Keep Your Friends Close: A Gritty YA Crime Thriller, page 5
Hank grabbed Wes by the collar and slammed him against the side of the refrigerator. “Where did you get the money?” he shouted for the hundredth time. Wes’s mouth hung open, blood pooling from his busted lips. I stood back, chewing a hole inside my mouth, unable to watch any longer. For the past fifteen minutes, Hank had been trying to get an answer out of Wes. He placed a hand over Wes’s mouth and chin, gripping his face tightly. “Where?”
Wes blinked those laughing eyes again. “You said… one more word, and you’d rip out my tongue…”
Huffing in rage, Hank head-butted him. Wes’s knees buckled, and he slid down the fridge, but Hank tugged him up to knock his forehead against his face once more. Wes moaned before hitting the floor.
As Hank moved in for more, I jumped in between them. “Hank, stop it. I gave him the money, okay? It was a gift from Brooklyn.” I gripped him tight by the shoulders and tugged him away.
He shrugged me off. “You must take me for a fool, don’t you? Goddamn candy jar. Kira thought she could fool me, too, and look where it got her. You assholes will only end up worthless, just like your mother.” He came to me.
I took a few shaky steps backward. “It’s the tru—” Hank’s hand cut my words off, as he clamped around my throat. He squeezed so tightly that my eyes practically bulged from my sockets. The floor dropped from beneath me. He had me raised high like a villain in a superhero movie. With my air supply shortened, my swimming abilities shifted into gear. A breathing exercise came to mind, and I counted.
One-one thousand… Two-one thousand…
“I was Haywood’s finest. Nothing gets past me.” A left hook crashed into my liver.
Pain pulsed through my middle, my stomach retching. I pawed my hands at his thick wrist. The combo of being choked and having to vomit set off bombs inside me.
Hank heaved me higher with a roar before slamming me down on the kitchen table, shattering it to pieces. Air whooshed into my lungs, and I embraced it in large gulps, greedy for the sweet oxygen. But it didn’t last. Hank straddled me and wrapped both hands around my neck this time.
“Han—”
“You want to be a liar like your mother?” Hank shrieked, sweat pouring down the sides of his face. He banged my head over and over against the tabletop pieces. Stars danced before my eyes.
“Hey, asshole?” Wes called. As Hank glanced over his shoulder, Wes smashed him across the head with a wooden leg. Hank fell over, dropping heavily on his side. “Come on!” Wes tugged my ankle. He broke away and headed for the basement.
I scrambled on all fours after him.
“I’m gonna kill you,” Hank promised. He staggered through the doorway. Wes flipped him his middle finger. And as Hank charged forward, Wes slammed the door in his face. I threw my weight against the wood.
“Hurry,” I told Wes, watching him fumble with the lock. Finally, it clicked.
Hank pounded heavily on the other side. “I swear I’m gonna kill you, Wesley!”
“For sure, Hank the Tank,” Wes called back.
“Don’t taunt him like that,” I whispered, my throat sore and raw.
Wes kicked the door. “Fuck him.” He hurried downstairs and collapsed on the busted loveseat. Eventually, Hank’s thuds faded. Wes uttered a muffled groan.
“What hurts?” I asked, standing over him.
He rolled over onto his back, drenched in sweat and blood. “Every fucking thing.” He squinched his swollen face. The blood was already beginning to dry on his wounds. His nose was so fleshy it was as if it didn’t have a bone anymore.
“I’ll be back,” I said. I went to the wash sink and soaked a T-shirt in cold water. Wes needed some ice, but there was no way I was going back to the kitchen.
“This won’t do much but…” I carefully dabbed at his face, wiping away most of the blood and perspiration. He winced in pain, eyes squeezing shut. A water drop rolled into his hair. His shallow breathing softened as he drifted to sleep. I sat on an old workout bench, watching Wes’s chest rise and fall. Eventually, I dozed off, only to be awakened by several drops of water splatting across my face.
