“That’s my brother you’re talking about,” he warns.
I sit forward, leaning my elbows on my knees. “You think I give a rats ass about who he is? You know as well as I do that everything I just said is true.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“Not now!” Pop shouts.
“Err, Bear, Snake? You’re needed out here,” a muffled voice calls through the door.
“We said not now!” Pres shouts.
“Jacky Boy is back, he doesn’t look so hot,” they say again, and I’m out my chair quicker than the both of them, throwing open the door and running toward the common area.
My fists ball up as I take in the sight before me. Jacques is swaying side to side with a bottle of jack attached to his hand, taking long glugs straight from the source. He has a cut on his eyebrow and his jaw is starting to turn a nasty shade of purple.
What the hell has he been up to?
We all stand and watch until his eyes roam the room, landing on me.
“‘Sup, bro,” he slurs with a lazy grin.
“Jacques, you alright?” I ask, proceeding with caution.
There’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before, one I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Pop asks, interrupting us.
I close my eyes and sigh as Jacques throws the bottle back and gulps before answering him. “I’m a big boy now, don’t have to let you know where I am twenty-four seven, pops.” He laughs it off but he’s being deadly serious.
“Pop, I’ll look after him tonight.” I say and he nods. “We’ll continue our conversation in the morning.” I direct the words at Pres and he scowls at me but I ignore him, I’ve got more important things to worry about.
Where’s Jacques been? And who would mess up his face like that?
Whoever it was, I’m going to kill them. Nobody messes with my family and gets away with it.
When I turn to help Jacques to my room, he’s gone. Prospect Whitey points to the back door and I push it open leisurely to find him sitting at one of the benches outside with a bottle of vodka he must’ve snagged on his way out. I sit down next to him and rest my elbows on the wooden top, looking up at the stars.
“It’s a big ass world out there, full of more people than you could possibly ever meet. And you happen to manage to bump into people that would have a problem with you.” I state but he doesn’t say anything. “Where’ve you been, Jacques?” I prompt.
He sways and looks sideways at me but doesn’t say anything. His face is full of anguish, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this, not since mom died anyway.
He looks away and lazily picks up the vodka bottle but I take it off him before he puts it to his mouth.
“No you don’t, I think you’ve had enough.” I state.
His face changes and he seems to sober up a little. “Fuck you, Hunter. You’re not my pop.”
My head jolts back as if he physically hit me. He’s never spoken to me like that in all his eighteen years, and I sure as shit won’t put up with it now. I grab him by his t-shirt scruff and pull him toward me.
“No, I’m not. I’m your brother! Don’t ever talk to me like that again. If I say enough is enough, you fucking listen, got it?”
I’m inches away from his face so I see the telltale sign of the waterworks starting and pull him up and through the side door so no one will see him. I’m practically dragging him as he hangs his head in his hands and sobs, real heart wrenching sobs.
My heart constricts.
Something’s not right.
I get him on my bed and he rolls onto his side, hugging the pillow for comfort. I’m completely out my element, I don’t know what to do, so I just let him get it all out until I hear the sound of soft snores telling me he’s passed out.
I sit on the edge of my bed and hang my head in my hands. Seeing him like that tears me up inside, there’s ten years between us but we’ve always been close. We’ve always done everything together. I’ll get him to tell me what’s up in the morning, he needs to open up to me so I can get to the bottom of this.
Fuck! Has he been in trouble this whole time and I didn’t notice? Why hasn’t he told me?
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He cries and I jump at the noise.
At first I think he’s talking to me until his snores resume. He’s sleep talking. What’s he sorry for? And who is he talking to?
“I had no choice.” He slurs again.