Page 63 of Best Man on Campus

“Nah. He couldn’t stitch an apron.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” I say.

“It’s like when you’re a kid—” Stone starts to explain and I throw up my hands.

“Rhetorical question.”

Majik throws two foil-wrapped sandwiches and a big bag of cookies into an insulated bag and shoves it at Kace.

“Here you go. Now get out of my kitchen.”

“Where you guys going?” Stone says as we head out the door. Before I can answer, Majik speaks up.

“It’s none of your goddamn business, boy. Get over here so I can put a cold steak on that eye before it closes completely.”

* * *

The drive to Clarksville takes two and a half hours because there’s no traffic and the urgency in my veins won’t let me stay within the speed limit. Kace doesn’t give a shit. He drives like a maniac in spite of his dad being a former cop. Maybe it’s his way of rebelling. We get to town—the post office and general store with a diner—and find Sarah’s address at 3458 Cedar Stream Road. Kace’s dad didn’t exaggerate. It’s a shack, as advertised, with an outhouse out back.

“Fuck,” Kace says as we pull to the side of the road, just past the dirt yard. “There’s no car or truck. She might not be home.”

“Only one way to find out,” I say. But I know she’s here. I don’t know why or how I know, but I’m confident. I open the Wrangler’s door and jump out.

Ben follows me and I walk through the dirt to the front door and knock, peering inside the grimy window, not seeing anything. We wait. I know she’s there and I strain to listen. Kace starts to say something and I shush him. There’s a movement, the sound of floor boards squeaking inside, I’m sure of it. I give Kace a nod. When someone turns the door handle and pulls the door open, I brace myself, putting on a friendly smile.

A woman, Sarah Galiskar, I presume, steps onto the threshold, all skin and bones and gaunt face looking like she’s in her forties or older though I know she’s probably closer to thirty, if that. Her jeans are baggy and her pink T-shirt floats on her.

“What do you want? Ricky isn’t here.” She gives me a less than friendly look.

“I’m here to see you, Sarah. I’m a friend of Jazzy Romano’s”

She sucks in a breath and her face goes ashen. After a beat, she steps back inside, pushing the door closed, but I stop her.

“It’s okay, we don’t want any trouble. I only wanted to talk to you.” I’m pleading and desperate and maybe she recognizes that because she opens the door back up again and squints at me, long and hard, distrust still ebbing against curiosity in her stare.

“Jazzy is struggling, Sarah. She needs the truth about… Killian O’Leary.”

I see the flinch in her entire body as if I tagged her with a Taser. But she doesn’t shut the door.

“Poor Jazzy,” she says. She backs inside the house or shack or whatever it is and motions me inside. I wave for Kace to come inside too. I’m glad to have someone else with me or I wouldn’t feel like the scene was real. It feels a hell of a lot like a dream—or a nightmare—walking into the small dingy shack that smells faintly of a dying animal in spite of the lit candle at the center of a beat-up table. She sinks into a comfortable-looking worn-out lounge chair as if she just walked a hundred miles.

“Jazzy is struggling,” she repeats my words, sad, almost teary. “Not surprised.” She looks off into the distance. “Killian was shit. I did her a favor you know, right?”

“I think so, but she claims he loved her.”

Sarah laughs, one of those spooky hysterical laughs before she calms herself and says, “Sure he did. The same way he loved all the young girls, the fucking creep.” There’s more energy in her voice now than I would expect. She’s wasted away, appears to be sick, maybe stage four cancer of some kind if I had to guess. Maybe we got here to talk to her in the nick of time.

My sense of urgency kicks in and I don’t want to wait for her to get around to telling me what I need to know. My nerves are frazzled to their end point. There’s one crucial question that I have to ask her and I’m hoping she has the answer. I blurt it out.

“What happened that night? Why did you blow Killian away with a shot gun?”

Kace flinches and tenses up. We both look at Sarah for her answer.

She lets out a loud bark and looks back and forth between me and Kace.

“She didn’t tell you? That her dear Uncle Killian raped her? Blood all over the mattress.”

I hear Kace suck in air. I can’t breathe and my heart almost stops.