Page 33 of Wicked Ends
I switched off the engine and stood. I’d know that voice anywhere.
I held my tongue. There was a strange, muffled sound, like someone was speaking with their head under the covers, which, knowing my father, he probably was. I walked up the street, needing the distraction of physical activity while talking to the worst person I knew.
“Marcus, can you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
My father blew out a breath. “Good. Are you coming to visit this weekend? My lawyer wants to see you.”
“I can’t. I’m busy.”
“Fuck busy. This is important. Your brother was going to talk to you about it.”
“He did, and I’m still busy. What do you want anyway? Cole will come.” I kept walking. The muffled sound made sense now. He was calling from a smuggled burner phone instead of an official prison phone.
“I don’t need Cole. I need you to come. It has to be you.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“It just does. Stop questioning me, boy! I’m your goddamn father, and if I say come, you come. Be fucking useful for once,” my dad spat down the phone, quickly shedding the kind and cajoling tone he’d been using.
I stopped and stared at the shop beside me. There was a catcher’s mitt in the window. On the promo for the mitt, a dad was throwing the ball for his son. “Spend time getting to know the man he’ll become.” The slogan and picture style looked ripped from a 1950s magazine. Maybe it was. One thing was for sure, whether my dad had lived then, or now, he’d still be a shitty parent.
“I played a big game tonight. Saved the winning goal right on the buzzer,” I murmured into my cell.
Silence greeted that comment before my father sighed. “And?”
“I thought you might want to know what I’m doing in my life,” I said flatly.
“Big whoop, I’m in fucking jail, Marcus. Stop being selfish and help me. I’ll see you Saturday,” he said, his tone certain, and hung up.
I clutched my cell hard in my hand, letting the edges dig into my palm. It still stung from catching the glass the other night, but the pain was good; it cleared my head.
I crossed the street, heading toward the only lit-up building on the block. The Chickadee Diner. I’d been coming to the Chickadee since I was a boy. The food was cheap and plentiful, and it was open all kinds of hours. Going back to the Hellions’ dorm right now didn’t hold any appeal, and neither did The Clutch.
I glanced through the window as I walked past and was stopped in my tracks by the sight of Ari, sitting in a booth. She was laughing at something the woman across from her had said. The dark turmoil and disappointment brewing in my gut dissipated. That was what I needed. The perfect distraction. If I was a manwith any kind of faith, I’d think that she’d been put there at this moment, exactly when I needed her, for a reason. But I knew better than that. There was no fate, other than the shitty decisions people made. Nothing was ever given, and if it was, it wasn’t to a guy like me. I only had what I’d fought for in this life, or taken. As I stepped inside the diner, I found myself wondering which Ari would be.
Arianna
I staredat the diner’s menu, but the words were swimming. I was drunk. Good and proper. I was going to feel like hell tomorrow, but right now, I didn’t care.
“Man, I need to get you some water and go pee.” Kenna slid along the vinyl booth.
She’d come by my classroom after work and cajoled me to go out for drinks to celebrate my first few days on the job. I’d easily agreed, desperately wanting to avoid going back to the motel and worrying about Marcus and my future in Hade Harbor.
I nodded and waved a hand at the huge duffel bag on the seat beside me.
“Okay. I’ll read this department material while you’re gone.” I swayed toward the pile of folders I’d been carting around all night.
Kenna sat back down. “Um, no. Don’t take any schoolwork out right now. You’re way too wasted for that. How did you even get so drunk? We shared the same bottle of wine at dinner.”
I laughed. “I don’t usually drink… it’s not safe.”
“Not safe?” Kenna repeated.
“You don’t know who is watching… waiting.” Missing keys and doors that didn’t lock were never far away.
Kenna’s face creased, and regret broke through my muddled mind. I didn’t want to make her sad.
