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“TJ, what?” Brian’s eyes flew open. “Who are you talking about, TJ?”
“Brian, the guy in the camo T-shirt. He told us his name was Chris, but it’s really Barry Rigel. He’s a killer, and I think I know who he killed—”
“For real?” Brian gasped, taken aback.
“Did you know him? You brought him.”
“Not really.” Brian grimaced. “I only met him, like, a week before at the Y, swimming. He struck up a conversation.”
“Yeah, well, he lied to you. He wasn’t who he said he was. He wanted to get in the group to get to me.” I turned on Muttonchops. “Why are you here? You’re with Rigel, aren’t you?”
“Whoa, chill.” Muttonchops raised meaty hands, rising. “What’s your problem? You’re outta line, buddy.”
Jake rushed over, grabbing my arm. “TJ, stop this—”
“Jake, he’s dangerous—”
“Stop. I can’t have this. You’re being disruptive.”
“Listen to me—”
“No, go right now, leave.”
“I’m telling you—”
“Go!” Jake pointed, and I fled the meeting.
•••
the whip hand, read the neon sign, glowing bright red through the rain. It was a neighborhood bar that I used to drink in, among other places. I hadn’t been back because avoiding my old drinking holes was part of the program. So was deleting my drinking buddies from my phone, which was how I ended up with no friends.
Rain dotted the windshield, and I sat in the car, fighting with myself. Every single neuron in my brain was telling me I needed a drink, hardwired against my better judgment. I couldn’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t go in and have a beer, then ten.
I eyed the sign, imagining myself sitting down at the bar, taking that first cold sip and shooting the breeze with Kevin, a nice-enough guy who owned the place. Nice-enough was my standard, since nobody in bars 24/7 was nice. But when you’re drinking, they’re nice enough.
I couldn’t think of a single reasonnotto go in. My father thought I relapsed, so I might as well make it true. Everything else was going to hell. I hated my brother. I was out of a job. Lemaire and Joe Ferguson were dead, with no hope of justice for either. I’d pissed off Jake, and my home group thought I was nuts. I wondered if AA would throw me out and whether I was right about Muttonchops. Maybe I was paranoid, or crazy.
Thud.
The flashback of Rigel came again. I closed my eyes and opened them again, but this time I spotted Emily in her car seat in the back seat. I just now remembered that we’d been singing Raffi together that fateful night,a little white whale on the go, before she’d fallen asleep, loving me, trusting me, and never dreaming that I’d forget she even existed for a Miller Lite.
I wasn’t going to drink.
I started the ignition.
Time to go home and go to bed.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I had a sleepless night, feeling like a loose end to whatever conspiracy was out there. I tossed and turned, and I even double-checked the wire under the couch to see that it was still in place, sending Mango scurrying away.
Finally I fell asleep, but the next morning, I had to start over again and face reality.
I needed money.
•••
greg’s coin & jewelry exchange, read the sign above a storefront in a strip mall, its entrance flanked by bay windows with closed blinds. The easiest thing to sell was my Rolex, and I’d been to two other shops trying to get a good price. My mother taught me to get three estimates, but I doubt she meant my graduation Rolex, with its sentimental value. My father didn’t think a Rolex needed sentiment to have value.
