Page 13 of Of Mercury and Mist

He’d scared and stressed me enough that I’d started imagining things like the creepy teeth and box of toy bones. Next, I’d be visualizing he was in love with me.

“Ashley, the party’s in the living room,” Andy called to me as I snickered at myself. He started pounding on the door and forced me from my thoughts.

He opened it and glanced at me. “What are you doing in here? You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, turning back to the mirror. I finger-combed my hair back and grabbed an elastic from the counter, shoving my hair behind my head before trapping it in the elastic. Immediately, a rebellious curl sprung free and got in my eyes.

Andy scrunched his nose like he didn’t believe me. “You don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine, lay off.” I went to brush past him, but he swung an arm out. “Just stressed from work,” I told him.

He nodded. “I’m so glad I don’t work there.”

“It’d probably keep you out of jail.”

Andy barked a laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

“Whatever, inmate. Let me pass,” I said, giving him a smile. Between the drugs at Vincent’s house and the cars he and Mike worked with, I highly doubted the sustainability of his so-called chosen career. Somehow, he and his friends had never been caught—yet.

“Just gotta work for the right people.”

“I like my job,” I said. It was true, I did. Other than one particular member of management.

“I’m sure you do,” he conceded.

The rest of the evening was pleasant. My friends teased me about my love of horror movies, we ordered take-out from a sushi place, and we all had a few drinks.

Mike told us about the new guy he was seeing, a man named Michael, and we quickly dubbed the couple Mike and Mike. After a few more drinks, it turned to Mike and Ike—reminiscent of a popular candy, and I couldn’t stop laughing. My stresses were forgotten; even my guilt over Karissa’s job fell to the wayside.

After they left, it came back. Granted, it was probably the influence of alcohol, but my word vomit wouldn’t be stopped.

“Andy,” I said, unable to look him in the eye, “it's my fault Karissa got fired.” He was rinsing out beer bottles in the kitchen sink and I sat on a stool at the counter.

“How’s that?” He glanced at me and grabbed another empty while I remained silent. “Ashley?”

“I, uh, well... I forgot my stuff downstairs and went to get it, and I found her keycard?—”

“Ashley! What the fuck?”

I held my hands up as if to ward him off. “I know, I know. It was so stupid. I was going to put it back when I realized, I swear. I didn’t mean for her to get in trouble.”

Andy flung the cleaned-out bottle into a box designated for recycling. “This. This is why I didn’t want you working there. You could’ve come work with me—Itoldyou. Just like the old days, you could’ve been jacking cars and been safe. But no, no you wanted a clean job.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I already feel like shit about it. I had no idea it was hers; it was just sitting on the counter.”

“That’s fucked up, but how is it your fault? You don’t have to be such a bleeding heart.” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “But you know what’s more fucked up? The people you’re working for.”

“How do you figure that? They’re legit, nobody’s going to jail.” It was beyond me why I was defending the assholes. Probably something to do with Della, I imagined.

“You ever wonder what really happened to Brett? Huh?”

My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” Brett was Ashley’s old boyfriend and a dickhead who’d tried to hurt her once. He disappeared one day, and no one ever saw him again.

“His parents never got to bury him. Sure, there’s a stone with his name laser-etched on it. But there’s nothing in the ground.”

“What are you implying, Andy?”

He started walking away and I jogged after him. Deep inside, I knew exactly what he was saying, without using words. “Tell me,” I said, tugging his arm. This was why I was so concerned over Karissa. These kinds of things. The unspoken implications.

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