My eyes squinted at the pipe sweating overhead. I groggily pulled myself up, feeling like an eighteen-wheeler had run over me twice. Immediately, images of last night flashed by. Hank’s sweaty face. Owens’s mustache. Diego’s pointing finger. Brooklyn.
Brooklyn! I jumped to my feet, gripping my empty pockets. Where the hell did I leave my phone? I racked my brain to remember and gasped heavily. In Hank’s pocket. I slowly turned to the crooked staircase.
Hank’s routine was to beat the shit out of us and then fall into a drunken sleep. If I was correct, and I’m sure I was, Hank was asleep somewhere. All I had to do was go find those khaki shorts.
I crept up the stairs, holding my breath. I unlocked the door and peeked out. The light was off, but shards of dawn seeped through the window. The hum of the refrigerator was the only noise. I tiptoed closer to the kitchen, keeping my back along the wall. As I reached the doorway, Hank’s snores carried to my ears.
I frowned. Was he asleep in the kitchen? Quickly, I snatched up one of the broken table legs. He’d threatened to kill Wes. Who was to say he wouldn’t wake up, mistake me for Wes, and blow my head off?
Gripping the makeshift club tighter, I peered inside the kitchen. There Hank lay, sprawled on his back with his belly exposed. I pulled back, breath catching in my throat. At least I was right. He’d fallen asleep drunk. Beer bottles and cans littered the floor. I could grab our phones and Wes’s money, and Hank would wake with no recollection of it.
I raised the club again. Here goes nothing. Before I could change my mind, I tipped over broken glass, crushed cans, and splintered wood pieces, silently stalking my way to Hank’s body. If he so much as stirred, I was prepared to knock him out cold. His snoring fell to an annoying rhythm. Deep then high. Deep then high. Deep then…
He froze. So did I. His breathing halted, then crept back to the rhythm. I found the items I wanted spilling from his shorts as I got closer. I released a silent whoosh in relief. With a quick dash, I had everything in my hand. I slowly backed away, shoving them into my pocket. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Hank.
He lay there sleeping so peacefully, without a care in the world. He wasn’t in fear for his life the way Wes and I were. He was so confident that nobody would ever harm big and tough Hank. Yet there he lay, in a deep sleep, vulnerable.
I swallowed, tentatively touching my sore neck. My throat hurt like hell. Had Wes not knocked Hank off of me, he could have killed me. Was that his intention? My vision blurred through watery eyes. My heart thudded so rapidly it could’ve split my chest in two. There was my opportunity to set us free. I set the club down and took a sharp-edged broken beer bottle.
“You can’t hurt us anymore,” I said out loud. Hank stirred, his eyes faintly blinking open at me. But I didn’t care. I smiled.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hank asked, slowly pulling himself to a seated position. I kicked him back down, my sneaker striking him dead in the center of his forehead. He slammed into the linoleum heavily. “You son of a—”
I jammed the broken bottle into his belly. His warm blood sprayed me across the face. With a hoarse cry, I stabbed him over and over.
6
Brooklyn
Now
My cell buzzed, and my eyelids flew wide open early the following day.
Eddie. I tossed the covers off and grabbed the phone from the nightstand. The charger pulled from the wall and clattered across the floor.
I froze, slowly turning to the door. The last thing I needed was Dad patrolling the house for a burglar. It’d already been a hassle quieting my little sister’s dog when I snuck back in. JoJo was a small brown and white Cavalier Spaniel, and for whatever reason, he always growled and barked at me like I was a total stranger. Or maybe Dad trained him to do that to catch me red-handed. But I shut him up quickly with a cookie.
When sure the coast was clear, I checked my phone.
Can we meet for coffee?
It wasn’t Eddie, but Mack.
Mack? Why was she sending me a DM? And at four in the morning?
I pushed my hair from my face. Eddie was right. Riley must’ve told her something. I bit down on my lip and pictured Mack. We hadn’t hung out since the sixth grade when we’d gone to an all-girls school—a school they kicked her out of. The rumor was the Donahues couldn’t afford the tuition, but the girls closest to Mack knew otherwise. They said a teacher had caught her being inappropriate (as they’d put it) with another student. Shortly after, she was gone.
