By Degrees (10 page)

The door opens and people begin to filter in to Mel’s living room.
 
The relief that washes over me is calming, and it gets me back to the place where I need to be mentally.
 
We’re here for the big meeting followed by a buffet dinner in the garden after.
 
This is where the last group of people will be let in on our plans, surrounded by all the others who’ve already been notified.
 
Tarin has promised to come and to be on time.
 
Ricky assured me he’d get him here.
 
I look at my watch.
 
He has fifteen minutes left.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
 
Scott stops bouncing as he stares at me.
 
“Don’t play hardass with me.
 
I know you see it too.
 
It’s more than just their intensity that’s the same.”

I sigh.
 
“Maybe they have the same intensity and their music style is similar, but that’s it.”

Scott snorts.
 
“And they’re the same size, same color hair, and same attitude.”

I shrug.
 
“Maybe.”

He crosses his arms over his chest.
 
“I’m calling you out.
 
Truth.”

I press my lips together and scowl at him.
 
We have an agreement, so I cannot deny him what he demands.
 
“Fine.
 
I see it, I feel it, and to be honest, I fucking hate it.
 
I’ve been trying to pretend it’s not there since the minute we started following his story.
 
But it’s awful, Scott, okay?
 
It’s really, really awful to feel Austin so close again, so I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He nods, his good humor gone.
 
“Yeah, I get it.
 
I do.”
 
He throws an arm across my shoulders.
 
“I’m sorry I pushed you, sis.”

A lump develops in my throat over that name.
 
Sis.
 
We both thought I was going to be his sister one day, but that never happened.
 
Austin was gone too soon for us to make our family connections official.

I punch him in the ribs, making his arm drop.
 
“Don’t worry about it, bro.
 
We’re all good.”
 
I never let Scott see how hurt I still am over what happened to Austin.
 
I need to be strong for my almost-little-brother.

After he recovers from my abuse with some exaggerated deep breaths, Scott swings his arm up again to rest on my shoulders.
 
“So … who’s ass shall we kick first?”

“I’m giving everyone a free pass today, unless they do something stupid in the meeting.
 
We’ll see what shakes out after.
 
And, Scott … I have something special I need you to do.”

“Yeah, you name it.
 
I’ll all over it.
 
Your wish is my command.”

“We’re moving in to Tarin’s place for at least the first week.
 
I need you to stick to him like glue.”

His arm drops away.
 
“Uhhhh … no.”

I smile, not even looking at him.
 
“Uhhhh … yes.”

“Bitch be smokin’.”

“No, bitch be serious.”

He shifts to whining to try and convince me.
 
“But I’ve got really important shit to do!
 
I can’t be running around playing babysitter all day.
 
This isn’t in my job description.”

I put my hands on my hips and face him. “Oh yeah? What important things?”
 
He thinks he has me fooled.

“
Very
important things.
 
Really, very, super important
things
.”

“Video games are not really, very, super important things, Scott.
 
Try again.”

“Maybe not to you!”
 
His face gets pink with indignation.
 
He’s sensitive about his gaming.
 
I think he spends so much time doing it just to avoid contact with other humans, and it makes me hate the games like they’re bad people.
 
He thinks he’s developing hand-eye coordination which will somehow be critical to future plans he hasn’t even made yet.

“If it makes you feel better, you can bring your stupid games to his place if he doesn’t already have what you need.”

His arguments go silent.
 
Then he sighs.
 
“For how long, did you say?”

“A week or until we’re sure he’s playing fair and doing what he says he’s doing.”

Scott shifts from his whining voice to his negotiating one.
 
“I’ll need a raise.
 
And money for expenses, too.”

“I figured.”

“And lots of mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“Done.”

“That was too easy. Fuck. I should have asked for a car or something.”

“I already bought you a car on our last job, remember?”

“Okay, a Vespa, then.
 
I should have asked for a Vespa.”

I smile.
 
“Play your cards right and maybe it’ll happen.”

He grabs my arm.
 
“Are you serious?
 
Because don’t play with me like that if you aren’t.
 
You know how much I want a Vespa. I’m Vespa Desperate.
 
It’s a medical syndrome, you know.
 
I see Vespas and I want to chase them down the street like a rabid terrier.”

I smile and say nothing more.
 
It’s going to be fun torturing him with his scooter obsession.
 
For some reason he denies himself the things he wants most, even though he makes enough money at this job to buy pretty much whatever he wants.
 
The only nice things he has are gifts from me and the video games his brother gave him before he died.

“I need a red one. Or blue.
 
But
not
pink.
 
Don’t you dare make me ride a pink one. Because it’s a Vespa, so I’ll have to ride it anyway, but everyone will think I’m gay, which I’m not.
 
Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay.
 
Unless people think you are when you’re not.
 
That would suck major donkey balls.
 
Not that I’d know anything about sucking balls, but I assume it would be really unpleasant...”

“Could you shut up now?”

“Yeah.
 
Right now, I can.
 
I’m shutting up.
 
Right this second.
 
I’m not going to say a single other solitary word to you.
 
Not one.
 
Not even one.
 
Just don’t forget about the Vespa and it not being pink.”

I step close enough to elbow him sharply in the ribs before moving off to join Mel at his side.

“Ready for the big reveal?” I ask.

“I think so.”
 
He glances at me.
 
“Call me hopeful at this point, but I thought the meeting this afternoon went really well.”

