I had called my brother every day until he answered and begrudgingly spoke to me. It was still uncomfortable, but we were getting there.
“Not bad. Trying to finish up my end-of-the-year art project,” Landon answered vaguely. I could hear him banging around in the background and tried not to get frustrated by his lack of engagement.
“Oh yeah? What’s your project on?” I asked, pulling details out of my brother the way I could imagine pulling teeth. Slowly and painfully.
“You know. Art stuff,” Landon said. There was a muffled sound, and I could hear Landon speaking to someone on the other end.
“Why don’t you explain the art stuff then,” I said through gritted teeth. I loved my brother. But his teenage resentment, even if it was totally deserved, was frustrating.
“Just some three-dimensional piece I have to work on. Look, I’ve got to go. I’m hanging out with some friends. I’ll call you later,” Landon said distractedly.
“Sure, Lan. But I’d really like to see you this week. Maybe we could grab something to eat. I’ll even take you to that pizza place you get such a hard-on for,” I joked, forcing a laugh.
Landon snorted. “No, you’re the one that gets a chubby for the Hawaiian. Don’t put that on me.”
I chuckled. “Whatever, man,” I muttered.
“Okay, yeah, that sounds good. Maybe Friday. You’re paying, though,” Landon said, and while he still sounded distant, I knew that he, like me, was trying in the only way that he could.
“Friday it is. I’ll swing by and get you after school. We can go by the mall and get you that new Xbox controller I owe you.” I was clutching desperately, but I’d say and do just about anything to get my brother to stop looking at me like I was a failure.
“It’s about time,” Landon said. “I’ve been collecting interest, and I think you owe me a game or two as well.”
I laughed again, though this time it was strained. I had broken Landon’s game controller months ago in a freak Call of Duty accident. I pulled out my wallet and opened it. I could almost imagine flies buzzing around its vacant emptiness. I was broke, but I’d scrounge up the money somehow if it meant spending time with Landon.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, though sounding a lot less enthusiastic than I had before.
“Okay, Maxx, I’ll see you Friday after school. Later.”
I dropped my phone onto the table and stared down at my empty wallet. I’d get paid on Friday, but my coffee shop wages were barely covering my electric bill. I was a month behind in my rent, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my skeevy landlord would be handing me an eviction notice. I had whittled away the last of my savings, and I was living off fumes by this point.
As if on cue, there was a pounding from the front of my apartment. “Hey, we need to talk,” Marco said, pushing past me. I clenched my teeth.
“I thought we were done talking,” I said, closing the door.
Marco headed into the kitchen and began to open up the cupboards. “You need to go shopping, there ain’t crap to eat in here,” he said, slamming the doors closed. He grabbed a stale bag of chips from the counter and started stuffing his face.
“Why the fuck are you here, Marco? If you’re not going to give me grief, then I can’t think we have anything to say to each other,” I said shortly.
“Damn, when did I become your public enemy number one? You and me have always been tight. Now I’m starting to feel like a stalky ex-bitch trying to get you to call me back. That stuff don’t fly with me.” Marco spoke around a mouthful of chips. Dude had zero manners. It was disgusting.
“Chew with your goddamned mouth closed, you’re grossing me out.” I narrowed my eyes at him, wary and on guard.
“So, we had the club at the industrial complex on Delany last weekend,” he said suddenly, changing the subject completely.
“Okay. So?” I asked, not getting his point.
“What do you think of the location?”
I thought about the place he was talking about and shrugged. “It seems way too obvious for one. Too out in the open. Did the police show up?” I had to ask.
Marco upended the chip bag into his mouth and chewed noisily. “Yep, around midnight. A bunch of people got busted for possession, and Eric got caught fucking an underage chick in one of the back rooms. Gash is pissed.”
I wasn’t surprised in the least. I knew the location was a bad one. Too public.
“Who was the scout, and is he still breathing?” I chuckled, knowing all too well how Gash would respond to that sort of screwup.
“It was some newbie that Gash brought in. I think the guy was attached to one of his side ventures. Not a whole lot of brains obviously. As for the breathing part, I really don’t give enough of a shit to find out.” Marco crunched the bag in his hand and threw it toward the trash can, missing it completely. Of course he didn’t bother to pick it up.
