Page 44 of Catcher's Lock
“They fucking love you, Gem.”
“For all the good that’s done any of us.” He chews on his thumbnail and mutters, “They’re better off without me.”
“Or you’re a selfish prick who needs to grow up and stop blaming everyone else for your issues. You made your own choices. Going to ENC. Drowning your dissatisfaction in alcohol and drugs. Using me to—”
“To what?” He cocks his head, and some of his sass returns.
“I don’t know. To get back at Shilo and Hals for helping raise me? To punish me for not being a fuckup too?”
“To make myself feel like a real person?”
My chest squeezes involuntarily, but I refuse to let myself feel sorry for him.
“What does that even mean? How were you not a real person the whole time? You’ve always been larger than fucking life.”
“See? Practically a real boy.” He flashes a wry grin, followed by a sigh. “You know what a star drop is? Don’t answer that. I know you do. It’s the first big trick they teach you in aerials if you go into one of the vertical apparatuses. It looks scary and impressive to the audience, but you’re locked in, and it’s completely safe as long as you engage your core. Seven-year-olds can do it—and not just the Russian ones.
“I’m a star drop, Rocket. Something that appears flashy if you don’t know what you’re looking at, but ultimately unremarkable.”
“Ninety-nine percent of the world would never attempt a stardrop. You only think it’s easy because you grew up in the circus. Don’t try to tell me you’re not remarkable.” The urge to argue his self-worth is automatic, even after all this time.
“I’mordinary,” he insists. “My talents, my rebellions, even my family drama is a cliché. My mom knew it. I think that’s why she fought so hard against me going to Montreal. She knew I wouldn’t be able to hack it as soon as I wasn’t a big dick in a small pond.”
“You performed all over the world when you were achild. That’s a pretty big pond.”
“I may have exaggerated my experience to impress you,” he admits. “Mostly, they dressed me up and stuck me in the ensemble until we started Big Top. Look, I’m not avoiding my family because I’m angry, Rocket. I’m fuckingashamed. I don’t think I can face them without my self-righteous shield, even if it was bullshit all along.”
This vulnerability is a new weapon, and I’m inadequately armored for the fight.
“Why go crawling back at all, then? Why not get your shit together first? I saw how much money you made the other night. You never needed me to ‘rescue’ you. You said it yourself—I’m only here because you missed your adoring little fan club of one.”
He studies me for a long moment. “If you haven’t figured that one out yet, you’re not as smart as I thought.”
I take the goddamn 101 and buy him his stupid mac ’n’ cheese.
As predicted, the 580 is a nightmare, and worse, the Richmond Bridge is shut down because some asshole with a rifle decided to take pot shots at the cars from one of the Chevron refinery tanks, and we get rerouted into the city.
By the time we escape the traffic, it’s ten o’clock, and I’mcompletely fried. Gem is half asleep in the passenger seat. I’m pretty sure he popped another Vicodin while I was taking a piss before we left Homeroom.
I finally find a cheap motel with off-street parking on Seventh Street at the edge of the Leather District and elbow Gem awake.
I pay the night manager with some of the cash Gem gave me to supplement our gas fund, sliding the bills under the bulletproof glass.
“Do you think he thought we were a couple?” Gem asks as we carry our respective bags up the dingy stairwell.
“In a place like this? More likely he thought I was your john. Or your pimp.”
“Why am I the hustler? Is it because I’m prettier?”
“Have you seen your face today?” The bruises have faded to a sallow yellow green, but they’re still visible along his cheek and jaw.
His eyes sparkle. “But you’d pay to have sex with me. I think you’re flirting with me, Rocket.”
“This is not flirting.” Definitely not.Is it?
“Too bad. You should try it sometime. You might have fun. Maybe even get laid.”
This shit again?
