing you need any . . . social lubricant.”
Reece shifted, darting glances at Oleksa. Lonny’s suspicion was almost tangible. Something between them had turned. Lonny tipped his head, studying him. “It’s an odd request from someone like you.” He shot Oleksa a look. “And it makes me a little uncomfortable.”