“With any luck, six feet underground.”
Sadly, she was probably right.
“What about the mansion in the hills?” I asked.
Her smile wilted. “No more Disney films for me.”
I frowned, taking in her emaciated body. I hated that she had nothing left to live for. We’d both had dreams once. Maybe hers had died, but mine were still alive and kicking, and as long as there was a flicker of hope, I was hanging on.
“How are you, really?” I asked.
A shiver rocked my sister, making me wish I hadn’t given Grace my jacket to wash. “Not great.”
“Are you still using?”
“Just enough to get through the day, nothing more.”
I wasn’t sure I believed her but she wasn’t crawling through the streets with the other whacked-out zombies, so maybe she was telling the truth.
“What about you, Rory?” She glided her fingers over my face, with the intimate touch I’d always hated. I tipped my head away. “How are you holding up?”
“I mean…” I opened my arms to my reality.
Nikki nodded, looking past me before redirecting her focus. “You hate me, don’t you?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“But you don’t forgive me.”
I wondered which incident she was referring to because there were plenty to choose from. Had I never met her, had she never led me into darkness, maybe I wouldn’t be out here on the streets today. But then again, maybe I would. The truth of the matter was my life had started on the streets and would probably end out here too.
Nik drew in a breath, and I could see her emotions getting the best of her. “You wanna hear something stupid?” she asked.
“Always.”
“The only thing that keeps me going on my bad days is wanting to see you up on that big stage proving everyone wrong. Just you and your drums.” She smiled up at the stars. “Yeah. That’s all I want. To watch you shine. And then you can drop me in the ground.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. You’re still drumming, aren’t you?”
“I am. I got my buckets over there.” I pointed to the bushes. “I’m drawing big crowds every night.”
Nikki’s brows indented. “Where are you playing?”
“Around. Mostly tourist areas. Played near the arena tonight.”
“How long have you been doing that?” she asked, the alarm on her face prompting some of my own.
“Since I got out here. Why?”
She lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “What if they find you?”
“Why would they? No one knows I’m a drummer.”
“Rory, they know everything about you. At least they did when you were in foster care. You’re their biggest liability. A loose end they want to tie off. You being in foster care was the only thing protecting you.”
“How would you know?”
