Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two, Page 9

  continued. “I need you to get your fucking ass up and come to the garage. We have something for you.”

  “What? Why?” I asked.

  “Why? Because I fucking said so. Get up. Come on. Don’t be a bitch,” King said.

  “I’ll be there, give me one second.” I pulled up the social networking site I’d been on when they’d interrupted me.

  I’d told the truth when I told King I wasn’t looking at porn. My dick hadn’t exactly gotten the memo that I was alive just yet, but I had hopes for the fucker or else it was just a huge useless dead thing hanging between my legs about 60 years too fucking soon.

  Glaring back at me from the computer screen was shiny black hair and dark almost black eyes. In her profile picture she was standing on dark sand behind grassy dunes, nothing like the beaches in the Logan’s Beach area. It was a candid shot. She wasn’t looking at the camera, instead she was looking off in the distance, the shadow of whoever took the picture was overlapping part of her face and immediately I hated whoever that motherfucker was who took the picture. Guy or girl. Maybe because it was obstructing me of a full view of her face or maybe it was because she looked so unguarded and I hated anyone who wasn’t me who’d gotten to see her that way.

  She didn’t post that often. The sporadic pictures that were on her timeline were all dated several months apart.

  I clicked on the ABOUT info section of her page.

  “Come the fuck on!” King yelled out and thank God he was at the garage or my head would be swimming with the sound of his deep bellowing voice.

  “Jesus fucking Christ you two!” I shouted back. Before I shutdown the computer I might have made Bear and King wait forty seconds more so I could hack into Dre’s Facebook account and updated her relationship status.

  To married.

  I wasn’t sure why the fuck I did it, but I was happy as fuck that I did. And when I walked out the front door and headed toward the garage to meet Bear and King it was with a big genuine fucking smile plastered all over my fucking face.

  PREPPY

  “God, I’ve fucking missed you, you’re so fucking beautiful,” I cooed, like I was talking to an infant. I lifted the triangle of broken mirror to eye level so I could get a more up close and personal look at the perfect lines of white powder, separated in picturesque rows on top of the glass. “Fuck, I think I’m tearing up... it’s been too fucking long, but that’s alright, we’re gonna fix that, right now. We’re gonna fix it so fucking good, baby.”

  “You gonna snort that shit or fuck it?” Bear asked and both he and King laughed reminding me that there were two others in King’s studio besides me and the blow.

  Bear was sitting on the floor with one leg pulled up so he could rest his elbow across it, his back against a bank of drawers that opened to one of King’s many toolboxes. King sat on a rolling stool with his elbow propped up against a built in counter space set back in the wall, a beer to his lips. My blow and I were taking up space on the middle cushion of the black leather couch meant to be a waiting area for King’s tattoo clients.

  The studio was all brand new. Something King had put in when he rebuilt the garage and the garage apartment. It was small, but it was clean, and all the equipment was state of the art. A custom neon sign hung over the door on the inside. It was a skull wearing a crown and a bow tie. KING’S TATTOO that blinked from green to blue to red. With all the lights off inside the wall color change, reflecting a slightly different hue with every switch of the sign.

  King had never needed to keep up the tattoo business, the money he made permanently marking the skin of bikers and spring breakers was only a fraction of what we made with the Granny Growhouses plus the other shit we always had our hands in. But as I looked around at the framed pictures of the work that King had recently done, I knew that he kept it up because it was a part of him.

  The same way I was gonna fuck up some blow. Because it was a part of me. Or at least, it was gonna be.

  “Come to Daddy,” I said. I held the rolled up bill to my nose and closed one nostril, leaning over I snorted up every last bit of the cocaine goodness. I sat back up, sniffling to make sure every last bit of white powdered goodness was as far up in my fucking brain as possible. I wiped my nose and it hit me harder than I ever remember it hitting.

  The high was fucking incredible.

  I felt invincible as Bear took the bill from my hand and snorted his own line. He passed it to King who shook his head and held up the joint he was smoking.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t party anymore,” I said. “You that pussy whipped where you can’t do a little fucking blow with your long lost dead fucking friend? I mean, we’re following all the rules right? It’s after dark, the kids aren’t home, and we’re in your shop in the garage. Article FIFTEEN, LINE TWENTY SEVEN of all your new fucking rules clearly states that this is an acceptable time to get seriously fucked up.”

  “Nope, these days I just prefer to slow the fuck down instead of speed the fuck up. It’s called relaxing in case you’ve never heard of it.”

