Chapter 14
Mal
It was the persistent buzzing of my cell phone that woke me up. The thing almost vibrated itself off the nightstand. I’d moved into Saylor’s treehouse before the wedding, so my stuff was strewn all over the place. Something I could tell bugged her—and I swear I was working on—but she hadn’t confronted me about just yet.
About the fourth time the buzzing started all over, Saylor rolled over and nudged my shoulder. “Make it stop.”
I groaned and blindly reached for my cell. Bringing it to my face, I grumbled, “What?”
“Fuck, man. I’ve been calling you all night,” Ryker’s deep voice muttered. “Nice to know you’re still alive. Shit.”
“Ry, it’s…” I blinked blearily at the clock display on the nightstand. “Four in the morning. What the fuck are you calling me for?”
“Gio’s dead.”
“What?” I sat up, totally alert now. “Are you fucking serious?”
“As a heart attack.” He coughed. “Sorry. That was…inappropriate. But yes, I’m serious. Gio’s girl called it in tonight. Looks like he overdosed.”
“I-I-I…” Tears clogged my throat, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. The phone fell to the bed as I covered my face with my hands.
In the distance I was vaguely aware of Saylor’s murmurs, followed by Ryker’s faint voice. It all sounded like it was coming from a long hallway, all echo-y and distorted.
“Hello?”
“Who is this?”
“Who is this?”
“Look, baby cakes, give the phone back to my boy. We gotta discuss some important shit.”
“I’m not baby cakes. I’m not sweet thing. I’m Mal’swife. So how about you tell me who you are and what the hell you just said to him to make him lose it?”
“Mal got married?”
“Yesterday. Sorry you weren’t invited, but it was an impromptu thing. Who is this again?”
“Ryker. Ryker O’Keefe.”
“Okay. And what’s going on?”
“Gio ODed tonight.”
“Shit.” There was some rustling, and then Saylor was tugging on my arm. “Mal, baby, I’m so sorry.” Her head nuzzled against my arm like a puppy, all wiggly warmth and impossible to resist.
I put my arm around her and pulled her into my lap.
“Girlie!” A small, tinny voice hollered. “Girl! Missus Holt, there’s some stuff we gotta talk about.”
I grabbed the phone and toggled the speaker function. After clearing my throat, my voice sounded froggy when I spoke. “What, Ryker?”
“Shit, man. I’m sorry for dropping it on you like that. But I thought it was better to just put it out there. Rip it off like a Band-Aid.”
“There’s no good way to share shit news, my friend. I get it. What else did you need to tell me?”
“We need you back here, Mal. G had you named as next of kin or beneficiary or whatever on everything, so we’re having a hell of a time getting through all the red tape without you. There’s only so much Danny can do.”
I remembered him joking about how he didn’t have anyone to leave things to—he’d grown up in foster care and pretty much spent all his time on our couch growing up—I just never thought he was serious.
