“Trey…are you okay?”
Trey sniffled. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I think I’ll be all right.”
“You sure? You mentioned a girl. Who-”
“Nothing.” Trey stood and tried on a smile that looked false. “You shouldn’t listen to me right now. You’re right. I am tired. I need to sleep.”
Jake eyed him suspiciously, but said, “Fine, we’ll let it go for now. But tomorrow I want you to tell me about Myra. Okay?”
Trey flinched at the mention of her name. He shrugged. “Okay.” His gaze went to the floor, and for a moment his demeanor reminded Jake of the way he’d been at Jolene’s house this afternoon. “I guess.”
Jake wondered whether he should change his mind about waiting till tomorrow. It was easy to put difficult things off. Too easy. He had a lot of personal experience in that regard. It was one thing to make bad choices in his own life. It used to be, he wasn’t hurting anybody but himself if he decided to take a drink. That wasn’t the case anymore. Whether he liked it or not, he had responsibilities and he was determined to live up to them. Still, he couldn’t see any harm in letting the poor bastard have some rest before being made to deal with the hard stuff.
“Look at me, Trey.”
Trey shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Then, as if it took tremendous focus, he raised his head, very slowly, and looked Jake in the eye.
Jake nodded. “Good. You and I are going to talk about some serious things tomorrow, and that includes your girlfriend. Got it?”
Trey shrugged. “Sure.”
“Great. Let’s go get you settled.”
Jake returned to the living room a few minutes later. He was relieved to have his brother out of the way for the rest of the evening. He needed some time to decompress, to finally step down from crisis mode. A beer would hit the spot right about now. He considered going into the kitchen to fetch one, but, instead, he settled into a recliner, aimed the remote at the television, and watched some more of the news.
Two black-and-white photos, probably yearbook pictures, filled the screen. At the bottom of the screen, the words, ARMED AND DANGEROUS. A reporter was speaking: “The suspects are Kelsey Hargrove, age seventeen, and William Mackeson, also age seventeen. Police are advising citizens not to approach the boys, but to call police immediately if they are sighted.”
“Fuck.” Jake was very glad that Trey wasn’t awake to see this. “The world has gone insane.”
The latest revelation turned his thoughts again to alcohol. Alcohol was good in these situations. It eliminated problems by blotting them from consciousness. The effect was temporary, of course, but that rarely swayed him. He imagined the taste of cold beer filling his mouth, and the shivery sensation of anticipated pleasure almost sent him to the kitchen to fetch a bottle.
But he stayed where he was. He stared some more at the television. The sensational coverage brought to mind previous tragedies, the mass killings at Columbine and Virginia Tech, and he was struck by how surreal it was to have a personal connection to one of these televised real-life dramas. And he thought some more about his responsibilities to Trey. For the first time since arriving in Rockville, he allowed himself to think about the year of sobriety he’d flushed down the drain. He thought of AA meetings. He remembered reciting the Serenity Prayer while holding hands in a circle. And he recalled the new sense of confidence and peace that had come into his life during that year.
Gone, now.
The most important accomplishment of his adult life and he’d trashed it, surrendering himself to the darkness again with hardly a struggle.
Two days had elapsed.
Two drops in a very large bucket.
Nothing, really.
He could reverse the damage. He could get back on track. He was sober, right now, and he could stay that way if he so chose. If he had the strength.
He heard a door slam somewhere in the house, then a jangle of keys, and he turned toward the kitchen.
“I’m home!”
Jake smiled.
Kristen.
Just knowing she was here made him feel better. He looked forward to holding her again. To kissing her. To, yes, making love with her. He felt a twinge of guilt, but this time it had little power. There was nothing wrong with the way she made him feel. Nothing wrong at all with how much he desired her. Not really. They’d known each other only a very short time, true, but the intense, instant chemistry between them rendered that meaningless. And Kristen was right. There was nothing wrong in giving yourself over to passion. And losing yourself in a new romance was certainly a better way to escape reality than booze.
He called out to her: “I’m in the living room!”
She came into the room through the archway behind him. The faint whiff of perfume that preceded her intensified his desire for her. She leaned over the recliner, kissed his cheek, and said, “I missed you.”
Jake smiled. “I missed you, too.”
Kristen’s mouth went to his ear. Her warm breath felt good on his skin. “I have a present for you.”
Jake turned to look at her, his smile growing wider. “Yeah?”
There was a hint of mischief in her smile. She placed a beer can in his hand, popping the tab for him. “I made it just for you.” She laughed.
Jake’s smile stayed frozen in place a moment, then it slowly faded. He eyed the can with the wariness of a soldier preparing to pull the pin on a grenade for the first time. He opened his mouth, intending to tell her he didn’t feel like drinking to night, that he was too tired. A lame excuse, yes. A way of biding time. Jake recognized this as slippery-slope thinking, a strong indication that his newfound conviction wasn’t really a conviction at all-it was just a fleeting, insubstantial fancy, an illusion of strength. It was ludicrous, really. His whole life served as a vivid illustration of how little mental toughness he possessed.
He closed his mouth without saying anything.
Kristen slid into the recliner with him, slipping an arm around his neck and curling her legs up on his lap. There was another open can of beer in her left hand. She took a swig from it, seemed to savor the beer a moment, then swallowed it with a sound of pleasure. She smiled. “What do you say we get drunk and screw all night?”
Jake managed a strained chuckle. “To paraphrase Jimmy Buffet, that great American poet.”
Kristen giggled and swallowed some more beer. “Let’s waste away again in Rockville!”
Jake looked into her dark eyes and immediately felt again that erotic hunger that had been there before. He ran a hand through her raven black hair. “You are so beautiful, Kristen.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gee, haven’t heard that one before.”
His fingertips glided along her delicate jawline. “You’re like something out of a dream. Like something that can’t be real. An angel come to life.”
Her expression grew more solemn. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Wow.” She spoke in an awed whisper, and there was a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Her face darkened a little. “Please tell me that’s not a rehearsed speech you give every girl.”
“No. It’s just for you.”
“Jake…”
“Yes?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
She kissed him. Jake wouldn’t have thought it possible, but this clinch was more intense, more passionate, than every previous kiss they’d shared. The pleasure seemed to touch every nerve ending in his body. He knew he could lose himself in this girl. Completely. Forever.
Kristen broke the kiss off and knocked back another swallow of beer. She disengaged herself from Jake and got to her feet. She stood before him and finished off her beer. “Drink.” The word was a command, not a request. “Drink, then ravage me.”