Page 54 of IOU

He leans in and breathes on my face. “Happy?”

Have you freaking ever? This man.

“Now, if you’re done doing cavity searches, I’ll be in my room.”

He stands, righting me by the shoulders so I don’t topple over, and grabs the marker and a couple of cards. He does his thing with them and tosses them onto the sofa. “Nice playing with you, James. Next time, know your opponent better.”

Then he strides to his room and closes his door.

Are you freaking kidding me?

I want to yell that he still cheated, and this doesn’t count, and these cards are just wasted on me. I do not plan on fulfilling these favors. Let him do with me what he wishes. I sweep the cards off the couch and head to the kitchen for the broom. Someone has to clean the glass up from the patio. I rather enjoy sitting and watching the sun come up, and I prefer not to need stitches when I forget there’s glass on the floor. Better to clean it up now since clearly Maverick’s ass isn’t going to.

Frustrated, I drag the broom over the chunks of glass and get as much up as I can. I reach for the bin Maverick keeps out here just for his empty beer bottles and stop.

“Are you fucking serious?” I say to no one.

A fire extinguisher awaits on the small table next to the chair Maverick usually sits on. He has some nerve. I pick it up and notice it’s full. The label lists that it’s a Class A extinguisher, which will smother fires containing cloth, wood, rubber, paper, and plastics.

Such a thoughtful smartass my roomie is.

I’m shaking my head, containing a stupid grin when a rolled piece of paper falls out of the handle.

Unrolling it, I read it aloud. “Some people are meant to burn, and others are meant to rise from their ashes.”

What? What does that mean?

I look at the table again and spot it.

There, lying face up in an ashtray is the picture of Tucker and me that Maverick caught me looking at when we were moving me out of my apartment. At the time, he smashed the frame and took the picture, stuffing it into his pocket. I hadn’t thought about it since.

But he did.

He held onto it until today.

I re-read the note and pick up the picture, a lighter hiding underneath.

Some people are meant to burn, and others are meant to rise from their ashes.

And then I set that bitch on fire.

Rumor has it the neighbors heard screams coming from his room.

“Is he okay?”

A familiar tingling in my hands has me standing up to pace around my bedroom.

“Yeah, just a TIA,” my brother says, sounding amused and slightly distracted.

Good, I can handle brief stroke symptoms. “Are they concerned about another stroke?” I rub at the pain in my chest. “Are they going to keep him overnight at least?”

“I’m talking to Mav, old man. Mind your business and eat your Jell-O,” he says, talking to Pops instead of me.

“Maverick? Why is he up at two in the morning?”

I sigh into the phone. I already know what’s coming.

“I called him,” my brother returns, exasperated. “You’re the one making our young bodies lose sleep.”

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