I didn’t see Mack again until our junior year, and even then, she and I didn’t really talk. So, why now? She suspected something, obviously. I knew she kept looking at me weirdly at the search party. I stared at the screen until the words were all blurred together. The metallic taste of blood stung my tongue, jolting me out of my trance.
Should I reply? Nah. Mack was the least of my worries. Where the hell was Eddie? Why hadn’t he replied yet? If he were still being held in a cell by the time Dad woke, he’d forbid me from ever seeing him again. Dad was an attorney. Eddie wouldn’t need a lawyer, would he?
I had no idea what was going on anymore. I dropped to my pillow and pulled the covers to my chin. I clutched the phone against my chest, hoping Eddie would reach out to me. But he didn’t.
That afternoon, my fingers raced each other across the piano in the sitting room. The piece I’d chosen for my recital was Ravel’s Jeux d’eau. It was French for fountains or playing water. The noise of water and its sprays and cascades and brooks inspired the music. I’d picked that song as a dedication to Eddie’s swimming.
While practicing, I envisioned his torso sluicing through crystal waters, the ripples casting waves across his muscular back and legs. His feet fluttered in time to the quick, quieter notes.
I shut my eyes to grasp the vision tighter.
In my mind, Eddie kicked into a long-distance swim as if he, too, were in a race. He swam faster, frantically, and I realized he wasn’t heading for a finish line. He was swimming away from something.
The passage intensified as the notes quickened; the harmonies flowing from the piano with energy and passion. My fingertips glided from one pitch to another at the glissando, my brain curious about where this vision was going.
A wispy red cloud chased after Eddie’s flickering feet.
I pressed the piano keys, the notes coming nonstop, tinkling like thick raindrops.
Faster, Edward, my mind screamed. But it was my fingers who obeyed, for the redness swallowed Eddie whole. The notes ended in a deep, dramatic tone.
I bowed my head, catching my breath, the image gnawing in my stomach. Okay, that was weird. I imagined stories while playing for as long as I could remember, but it’d never gone dark before.
Loud, steady claps made me spin around. “Dad…” I rose to greet him. Dad hailed from Russian descent and towered above me at six foot six. I went up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His piercing, icy eyes took me in.
“That piece lost you, didn’t it?”
I nodded, cheeks coloring. I didn’t know how much he’d seen. “The notes are tough and require lots of concentration.” Which I’d been lacking.
“Well, I’m certain you have plenty of that, right? By not being distracted with things like wild parties?”
I wanted to speak, but knew I should first consider my words. If you ever lied to Dad, he’d hold it against you for the rest of your life.
I blinked. “Oh, you mean last night?”
He stalked around the emerald chaise sofa and ran his hands along its golden trim. “I just hung up with Riccardo Rossi.”
Riccardo? That was Mario’s father. Dad had been Rossi’s attorney for years.
“He returned from his trip early to find his mansion littered with drunken teens. It appears one of them stole the jeweled urn with Grandpa Rossi’s remains still in it.”
Gross. I struggled to hold a straight face. “That’s horrible. That must’ve happened after I left.”
His forehead creased. “So, you were there?”
“Well, yes. I accompanied April. After the search, she was so upset that I thought a party would cheer her up. But it was a bit of a drag, so we left—early.”
“Were the Hawkins boys there? I mean, stealing an urn with the remains still inside shows such desperation, and I know how badly they could use the money.”
My mouth dropped open. “Dad!”
“They encrusted that urn with jewels and rubies worth thousands.”
“Eddie wouldn’t steal from his own friends.”
“But he has stolen before?”
I sighed, heading back to the piano. “Now you’re just twisting my words. I’ll ask around about the urn. But it was nobody from my group, I know that much.” My voice wavered on the last part, for I was unsure of Diego and Wes.
“There you are.” Mom entered. “Look who I found out front.”
April waved at me. Despite April being Black, she seemed more like Mom’s daughter with their matching happy-go-lucky vibes, something that didn’t come as naturally to me. Dad had once again given me the blues for the day.
