“Come meet your new brother and sisters. There’s a good girl.”
There are four children strategically placed around a kitchen table, each in various stages of age and dress and cleanliness. Three, the girls, ignore her, but one, the oldest, a boy who looks to be at least twelve, though she’ll find out later he is only ten, stops eating and stares at her. He has olive skin and dark blue eyes, one of which squints a bit.
“Your parents are dead,” he says, not a question, just a flat, empty statement of fact.
Aubrey nods.
“Mine are, too,” he says. “Sit here. My name is Tyler.”
CHAPTER 13
Aubrey
Today
Aubrey walked down the stairs slowly, carefully. Winston was pawing at the front door, mouth moving so frantically that spittle flew from the corners. His gray tail stood straight out behind him like a pointer.
“Winston. Stop!”
She didn’t mean for her voice to be so sharp, but she couldn’t help it. Winston looked at her in surprise but quit barking. He sat down hard, still staring at the door.
Knock, knock, KNOCK!
He wasn’t being polite anymore. The hits reverberated through, making the wood shimmer. Aubrey took a deep breath and turned the knob.
She was greeted with the smile of a handsome dark-haired man. His visage was both completely foreign to her and utterly familiar. One bulkily muscled arm leaned against the doorjamb. His dirty hair was shaggy, unkempt, long over his collar, and he sported a Titans football jersey in pale blue. It had the number 9 and MCNAIR on the back. She recognized this not because she was a football fan, but because she mailed the shirt to him at the penitentiary as a Christmas present the year McNair was murdered.
That he’d shown up wearing her shirt was meant to be a message:
I come in peace.
No. Never peace. Not from her past.
“Tyler,” she said, cautiously. Not a greeting, a welcome, or an invitation, just a statement. She knew better than to leave any room for interpretation.
“How ya doin’, little sis?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why? You’re my sister, just as good as if you were born that way.”
Aubrey didn’t respond.
“Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”
“No.”
Tyler flashed his grin again. Tyler had impeccably white teeth that were remarkably straight for one who’d never benefited from orthodontia. She wondered how it was possible that he had maintained them, after all these years, all his problems. Stayed off the crack, stuck with the needle. Smart of him. When he smiled, it took her back, and she didn’t want to go there.
Since that day, when she was such a young girl, so scared, so lost, Tyler had stepped up and she’d thought him a leader. But she soon learned he was the follower, desperate to be liked, respected, feared. Once he found that the weightier the gun in his hand, the more respect he earned, he was lost to her forever. When he started using the product he was selling, it was over for him.
“When did you get out?” Aubrey asked.
“Invite me in, sister.” It was not a request. Aubrey moved away from the door and allowed him entry. She couldn’t stop him if he wanted in anyway—he was twice her size—though it was nice to pretend he’d have some respect for her wishes. Then again, he never had, so why start now?
She shut the door behind him and wedged her back up against it. Winston, seeing Tyler, sniffed the air a few times and steadily backed away, disappearing into the kitchen.
“When did you get out?” Aubrey asked again.
Tyler’s eyes slid to the side. She looked at what he looked at, wondering. Together, they took in the small living room: the brown leatherette couch that had a large rip in the middle cushion, the tan carpet that needed vacuuming, Aubrey’s running shoes stacked against the back door, the vertical blinds, half open, half-mast, dusty. A mess, but it could be worse. At least there were no signs of Boden.
She hoped the flush she felt when she thought of him didn’t show on her cheeks.
What did Tyler want? What was he looking for?
Now, Aubrey, why do you immediately assume he’s after something? Why can’t you let him come say hello after a long absence? Why do you have to turn it into something else?
Because you know him, better than anyone.
“I got out a few days ago,” Tyler finally replied. He was hedging.
The hangover came back, biting at her stomach and head with vicious snaps. She didn’t have the energy for this.
“I’m making a cup of tea. Would you like one?” She broke Tyler’s gaze and left him standing in the foyer. Walked toward the kitchen. He followed.
“Tea? What kind of * do you take me for?”
She tossed a smile over her shoulder, and at the same time, they both said, “A biiiiiig fuckin’ *.”
She relaxed. Tyler was just here as a brother, wanting to mooch some money, food, and alcohol, and he’d be on his way.
“Got any eggs?” he asked hopefully, following her into the kitchen.