Page 65 of Getting It Twisted

“’Cause if it’s gonna be a problem, I’ve got some ways to sort it out. I hope it won’t come to that though. Would hate to ruin that pretty face.”

Nathan just snorts.

“Or how about you, Hastings?” Joshua asks, eyes on me. “You’d take a bullet for him, wouldn’t you?”

I would. I would have when we were teenagers, and I would now.

Nathan rises slowly. He exhales a billowing cloud of smoke and puts out the joint with his boot. Without a word, he glowers at Joshua as if trying to burn a hole in him with sheer will of mind.

“We’ll bring you the money,” I say. “Just tell us when and where.”

Joshua shrugs his thin shoulders. “I’m having a party at my place next Friday. Bring it then.”

“Four grand, was it?”

“Four and a half. For interest.”

“Fine,” I say, though I don’t know if it is. My own bank account echoes emptily, and about Nathan’s finances I frankly have no clue. He told me he’s got the money, but he might as well be as poor as me. Or he’s got a hundred grand hidden somewhere in the Arizona desert for all I know. “We’ll be there.”

“You better,” Joshua says and saunters off.

I spin to Nathan. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” he mutters. He kicks an empty beer can out of the way, walks to the next in line, and does it again.

“We’re not kids anymore, Nate, and these people aren’t joking around. I won’t let you ruin your life and your future.”

In the middle of a kick, he stops and looks up at me. “Future? What future? What about you—you gonna work as a janitor forever? I thought you were going to be an artist.”

“Yeah well, sometimes shit doesn’t work out. But what’s the alternative, huh? Deal dope with Joshua and end up in prison, or worse?”

“At least in prison, I wouldn’t have you nagging me to death.”

“Fuck!” I turn my back on him, clenching my fists so hard my arms shake. So this is how it’s gonna be? I might have tolerated his erratic bullshit back when we were younger, but not anymore. I’m tired of this. I’m tired ofhim.

“Daniel.” His voice is soft now, concerned, as if he’s realized he went too far. “Daniel,” he repeats and puts a hand on my trembling shoulder. “Daniel, I’m sorry.”

The buzzing in my ears drowns out everything except the rare set of words only I have the privilege to hear. The vulnerability offered to no one but me. Because I’ve never heard Nathan apologize to anyone else; it just doesn’t happen. And the tone of his voice? That careful, soft, worried one? A fucking unicorn in the context of all the other shit he says.

“We’ll go together, all right?” he says. “I’ll get it done.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. But could you . . .” His voice breaks, and he seems to force out the next sentence. “Could you come stay with me for a while? I can’t sleep when you’re not around, and I don’t . . . I don’t want to be alone out there.”

His voice is shaking, and he sounds so pitiful I have to turn to look at him. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, and his head hangs on his chest. He looks younger than I’ve ever seen him. Dejected. Worried. Regretful.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if he’s faking all this. Is it all just a trick to get my guard down? It wouldn’t be the first time he tried something similar.

But no . . . Manipulative tendencies aside, Nathan isn’t this good of an actor, and he wouldn’t ask such a thing of me if he didn’t mean it.

My moment of consideration is mostly for show. He has to sweat a bit and realize he can’t get away with things so easily. I can’t leave him hanging for very long though; can’t stand to have him look at me with those dejected puppy eyes.

“Okay, let’s make a deal: You pay Joshua what you owe, and I’ll come stay with you.”

He won’t move into my house anytime soon, so staying at Wayward Road might be the best option for now. At least there I can keep an eye on him. I want to know when he’s hurting, and I want to make him not hurt anymore. I want to cook him dinner every night. I want to wake up every morning to his sleepy, soft smile.

His jaw clenches in consideration for a moment before he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. So you’ll come home with me?” he asks, hope written all over his features.

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