Suddenly, the smell of cigarette smoke and liquor, the haze of neon lights and ever-changing card numbers called to me like a siren.
So. This is how addictions began.
I’d never had addictive tendencies, but right now, I wanted the reprieve of nothing mattering except for getting to twenty-one.
I wanted Jude glaring at me from across the room.
I wanted the constant dance between the running count and the true count.
I wanted to go back in that closet with him . . .
I tucked my bag under my arm and pressed my fingers into my tear ducts as I tried to ward away the migraine that couldn’t be solved by anything other than this nightmare being over.
Losing my shit on Joel would only delay my ability to crawl into bed. Instead, I took long strides across his cesspool of a bedroom, yanked every cord out of the back of his desktop monitor, and hauled it off his desk.
“Hey!” he shouted.
Good thing he was too injured to chase me. I stuck the computer in my room, then went back for his laptop. Frankly, I should have taken his phone too, but I didn’t want to leave him without a way to call for help if something happened while I was gone.
“What am I supposed to do while you’re out partying?” Joel whined, as if he was a child and not a grown man.
“Partying?” I shouted as I cut back through the living room. “You think I’m outpartyinginstead of jumping into your mess to get you out of it?”
Ever since our parents died right before Joel and I turned twenty-one, the four minutes between his birth time and mine grew larger and larger.
We were already adults. We should’ve had our lives together.
Instead of being Joel’s twin—instead of being his partner in crime—I became responsible for him. And he was more than happy to let me bear it while he floated through life, easy breezy.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Joel muttered.
“Yes, you did,” I hissed.
His head hung low. I knew he was frustrated. Deep down, Joel was a good person—he truly was. But somehow, he had lost sight of that. I had been too busy with my own life and career to see that he was in over his head.
I should have known. Should have paid closer attention. Asked more questions. Pushed harder. Stepped in sooner.
I shouldn’t have taken the extra workload this semester.
And I shouldn’t have gone back to the Four Horsemen tonight.
Without a word, I slipped into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and got ready for bed.
There were a few of those regrets I had learned from. But returning to the Four Horsemen would be a lesson I’d have to learn twice.
9
JUDAH
Wednesday, May 21 | 4:57 p.m.
“Come on, buddy,” I said as I steered the stumbling man toward the door. “Time to call a ride.”
And then it’s time for me to bitch out the bartender for overserving the guy. It’s not even five yet.
Most days, I disliked my job. I was a glorified errand boy. The errands were just a little less than legal. On the days that I wasn’t striking the fear of God into grown men with the casual nature of someone running to the store for milk, I was a fucking babysitter for this place.
I nudged the guy out onto the sidewalk and wiped my hands on my pants. The neon glow of the Four Horsemen sign picked up the dried blood that was still speckled on my fingers.
