I arched an eyebrow.I should just report him. Teach him a lesson about trespassing. Show him that I follow the rules and breaking them isn’t a good idea.All very good ideas.
None of which I actually did. Instead, despite my upset at David’s death, I offered him a wicked smile. “You know the price. Do you like sushi? I know this great little place.”
Two hours later, after letting the kids talk about their grief and encouraging them to go home and touch base with their parents or the school counselors, I met the intrepid reporter for dinner.
Chapter Thirteen
Ulysses
“You’re not kicking me out?” I yawned from the comfort of Finn’s embrace.
Sushi dinner—with very few answers—had led back to Finn’s place where, again, we’d fucked like gay rabbits.
This time, in our post-coital bliss, I had my head on his chest and I was curled around him. Awkward was the word I’d use. I should’ve been comforting him. He’d admitted he knew David.
“I’m too tired to kick you out.”
“Do you want me to go?”
His grip tightened on me. “Only if you want to.”
Progress.
“I’m comfortable.”
“Then stay.” He said the words on a yawn.
Better catch him before he falls asleep.“So did you know the kid who ODed?”
“David?Yeah. He played basketball in the rec league I run. I’ve known him for about a year. I didn’t know he was doing drugs, though. Don’t bother to ask about that.”
“Someone has to know something, though, don’t you think? I mean, unless that was his very first time—”
“It might’ve been. Hell, they haven’t formally said he died from an OD.” He sighed. “He likely did, though. And that’s just shit.”
“I agree. But wouldn’t it be better to know what’s going on so you can prevent it from happening again?”
He snorted. “You’re assuming I have any sway over these kids. News alert—I don’t. They’ll do whatever they want and I have little say in the matter.”
“But they look up to you, right? Admire you?”
“That’s possible. But David didn’t trust me enough to come to me with whatever he was facing.”
I winced—even though he couldn’t see. “Look, I'm not here tonight to write a story about the kid. His life is a tragedy—and yes, reporting on it might stop another kid ODing. But what I really want to know about is where he got the drugs.”
“Why?” Finn gripped me a little tighter.
I considered. “That’s the bigger story. But also, I like investigating crime. I report it, then hand everything over to the police.”
“That sounds simplistic. Shouldn’t the cops be investigating?”
“I’m sure they do. But they’ve got dozens of crimes. I’m focusing on just one.” I stroked his chiseled abs. “So tell me about David?”
He sighed. “Good kid. Good grades. Natural aptitude on the basketball court. He was planning to try out for the school team next year. He was on the short side. He was good, for certain. He’d hold back, though, with the other rec kids. He never showed off. More often, hewas willing to help them. Almost acted like my assistant coach. Which is why him doing drugs makes no sense.”
“Do drugs ever really make sense? I read the autobiography of this really successful business guy in Vancouver. Top of the world. His company was doing great and he was happy. He started dating a woman from Seattle who coaxed him into trying crack. Why? He was never able to articulate that. But his entire life changed on a dime. He spent the next few years down the addiction rabbit hole. He’d do whatever it took to chase that high again. It affected his work, it impacted his relationship with his children, and he blew through all the money he had.”
“Jesus. He survived to write about it?”
