Page 93 of Blue

“Cruz? Fuck, dude, where the fuck did you come from?”

“Who the fuck did you think you were talking to?”

I chuckled, but it wasn’t a good time laugh. Just an incredulous sound of defeat. “My conscience.”

“How fucked up are you?” A hand reached into my vision like a fucking ghost.

“Not fucked up enough. I’ll get there.” I picked up the bottle of whiskey. Cruz ripped it from my hand and hurled it over the edge.

“What the fuck?” I tried to get to my feet but stumbled and crashed to my knees.

I rolled over, grabbed the can, and my lighter.

Cruz reached for my phone.

“Don’t touch her.” All I had left were her pictures in my phone.

“Thank me later.” His thumbs moved across the screen, then he dropped the phone in my lap, sat next to me, and stretched his legs out in front of him. “What’s going on with you? Why are you alone getting high and drunk?”

My phone pinged. I flipped it over and read both the text Cruz sent and her instant reply.

Blue: I’m an asshole.

Kiss: Come home. Talk to me.

Cruz had his phone out. I glanced at the screen.

“Don’t text my girl,” I said.

“Fuck off.” He continued to type a message.

“I’m fucking serious,” I slurred. Cruz could give her what I couldn’t. “She’s mine. You fuck all your friends.”

“I haven’t fucked you.” His lips twitched. “Yet.”

I tried to focus on his face. “You can’t fuck me. I haven’t fucked Kiss. Definitely can’t get it up for you.”

“I’m going to ignore everything you just said. Load the bowl.” He handed me the can. “We’re going to be up here awhile and unless you want Rogue and Bullet to join the party, I need to let them know I’ve found you. And you’re not fucking dead. By the way, you have some explaining to do about how Bullet and Rogue know about Sam.”

Cruz slipped his phone into his pocket.

I put the flame to the bud, took a hit, and passed it to Cruz. He drew in a long inhale. “Who’s Carl?” he asked as he held his breath.

I was smoked if I couldn’t remember saying the name that was never supposed to be spoken. I leaned back against the wall and pulled up another picture of Kiss.

“I’m the last person you’d want as your conscience, Blue, but I am your friend. Anything you tell me, I’ll take to the fucking grave.”

“Are you close to your family?” I asked.

He blew a stream of smoke into the night. “Nope. I’m a bad influence on my siblings. When I was sixteen, Davis, my mom’s husband, moved my shit to the shed in the backyard. I wasn’t allowed in the house. He’s a cop and gets off on the power of having a gun.”

Cruz laughed. “I’d piss on my mom’s garden. I hope he enjoyed his fucking salads.” He flipped a small stone across the roof. “They kicked me out of the house, by house, I mean the shed, a couple weeks before my high school graduation.”

“You lived in a shed for two years?”

“Better than the alternative of living with that douche. Once I was eighteen, his legal obligations were done. I think it pissed him off that I graduated with honors. He can call me a fuckup, but he can’t call mestupid. My little sisters, Mae and Lea, were six and eight. Mae cried when I left. I have a little brother, but he was two. I doubt he remembers me.” He turned to me. “How about you?”

“I have a sister.” But I hated thinking about her. I’d heard she’d married Jalen. He’d been my best friend. It wasn’t enough that she was named after Carl, now Cara carried his last name, too. Cara Douglas. “We don’t talk. We don’t have anything left to say to each other. My parents are glad she’s an only child. I’m disowned, and they’re dead to me.”

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