“April says you two are making the party plans today,” Mom said.
“We are?” I blinked at them in confusion. Our birthdays were just a day apart. We’d thought it was the coolest thing ever when we started dating twins. But what was April talking about? After Riley died, we’d agreed that we wouldn’t have another party.
Yet, we’d partied at Mario’s last night, my guilty conscious reminded me.
April pursed her purple lips. “Of course. Remember, we’re going to browse around to get some ideas?”
“Oh—” I nodded. Maybe she had news about Eddie. “Right.” I played along.
Dad scoffed. “As if another party is what you kids need. Anyway, Brooklyn should get back to her rehearsal. We’ve already interrupted and taken too much of her time.”
“Dana.” Mom frowned. “It’s their birthday. Let them plan it how they wish.” She turned to me. “You go on, Brook. The piano will still be here when you get back.” She winked.
I cut my eye at Dad. Even with his arms folded, he shrugged in agreement. I smiled, hurrying to grab my purse and follow April outside. It wasn’t until we were in my silver BMW that I finally spoke.
“Did Eddie send you? Did he lose his phone or something?”
Her face twisted with every word. “What? I don’t know. They probably just slept in after that wild fight. I’m sneaking you off to get matching manicures and pedicures.”
“Are you serious?”
“Can we? Please? Please?” She danced in her seat.
If she didn’t look like such a kid, I would’ve hit her. I glanced at my chewed fingernails. They should look nice for my recital, though.
“Oh, alright.” I started up the car.
“Mm…” April took a slurp of berry smoothie half an hour later.
We’d gone to the mall and gotten drinks while at the nail salon. The manicurists were doing our toes, our French-tipped nails, dry and perfect.
“Mario either broke that urn and got rid of it or sold it himself for quick cash,” April said. “My money is on the latter. Do you know how obsessed he is with money? I even heard he’s selling answer sheets for the SATs.”
I gasped. “How did Mario get them?”
“He’s a hacker, I guess.” She shrugged. “But I know it wasn’t Wes who took that disgusting thing. Besides, if either of them had, wouldn’t the cops have confiscated it after arresting them?”
Right. I mentally slapped myself. I grabbed my phone. I still hadn’t heard from Eddie. I called Diego to see what he knew. Apparently, he hadn’t gotten arrested. He knew no more than I did. I suggested we go over to their house, but he wasn’t too hot for the idea. Said Hank didn’t allow people into his home.
Come to think of it, I’d never been to Eddie’s place the entire two years we’d been dating. Sure, I’d dropped him off a few times, but I hadn’t seen the inside.
“Hey, have you ever been inside the boys’ house?” I asked abruptly.
April used her straw to stir her smoothie. “No. Not really. I mean, Wes and I were fucking around in the hall once. His dad’s truck wasn’t out front, so we went at it, too impatient to make it to the room.” She giggled. “But his dad was actually out back, and Wes freaked when he came inside. He didn’t catch us doing it or anything. I just don’t think he allows Wes to have company over.”
“Weird,” I muttered. “Or maybe he grounded Wes.”
She shrugged. “Probably. Wes is so badass. And so hung,” she whispered, eyes gleaming at the thought.
I almost spritzed the manicurist with my banana smoothie. “April.”
“What?” She grinned. “It’s true. Well, isn’t Eddie? They’re identical twins. I’m sure that counts for identical dicks, too.”
I glanced away shyly. “Maybe.”
She touched my shoulder. “You haven’t done it yet, have you?” She gasped at my silence. “OMG, girl, what are you waiting for?”
“We’re not like everybody else, A. We want it to be special.” But I honestly didn’t know what we were waiting for. Eddie and I always fooled around, but he backed down whenever we got too close. I shrugged. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. It’s not always about sex. Eddie loves me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, everyone knows how much Eddie does.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I stared at her. She glared back, arching her brow. She obviously meant the Riley situation. I broke my gaze. “Come on—don’t turn it into that.”
“Anyway… There’s another one who was a beast in bed.”
“Who?” I frowned.
