I tell people thank you all the time. As a matter of fact, I just told someone thank you yesterday.
I told the cashier at the sub joint slash gas station I filled up at thanks a whole hell of a lot for screwing up my fucking sub order. Instead of turkey on wheat he gave me ham and Swiss on white. I hate Swiss cheese. And ham.
“Fuck it.” I crumple it back up and shove it back into my pocket. I need to get home. And Ma knows I love her despite what doctor Likes-to-use-big-words-to-impress-people says.
I turn the tunes up for the entire thirty-minute drive back to my apartment. It’s decidedly calming, despite the backups on the road or the way my mind races over everything that’s happened this week.
And why the fuck do I care?
Donnie Leary got himself involved in shit he had no business getting involved in. I did my job. I took him in.
And now he’s dead.
“Shit.”
Okay, do I have an opportunity to make amends here?
Maybe.
But for what? Another kid from the poor side of town bitching about how his brother didn’t do it, and the injustice of his death is the epitome of the infestation of dirty cops.
Hold up. He is just another kid bitching about this shit.
In fact, the other kid I remember bitching about something very similar to Donnie’s situation was just over the summer. And not too far from where Donnie was found, if I recall correctly.
They never found the shooter there either, but it was implied Thomas Flint was behind that one, too.
Wait.
Why am I doing this again?
Despite my doubts of whether or not it’s a good idea, I pull out my iPhone and tell Siri I need to make a note. “Check out that case from last summer about the… shit!”
He did NOT lie in wait at my own home.
I slip the phone away and park. My brother leans against the outside railing with that smug ass I win motherfucking look on his face.
If I try to make a run for it now, he’ll spin his big ass red and blue flashing lights that he likes to show off and pull my sorry ass over.
I shake my head at him and he smiles.
Dick.
I grimace. That’s all I’m giving him.
“Here’s to family disputes and argument hangovers,” I tell myself as I head toward the apartment.
I grab my shit and lock up the Chevelle. As I stroll over to Nick, I’m formulating a plan to prevent my brother from coming into my apartment. The last thing I need is for him to be aware of the minor I have stowed away in my place, who may or may not be wanted by the police.
“What’s that look?” He laughs, flashing those bright ass teeth that he whitens every six months like clockwork.
“What look?”
He points at me. “That one. You used to make it in calculus class when you were thinking, super hard.”
Because it was fucking calculus. Helloooooo.
“Nothing.” I brush past him. “I’ve got shit to do, Nick, so…”
“Well good, ’cause this won’t take long.”
I start up the stairs. “I mean I have zero time to talk right now─”
“I have zero reasons to believe that.” He follows me.
Fucking A.
I stop and turn on him so he can’t go any farther.
“What do you want, Nick?” Dammit, I’ve got a kink in my neck, now. Great.
His laugh is annoying as hell. “You know what I want.”
He’s talking about the dinner at our parent’s place, of course.
“Again, can’t.” Does he not understand the English language today? Granted, okay, there was a time in the Stiles family history books when celebrating birthdays was, I don’t know, fun?
Not anymore.
“You have to.”
“Why?” I turn and quicken my steps. He stops behind me.
“Because if you don’t, Ma’s making a trip over here, and I think we both know you don’t want that to happen.”
I’m dead in my tracks.
Dead with a capital D, stick a fork in my temple now, please.
“Fuck.” I don’t say it loud enough for Nick to hear me.
“Plus I mighta told her you have a girlfriend.”
Say…
“What?” I pose to jump his ass. My plan is to kick it. Hard.
“There’s that look again.”
“What in the hell would make you tell her something like that?”
He shrugs a shoulder at me. “She’s also expecting you to bring her with you tomorrow.”
“Why?”
My fucking eyebrow itches again.
“Why would you do this to me? Have I killed any pets of yours this week? Did I offend your fucking wife? Just tell me, Nick.”
His huge shoulders bob with each chuckle he lets out. “Relax, Jackie, it’s not the end of the world to be in a relationship, you know. In fact, Mia and I are very─”
LALALALALALAAAH!
“I don’t wanna hear about your sex life, Nick. I’m already scarred for life from Thanksgiving two-thousand.” I turn and stalk up the rest of the way to my apartment. He’s following me again.
“Hey, nobody told you to walk in on us in the middle of the night. That’s what married people do.”
“I didn’t walk in on you, Nick. You were in my room. I needed sleep.”
“You needed to pass out, ya mean. And it was our room, Jackie.”