“Yes.
 
Better than I expected, actually.”

“That isn’t how it usually goes?”

“Not necessarily.”
 
I don’t give him details about how Tarin flipped a switch in the middle of our negotiation and suddenly became perfectly amenable to changing his whole life.
 
Mel’s already stressed enough as it is; I don’t need him trying to figure out the mystery that is Tarin when he has so many other things to manage.

We both turn our attention to the group that’s gathering.
 
It’s a motley crew with everything from straight-laced preps to drugged-out losers.
 
None of them is Tarin.
 
The last person in the door is Zach.
 
He walks over to us, his expression dark.

“What’s wrong?” asks Mel before Zach is even close.

“Can’t find Tarin.”

My heart sinks.
 
“Did you call Ricky?” I ask.

“Yeah.
 
Tarin ditched him earlier today and left him driving around town looking for him.”

“Who’s responsible for this? … Because I know it’s not Ricky,” I’m pissed, ready to kick ass and take names.
 
No way am I going to let Tarin get dragged down any farther.
 
I had him for a moment today, totally connecting on an eye-to-eye level, and it was enough to tell me this can work.
 
The conversation I just had with Scott about Tarin being so much like Austin only makes the whole thing feel more urgent.

Zach responds.
 
“My guess who’s responsible?
 
Jelly.
 
She was with him at the time. He got a phone call, told Ricky to wait for him outside a restaurant, and when he wasn’t out an hour later, Ricky went in looking for him.”

“Where was he?” Mel asks.

Zach shrugs.
 
“He wasn’t anywhere.
 
He hadn’t even stayed to eat. Must have gone right back out the front door when Ricky wasn’t looking.”
 
Zach’s shoulders sag.
 
“I should have been with him.
 
I should have known he was being too easy about the whole thing.
 
Tarin never does anything the easy way.”

I push away the anxiety that wants to take over.
 
“Don’t worry about it, Zach.
 
Now we know he’s going to fight us a little.
 
We’ll do better next time.”
 
I’m pulling out my phone to start making calls to people who might be able to locate him when the door opens and three laughing, snorting people come stumbling into the room.

Tarin
.
 
My heart skips a beat at how messed up and handsome he is.
 
I have to work really hard to not shoot daggers at the idiots with him.
 
Tarin, Jelly the dingbat, and Brett the druggie are all standing together, laughing at some private joke. The three stooges. Maybe it’s just paranoia, but I suspect their mirth has something to do with me, since they keep looking at me and giggling rudely all over again.

Zach looks like a bird with ruffled feathers, so I put my hand on his arm.
 
“Just leave them to me.”

He stares down at me for a few seconds and then nods.
 
“Probably better that you do it.
 
I’m about ready to crack a couple skulls right now.”

“I know the feeling,” I say, earning a smile from him.
 
I turn my attention to Mel.
 
“You can stay or go, your choice.”

“I’ll stay.
 
No need for you to have to do this on your own.
 
I hate to admit it, but I feel somewhat responsible for this whole mess.”
 
His face sags and he looks every bit his age for a change.
 
It’s sad to see him resembling an empty balloon.
 
An empty balloon with a comb-over is about as pitiful as it gets.

I pat his arm.
 
“You’re not to blame for his bad choices.
 
And if you hadn’t called, things would be worse.
 
Let’s just get tonight over with and tomorrow morning we’ll start getting him back.”

Mel nods.
 
“Good.
 
I leave him and the rest of us in your hands, then.
 
I’ll be over in the corner with a triple scotch if you need me.”
 
We share a wry grin before I move to confront Tarin and his buddies.

Tarin’s head comes up from Jelly’s neck as I approach.
 
Zach is behind me and Scott is behind him.
 
Everyone else is watching intently and the room goes quiet.
 
Dave and Stick take a few steps and get behind their bandmate.
 
At first I worry that it’s going to be a showdown between all of them and me, but then I see the shame in their eyes.
 
They’re pissed at their friend, and it fills me with a new strength of purpose.
 
I have their support and it’s going to make a world of difference.

“You’re late,” I say.

Jelly, Brett, and Tarin all giggle, Jelly more than the other two.
 
She’s clearly wasted, barely able to stand without Tarin’s help.

“Not much,” Tarin says.
 
“We’re here now.
 
Go ahead and do your worst.”

I give him a tight smile.
 
“Fine.”
 
I turn to Zach, happy to see that Leonard has also arrived with Ricky right behind him.
 
“Zach, would you do me a favor and escort Jelly and Brett off the property?
 
I need you to take them back to Tarin’s place, clean out their stuff, and deliver them to their own houses.”

Zach nods once and steps up to my side, waiting for me to finish.

I look at Jelly who has finally stopped laughing.
 
She’s staring daggers at me.
 
“Jelly, I’m sorry this didn’t work out between you and Tarin, but you have to go.
 
Consider your relationship over.”

Her jaw drops.
 
She gives a half-hearted laugh but then stops suddenly.
 
“Go to hell,” she spits out.
 
“You don’t decide where I go.”
 
She looks to Tarin and whines, “Tell her, babe.
 
Tell her to go fuck herself.”
 
She tries to put her hand on his chest, but she hits his chin instead.

Tarin instantly gets angry, pushing her hand away, causing her to stumble back against Brett.
 
He catches her, his expression leaving no doubt as to how he feels about me.