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Three as in me, my cousin Connor, and Byzantine. The latter happens to be her best friend’s boyfriend and Connor’s second-in-command.
“Lucy needs this. Evenyouknow that. She’s been out of the commune for over a year now and—and she’s ready to explore a little.” She rolls her eyes again and sighs. “For whatever reason, her mind is set on a road trip across the country,” she says with a snark.
Both she and Lucy were raised inside Sacro Nuntio, a fucked up religious cult a few hours away from Noxport. Lenix ran away when she was sixteen, but Lucy only managed to escape thirteen years later with the help of her sister and the Sin Eaters, Connor’s organization. He inherited it sixteen years ago when he was only twenty-one after his father died during a shoot-out. We’ve been running Noxport ever since.
Lenix raises her hands in exasperation and shrugs. “What am I going to do? Just leave her to go alone?”
“Then you should go with her.” I try to make my exit again.
“I can’t just up and leave for a month,” she says with a huff.
Turning back around, I glare at her. “And I can?”
“I thought one of the selling points of being a tech genius is that you can do your job anywhere,” Connor drawls with a raised eyebrow.
I glance at him, keeping my expression blank.
He settles back in his leather chair, his hand smoothing over his mustache. “I’ll give you two hundred grand.”
Fucker thinks he can tell me to jump and I’ll ask how high. Irritation roils in my gut while I pick at the hangnail on my thumb. As much as I want to tell him to go to hell, I know I won’t be leaving this room the victor. While Connor istechnicallymy boss, he lets me undermine him on occasion. He’s still at the helm of the Sin Eaters—I’m just the resident hacker—and unfortunately, he’s right, I can do my job from anywhere. Saying no will be fruitless.
Annoyed I won’t win this, I decide to aggravate him further just for the sake of it. “Half a million.” I don’t need his money, but it feels good to fuck with him.
Connor scoffs, steepling his hands over his open suit jacket. But whatever he was about to say dies a quick death when Lenix shoots him a look, and his mouth falls closed, lips slightly pinched.
She glances back at me and smiles. “Deal. You leave next week.”
I wade through the thick pool of dread, swallowing hard, and slowly nod, face vacant but inside I’m raging. I can’t fucking believe I’m being roped into accompanying Lucy on this ridiculous road trip. It’s not that I don’t like Lucy—she’s nice, maybe a little too kind, too soft, too… everything I’m not. I just don’tlikemuch of anything. And picturing having to spend long stretches of time in the same car with no other distraction but stilted conversation and music I will most likely despise, is starting to sound worse than the time I got shot in the arm.
This time when I turn away, they don’t stop me. I leave without saying another word.
* * *
When I getto my industrial loft, located in an artsy neighborhood near Old Town, I keep the lights turned off. There’s enough moonlight streaking through the large windows for me to see. I tread softly over the haphazardly placed oriental rugs, taking up most of the space in the vast room, eventually reaching the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I grab a beer and crack it open. I take a swig while heading to the space I designated as my office.
When I got clean, I stayed away from any kind of substance until I felt stable enough mentally not to have it trigger theothercraving. It was over a year before I trusted myself with a few drinks here and there. I was never a huge drinker anyway, just something to take the edge off every once in a while.
But the craving never really does go away. Especially during those first few months when all I could think about was my next potential hit. Always at the back of my mind, whispering soft nothings and promising such sweet release.
But I never listen. At least… not yet.
Swiveling the computer chair around, I sit and face the wall of monitors I have set up for work. I move the mouse, waking up one of the main ones. Sitting there for a few minutes, lost in thought, I sip my beer until something makes me reach for the middle drawer of my desk. Hiding under a pile of loose papers, I find the leather-bound notebook I used to carry around when I was younger. I’m not sure why I’m even opening it now, flipping through the crinkled pages arbitrarily, until I fall on a list I made when I was going through my withdrawals.
It must have meant something. I vaguely recall an aching feeling attached to the list itself. But there are too many years separating me from whatever awareness I was experiencing. Maybe it was simply a melancholic side effect of getting clean. The memories are muddy at best now, the trauma of going cold turkey in a shack effectively rationalized and filed away as being dealt with.
Still, I can’t help but scan the pages, ignoring the small pinch the words have on my heart. The feeling doesn’t even make sense.
It’s just a list of objects and things.
US... blue… cowboy hat... flamingo... magnets…
I’ve tried to find patterns. I’mgoodat finding patterns. But this list has always stayed a mystery. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. A list made by an eighteen-year-old junkie. Whywouldit make sense? I slam it shut and throw it back into the middle drawer. I run my fingers through my hair, exhaling loudly, and stand up. Draining the rest of my beer, I throw the can in the wastebasket beside me. Staring out the windows, the cityscape twinkling awake, my mind circles back to the impending road trip with Lucy. Apprehension squeezes my stomach like a vice.
How the hell did I end up here?
2
“You didwhat?”
