Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One (King, #5)

“Must have been something real bad,” he pointed out, leaning down to pat Oscar on the head.

I looked to the floor then back up at Preppy. “It was,” I admitted, and like every time I thought about the event that lead up to me making bad decision, after bad decision, it was like I was bringing it back to life so it could stab me in the gut over and over again.

My thoughts quickly turned to using. The immediate euphoria. The relief from the guilt. Preppy cleared his throat.

I opened my eyes, although I didn’t remember closing them, to find that Preppy was now standing next to the open window, lighting a joint and leaning against the ledge. “Where’d you go there, Doc?” He took a long drag. “You thinking about hooking up with your lover? I’ll let you know that it’s probably not a good idea. That bitch heroin gets around and in the end, the break up is brutal, but she’ll never leave you, so you either dump her on the side of the road like a hitchhiking hooker, or you stay and she’ll kill you.”

“I know,” I said, needing to desperately change the subject. The thought of using too fresh on my mind. “This said by the man smoking weed.”

He held up the joint. “This shit won’t kill me. You don’t see anyone smoking weed and going on a murdering spree, or hitting a bong and going out to start a fight at a bar. Besides, weed’s not a drug. It’s a plant.” He picked up one of the glass bowls and shook the leaves.

“Is that what you tell yourself so you can tell people you don’t do drugs and actually believe it?”

“Fuck no, wouldn’t work anyway. I do bowlfuls of blow when I feel so inclined,” Preppy said, taking another long drag and blowing it out the open window. “There’s a big difference between a party, and a problem, though, especially one that ends with an attempted high-dive off the water tower.”

“Point made.” I’d never needed a change in subject so badly in my entire life.

“Who’s been taking care of Mirna?” I asked. I felt stupid that I had to ask this question from a virtual stranger.

“I look in on her and so do a few of her friends and a few people from the church. She’s on a waiting list for one of those assisted living places in Sarasota. They could have an opening tomorrow or in six moths. They’re not sure.” He looked like he was thinking about something before adding, “It’s getting worse and worse, you know. She’ll have a few days where she’s out of it, but then suddenly she’ll go for weeks being just fine. This past week she was in and out, but mostly out. That’s the most I’ve seen her like that for,” Preppy said, confirming what I’d already thought but hoped wasn’t the case.

My heart sank. “Can I have time with her? I don’t deserve it. But once you tell her that I was one of the people involved in stealing from her, she won’t want anything to do with me, but I just want some time.” I paused. “Before it’s too late.”

“You can have time,” he said, eyeing me warily. “But I’ll want some stuff in return.”

“What…what do you want? I’ll do anything,” I asked, immediately regretting my choice of words. His amber eyes reminded me of rich dark honey as he stalked across the room. He stopped in front of me and startled me by untying the sash at my waist and pushing my robe over my shoulders onto the floor. I felt the heat of his stare as he raked over my naked body, lingering on the place between my legs. I pressed my thighs together and he laughed, biting his bottom lip.

I shivered, unsure if it was because of his intense inspection of my body, the air conditioning vent kicking on above me, or from good old fashioned fear. “Just tell me what you want,” I said, wanting whatever this was to be over.

Preppy chuckled. “Take care of Mirna. Help me fix this shit, too.” The glimmer of something evil sparked in his eyes, the same spark I’d seen on the water tower, and that time my shiver was because of fear. “And get yourself together. I need you to not look like the kid from the Jungle Book for what I have planned for you. Think less Courtney Love, more Jennifer Love.”

“Haha, funny. Is that all?” I asked, wary that I was getting off too easy and trying to avoid the need to knee him in the balls.

“Oh, that’s far from all, Doc.” He stepped back, and I bent down to gather my robe, covering myself quickly. “Far, far from all.”

Preppy went back to his work, and I left to find some real clothes. I was looking through drawers in my old room, hoping to find a t-shirt or pair of sweat pants, when Preppy appeared in the doorway.

“I forgot to tell you something,” he said, punching numbers on his cell phone and placing it back in his pocket.

“What?” I asked, pulling out an old boy band t-shirt from the bottom drawer.

“You remember what I said about using H again, right?”

“You mean when you said that either I break up with her or she kills me?”

“Yeah, well I forgot to add one tiny little thing,” he said.

“What’s that?”

He stepped into the room and lowered his voice. He stood over me, leaning on the dresser. His shoulder brushed mine. “If you do use again, make sure you’re far, far away from Logan’s Beach and Mirna first, because if you fuck her over again, I’ll kill you long before the heroin will.” He smiled happily, as if he hadn’t just threatened my life. “Mmmm…kay?”





CHAPTER TEN





DRE


Preppy had told me to take care of Mirna, but he still stopped by every afternoon to check on her before locking himself in the grow-room for at least an hour. Either, he wasn’t up for conversation, he was purposely avoiding me, or he hadn’t figured out exactly what it was I could do for him, in return for giving me time with Mirna. But then, I realized that wasn’t it at all. He wasn’t avoiding me.

He was toying with me.

Every time he was near, he found a way to touch me and make me jump. He winked at me when Mirna wasn’t looking. He undressed me with his eyes every chance he got, and he’d laughed when I squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.

But talk?

Nope. Not to me, anyway. Although, with Mirna he happily chatted and made small talk, like he wasn’t there to torture me with his presence, the lingering favor looming between us.

I should have been happy he didn’t want to talk to me but was oddly annoyed by the whole thing.