“Kishen, my bootiful baby,” Cipher slurred, reaching out toward me.
“Brought you something,” Jeremiah said as he released Cipher into my arms. Bracing myself with both legs bent, I managed to keep us both upright, just barely.
“Sweetnesh,” Cipher whisper-shouted in my good ear. His breath reeked of liquor, and how was that even possible when alcohol was banned?
“Hand him over,” Macon said, stepping forward to transfer Cipher’s weight onto his own broad shoulders. “Get the door, will ya, Kitten? I’ll get him upstairs to your room.”
“Thank you.” I swung open the door, and Macon half-dragged a stumbling, protesting Cipher inside.
“Poor guy can’t hold his liquor,” Jeremiah said, seeming a lot more sober than he had a moment ago. “He just has to sleep it off. He’ll be right as rain in the morning.”
“Were you the one who got him drunk?” I asked hotly.
“I mean, I didn’t put a gun to his head or anything.”
I could blame Jeremiah all I wanted, but I knew better than anyone that you couldn’t force Cipher to do anything. “Well, thanks for bringing him home,” I said with some reluctance, still holding onto the doorknob because I didn’t wish for him to stick around.
“Larry would skin me alive if I let anything happen to his special chosen one. Not you though.” He reached out and brushed my cheek with his thumb. Flinching, I pulled away, as stunned by his brazenness as I was by his words.
“What do you mean, not me?” I asked.
He smiled, all teeth. There was absolutely nothing behind his eyes, nothing good anyway. “You’re not so special, Joshua. Not to Brother Larry, at least. You’re just a shiny toy distracting his prized pupil from his very important lessons. But you could be real special to someone like me. Useful too.”
What was he even talking about? Was he only saying these things because he was drunk? That seemed like wishful thinking.
“You need to leave,” I said firmly. “Right now.”
Jeremiah shrugged. “Have it your way, but I’ll be seeing you again real soon.”
“No, you won’t,” I said, sure of that at least. I stepped backward into the house, never taking my eyes off of him, and slammed the door in his face. How I wished I could lock the door too. Drawing in a ragged breath, I heard Jeremiah laughing on the other side, cackling like a maniac. It sounded… wrong. Everything about the man was wrong.
He’ll be gone in the morning,I reminded myself, and as my mother would say when she was feeling less than charitable,good riddance.
* * *
“I drank too much,”Cipher said as I attempted to remove his weapons without stabbing him or myself in the process.
“Yes, you did,” I agreed with some sadness. Was this another of his attempts to avoid me? Get so wasted that he didn’t have to spend time with me or have a sensible conversation?
“I was supposed to come home right after dinner.” He looked to me for confirmation. I nodded and he touched my chin. I leaned into the touch–I couldn’t help it. I’d take whatever scraps of affection he gave me. “Don’t look so sad, sweetness. Do you want to know the truth?”
“Yes, if you want to tell me.”
“The truth is, I’m a shitty boyfriend.”
I sighed and shook my head. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“Itistrue, Kitten. And besides, how would you know any different?”
I inhaled a sharp breath. I might be naive in some things, but I knew my own heart. “I guess I wouldn’t,” I said because I didn’t want to fight with him while he was drunk and besides, there was no telling what he might remember tomorrow.
“I keep fucking this up,” he said, still focusing on himself.
“We can talk about it in the morning.” I lifted both his legs onto the bed. “Do you want me to remove your leg?”
“Yes, it hurts.”
I took off his pants and went about removing his prosthesis for him, using some lotion to rub out his thigh muscles while I was at it. I hated the thought of him in pain, emotional or otherwise. He tried to do too much, always pushing himself to his physical limits, ignoring his own needs for food, rest, and comfort, and then abusing drugs to shut down his body completely.
