FD:It doesn’t sound like he was ever violent or malicious, though?
CT:When he was angry, sure. He had a temper. We all do in our family. But his was the kind you didn’t see coming. Most of the time he’d play all quiet and shy, but piss him off and he’d turn on a fucking dime. One time I grabbed a can of Pringles out of his hand like,Hey, save some for the rest of us, and he fucking clawed the shit out of me.
FD:Clawed you?
CT:Like a cat. Right down my arm. Had to wrap it in a towel to stop it bleeding.
FD:That kind of thing happened a lot?
CT:When he got around that age. Eight or nine. Something changed in him. He started fighting back. Enough that I stopped fucking with him so much.
FD:So you gave him a bit of a rough time.
CT:I was a kid.
FD:Did he ever hurt anyone else?
CT:Tried to, yeah.
FD:Tell me about that.
CT:Then I gotta go or my wife’s gonna blow a gasket.
FD:Understood.
CT:So this was later. It must’ve been around 2016. I’d just started dating Jayla, and I was telling her about my family, how I never really felt like I had one. My mom died when I was a baby, then Abby and Emmett’s mom left when I was eleven and we didn’t really have uncles or cousins close by. Dad was pretty much all I had, and he was a pretty messed-up dude. I was on goodterms with Ab, but I regretted not being closer to Emmett—I felt like I missed a chance to have that close brother bond all my friends had. Jayla said, “Stop acting like it’s too late. You want a relationship with your brother, be proactive. Reach out. Invite him to hang out or something.” So I did. I took him out partying with me and my friends a few times. He’d just gotten out of this relationship and was all depressed—I figured it would help break him out of his shell.
FD:And one of these outings turned violent?
CT:One time it got pretty close. It’s St. Patrick’s Day, right, and we all go out to some club in the Gaslamp Quarter. We’re drinking, having a good time, I get a little faded, and at some point I hear from Jayla’s friends that Emmett’s crushing on some dude. He’s been watching him from the table all night, pounding Malibu and Diet Coke. [Snorts.] They’ve been telling him, “Go talk to this guy,” but he’s too scared. Emmett’s always been shy like that. Part of me feels like it’s my fault for giving him such a hard time about his weight when we were kids. So I decide I’m gonna help him out, be his wingman. I walk up to the guy and I say, “Hey, my brother’s into you.” Typical gay dude, he’s more interested in me. I say, “Nah, I’m not into that. But my brother is, you should ask him to dance.” I point Emmett out. He’s figured out what’s happening. I can see it on his face: He’spissed. The gay dude says, “Do I look like a tit man?” and walks off. That pisses me off, so I grab him—not grab but, like, touch—and the guy flips out. “Get your hands off me!” And I’m just like, “Whoa, chill out, dude.” You know, like, “Let’s not make this a fight because we both know how that’s gonna end.” My buddy Niño’s holding me back, telling me to simmer down. Then someone shoves me from behind. It’s Emmett. He’s gone from pissed to something else, like pure fucking animal rage. He’s crying, and his eyes are wild, like,I’m gonna rip your fucking throat out.
FD:He tried to hurt you?
CT:No, the other guy. If I wasn’t holding him back—
FD:Seems kind of out of character, don’t you think? Attacking a stranger?
CT:Not really. People like Emmett—they have no impulse control.
FD:People like Emmett?
CT:I’m just saying, once he gets something in his head, a switch just kind of flips and that’s it, game over. Like the can of Pringles. You mess with his food or say the wrong thing, he’ll fucking take a bite out of you.
CHAPTER 23
Lizette threw herself at Emmett the moment he walked through the apartment door, her hugging, screaming excitement wringing all thought of the missing woman from his mind.
“What?” he said as the dogs yapped and scratched at their legs. “What’s happening?”
“I got the money! He said yes!”
“What money? Who?”
She released him and flopped back over the arm of the couch with an ill-boding crack. “Fuck, I think I broke the couch.” She laughed.
“What’re you talking about?”
She pulled herself up. “You remember that venture capitalist guy I met with?”
