Page 124 of Blue

I parked along the garage. Kiss bounded out of the house, handed me the keys, and walked around to the passenger side of Jazzy’s sedan while I sat behind the wheel.

“How was your meeting?” I asked, pulling out of the drive.

“It was horrible. I didn’t see her with a needle, but I’m pretty sure Georgia was shooting up in the bathroom. Even if she wasn’t shooting, she was doingsomething because she was high.” Kiss ran her hands down her thighs. “It’s so hard, Blue. I’ve been where she is so many times. I’d make excuses on why I needed to use. I still have those same excuses.” She turned to me. “I don’t think I’d make a good sponsor. I couldn’t be in the same room with her.”

I reached for her hand. “I don’t want you in the same room with her. Don’t take this wrong, but just because someone can run for a mile doesn’t mean they’re ready to run a marathon. You’re building your sobriety muscles. You’re not supposed to be anyone’s sponsor, not yet.”

Kiss gave me directions to her uncle’s house. Jazzy’s car was a piece of shit. The brakes were sticky, the accelerator was sluggish, and the speakers were blown. I’d get it into the shop for a tune-up before I’d let her drive it again.

From the passenger seat, she nervously sang along to the snap and crackle of the stereo. Periodically, she’d pop her thumb into her mouth and chew her nail.

“Kiss, you can only do you. Just be honest with him.”

She turned toward me, and her lips didn’t quite pull into a smile, but she tried. John Martin wasn’t a Heller and, according to Kiss, didn’t have a lot of love for bikers.

I wasn’t sure bringing me along was going to improve the situation, but she wanted me there. He lived in a middle-class neighborhood with kids on bicycles and minivans in driveways. I parked alongside the curb in front of a split-level house built in the eighties and killed the engine.

An old Ford pickup truck sat in the driveway. Flowerbeds had been filled in with rocks, but there were a few old leafy trees in the yard.

“I don’t know what to say to him.” She stared out the passenger window.

“Keep it simple. Most people just want to know why. And they want the truth.”

I opened the driver’s side door. I’d open the door for her, but she was already out and standing on the sidewalk. I took her hand in mine and led her to the porch. She visibly trembled as she pushed the doorbell.

“Breathe,” I whispered. “The worst he can do is ask us to leave. Anything else is a win.”

Thirty seconds had to feel like days. There wasn’t a screen. When the door opened, Kiss faced her uncle. He looked exactly like I expected. Lumberjack beard, reading glasses perched on his nose, dirty jeans from a day of hard work, and a flannel with a tear on the sleeve. A guy I could imagine having a beer with.

“Hi,” she said.

The smile faded, and his mouth hardened. “I don’t have any money,” he snapped.

“I didn’t come to ask for money.” She nervously wrung her hands.

“What do you want?”

“I…I…”

“Can we come in?” I asked.

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked toward the street. “Hellers and junkie whores aren’t welcome in my house.”

Kiss blinked back tears. I took a calming breath. He was angry. If he blamed Hellers for her addictions, he was partially right. That didn’t change the truth thatKiss had fucked him over one too many times, but I wasn’t going to let him tear her down.

“I can respect that,” I said, shrugged out of my cut, and draped it over my arm. “Now, can you invite your niece into your house?”

We had a ten second stare down, and he blinked first, then stepped to the side. “Five minutes.”

I put my hand on Kiss’s back and escorted her into the house.

John shut the door, and we followed him up the short set of stairs to the living room. He plopped down in a recliner. “What do you want?”

Kiss sat on the couch. I stood by the stairs, not wanting to take this from her, the chance to try to make amends with him.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, Uncle John.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I know I can’t fix what I did.”

John was quiet for a moment, staring at Kiss. “You promised me you’d get clean.”

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