Page 16 of Reckless At Raleigh High
“Oh my god, Alex, Alex! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t fucking mean to, I swear!” A girl with long black hair and ruby red lips stands over me, her hand fluttering at her chest. Her pale Snow-White porcelain cheeks are spattered red. Pain spreads through my chest like the roots of a tree, burrowing deeper, taking hold, wrapping around my bones…
The girl with the black hair takes hold of my younger self, pulling him tight to her chest, wrapping an arm around him protectively.“It’s okay, Alex. It’s okay. You did what you had to do. You did what you had to do. You did what you had to do. You did what you had to do. You did what you had to do. You did what you had to do…
8
ALEX
“You cleaned the carbs out? Air filter, too? And it’s still not turning over?”
The trailer’s a fucking bomb site. I never spent a fortune on the furniture or decked it out real nice, but I kept it fucking clean and tidy. Since Zander moved in, it looks like he’s made a few changes. Plates and dishes clutter the counter tops in the kitchen, and mugs of half-drunk coffee are busy growing mold at random spots all over the place. Piles of clothes litter the floor, along with empty cartons of greasy Chinese food and crushed beer cans. In the hallway in front of the bedroom door, there’s a piece of toast sitting on the hardwood, covered in peanut butter and dust bunnies.A piece of fucking toast.He’s only lived here for fourteen days. This level of destruction is kind of impressive.
“Can you get it on a trailer? If you can bring it over here, I can take a look at it. I don’t have time to drive out there today, though.”
Zander’s voice is muffled and echoey, like he’s conducting his phone call inside a tin can. Lord, who talks to someone on the phone while they’re sitting on the shitter? It’s obvious to all parties concerned that you’re defecating. I wait in the living room for him, back up against the wall, tire iron in my hand. It feels good to have something heavy and solid to fuck around with while I bide my time. Saves me from repeatedly driving my fist into a wall instead, just to feel a different kind of pain.
“What are you doing, Alex? I don’t even like it here. Let’s go.”
Ben’s voice has joined my mother’s, it seems. My mind tortures me at frequent intervals throughout the day now, adding Ben’s imaginary thoughts and feelings to my inner monologue as it sees fit. Before too long, there’ll be so many dead people talking to me that my own voice will be fucking drowned out by all the chatter.
In the bathroom, Zander ends his call and flushes the toilet, confirming my suspicions. Dirty bastard. The door opens, making the same creaking groan it made when I lived here, and the son of a bitch trundles through to the kitchen, slamming about as he rifles around for god knows what. When he staggers into the living room in a vest and boxers, his hair all over the place and a fresh cup of coffee in his hand, I push away from the wall and step out in front of him.
His reaction is violent. Dressed head to heel in black, my face concealed behind a ski mask, I don’t look like I came here to try and sell him home insurance.
“Hell fuckingno!” Zander hurls the cup of coffee at me, launching its steaming hot contents at my face. I’m ready for him. Ducking neatly to one side, I avoid the projectile, which explodes against the wall above his television. A quarter of a second later I have him by his throat, pinned against a rickety bookcase, and I’m hefting the tire iron above my head.
“What the fuck!” Zander shoves me in the chest, but I ain’t going nowhere. Gouging my gloved fingers into his esophagus, I keep on digging until I feel something pop. Only then do I ease back. End of the day, I don’t want to destroy his vocal cords. I want the fucker to talk, and that isn’t going to happen if I render him mute for the rest of his miserable life.
“S’up, Hawk,” I snarl. “Thought I’d bring you over a housewarming gift.”
Zander hacks and splutters, wheezing as he attempts to scramble away from me. “Alex?What thefuck, man? I thought you were gonna kill me. Why the hell are you wearing a ski mask?”
I keep a hold on him, slamming him back against the bookcase again. “It’s cold out,” I say flatly. “Plus, I wanted to scare the living shit out of you.” I pull the ski mask off, throwing it into his face.
Zander’s expression is priceless. He’s a strong guy. We’re matched in a lot of ways. He knows how to fight. He taught me plenty in juvie. Right now, he can feel the rage rolling off of me, though, and it’s put him on the backfoot. He scowls, throwing a half-hearted jab into my ribs. When I lean forward, putting all my weight against his throat again, he quits any ideas of fighting back. “You’ve been a whiny little bitch ever since I showed up in Raleigh, Alex. What the fuck’s your problem now?” he grouses. “Let me guess. You got yourself a papercut and it’s somehow my fucking fault, right?”
Hah. So much attitude. He won’t be sniping at me in a motherfucking minute. He’ll be lucky if he still has all of his fucking teeth. “Ahh, y’know. Spent a lot of time at the cemetery yesterday,” I reply. “We buried my little brother. He was in a car accident. Bled inside his skull until he died. It was a whole thing—”
“Jesus, Alex. I know. I’m sorry! You should have fucking told me the other night. Just…letgo!”He wrenches himself free at last, lurching away, holding his hand against his neck. A pair of baleful, dark brown eyes glare at me from across the living room. “I know shit’s been tough, okay. I know you’ve had the worst run of all fucking time. But Christ, dude. No need to break into my place and murdermefor it.”
I hold a set of keys aloft, jangling them in the air. “Didn’t break in. I forgot to mention I kept a spare set inside one of the breezeblocks around back.” He catches them when I toss them to him. “As for murdering you, I don’t know yet. I’ll admit, I’ve been thinking about it. See, someone paid me a visit yesterday. Someone I suspect you’re well-acquainted with.”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, eyebrows arched, top lip curled in confusion. Slowly, he paces to the old couch I left here when I moved out and collapses down onto it. “Spit it out, man. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“My old man. Daddy Dearest. Giacomo Moretti. You might know him as Jack? He waltzed back into my life for a friendly little chat like he’d never even been gone. And d’you know what he was wearing when I set eyes on him for the first time in ten years? Care to hazard a guess?”
Zander’s face blanches white. He isn’t looking too well. Leaning forward, he grabs a can of beer from an open case on top of the coffee table and cracks it open. “Alex. I had no idea your old man was a Dreadnaught. Not until I came out to Raleigh. I’d never even heard his name until he showed up a couple of weeks ago at the club house. I’ve never even spoken to the guy.” He tips the beer back, chugging the liquid, and doesn’t stop until the can’s empty. Wincing, he discards it on the floor, rubbing at his throat. “You really fucked up my shit, dude. You could have broken my neck.”
Ignoring his pussy griping, I grab a beer from the case and sink down into the armchair opposite him, searching his face. “I don’t believe you. You’ve spoken to him plenty. And I’m betting you knew him before, too.” I pop the tab on the beer, holding the rim of the cold metal to my lips. “You know him before juvie, Zander?”
“Look, I just told you—”
“Zander.”
He curses under his breath. “Fine. Yeah. Fine. Jesus. I’ve spoken to Jack. I know him. But I didn’t know he was your old man until we’d already become friends at Denney. I pieced it together based on the stuff you said about him, okay. And it didn’t seem like a smart move to let on that we had ties when you obviously hated the guy so fucking much.”
I swill the beer around the inside of my mouth, hoping it’ll wash away the metallic taste of blood that’s been lingering on my tongue for days now. When I swallow, it’s still all I can taste, though. “You contacted him? Told him I was inside with you?”
“Sure. He already knew though, dude. It wasn’t news to him.”