  “Sounds fucking awful,” I said, dumping more powder from the baggie onto the mirror. “Although whatever you’ve been doing has really upped your tatt game.” I pointed to the collection of pictures on the wall. “Some of that shit is downright amazing man.” I tipped my chin to one on the bottom. A sleeve on a woman’s arm with light grey colors mixed with pinks and blues. “I mean that one’s girly but still really fucking badass.”

  King laughed. “Ray did that one.”

  I knew she was assisting King and that she’d tattooed the bird on his hand, but I didn’t know she was on that level.

  “She’s getting pretty fucking good,” King said, beaming with pride.

  “So I figure I can borrow your truck for now if that’s alright with you, Boss-Man,” I started, taking the joint he passed me. The blow putting into overdrive my lazy brain and for a few moments made me feel almost fucking normal.

  Almost.

  “I think I’ve got some cash buried somewhere just gotta remember where first, then I’ll go into Dunn’s over in Coral Pines and get my own ride, seeing as how my last one exploded and all.”

  “Why?” King asked like it was a far fetched idea.

  “See, cars take you from point A to motherfucking point B,” I pointed out. “Wait, you’re the one who has a degree and Bear’s the high school drop out, right? That’s not something that’s twisted up in my memory?

  Bear laughed and King rolled over and kicked his foot.

  “How the fuck else am I gonna get to the GG’s to inspect and collect?” They paused their little tickle slap and I didn’t miss the concerned look that passed between them.

  “Preppy, you don’t have to go back to work. We only have three or four left of the GG houses anyway. I got Billy working them for now, plus Ray helps out. There’s no rush.”

  “Billy? Like chef Billy?”

  “That’s the one. His place got flooded a few months back and until the insurance kicks in he’s been helping out here and there,” King explained.

  Bear scratched his neck. “Yeah, man. So you can relax for a hot second. Heal. Take some fucking time for yourself.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve spent too much time alone thinking. I don’t need to do it anymore. I’m fucking ready.” I stared them both down and wiped at my nose. “Are you gonna tell me that I’m not?”

  “Preppy,” King said, leaning forward and taking a long slow drag on his joint. “Ray needs the truck for the kids and I’ve got my bike, but Bear and I already talked about it and he’s got a few rides around the club laying around we can get fixed up for you.”

  “Alright then,” I said, snorting two more lines and lighting my own cigarette. “I missed drugs,” I lamented. Cocaine may not be comforting to some people, but to me it was like meatloaf and apple pie.

  It was home.

  I looked up to the ceiling and then through the window of the backyard. “How the fuck did you afford
this garage? The house being fixed up? Last I checked your finances solely revolved around getting Max back and that was more than any of us had combined.”

  King filled me in on the story, although I felt like it was more of the same deja-vu I felt with Thia when he was telling me about Ray’s ex husband and Max and going to rescue her from the psycho.

  “That didn’t answer my question. How can you afford all this?”

  Bear chimed in. “Because as it turns out, King didn’t need the money for Max. Senator man brought her back on his own accord. Then it seems that Ray came into some money. Like a lot of fucking money.” Bear smiled, “So...”

  “Boss-man,” I said, turning my attentions to him. He was already rolling his eyes. “You’ve got a sugar mama?”

  “Go fuck yourself, prep,” King said although he was laughing when he said it. He took the bottle of whiskey from Bear and poured a long stream down his throat before passing it to me.

  I was still swallowing when Bear sat up from the toolbox. He looked at me with a serious look on his face. A look I wanted to avoid because serious looks came with serious questions and I wanted nothing to do with those. “Prep, I gotta ask you. The girl. The one who came to see you. I remembered her from back in the day. I thought she was a BBB or something but that doesn’t seem right either.”

  “Or something,” I shrugged, taking another shot from the bottle. I passed it back to Bear.

  “Prep, I’ve known you since we were stupid and young, now that I’m older and a little less stupid, I know there’s more to this story then you’re telling me ‘cause there ain’t no fucking way a BBB would be comin’ round here unless it was to knife you in your sleep.”

  “I’d like to hear this too,” King said, leaning forward onto his knees.

  “Ain’t much to say,” I lied. “You might know her a lot better than you think you do,” I said to Bear.

  Like backdoor better.

  “Well if she was a club girl then yeah, of course I know her. And I recognized her right away when she came over to the house. I just can’t remember her around the club, or being at the parties with the other BBB’s.”

  “She wasn’t a BBB. She was...a girl who hung around,” I tried to explain without going into too much detail, growing more and more frustrated with the fucking inquisition.

  “A friend...who you were fucking?” King asked.

  I sighed and leaned my elbows on my knees. “You’d just got sent away,” I said to King. “And Bear was out on that long ass ride to wherever. Grace was in the treatment center. Dre came around strung out on H.” I smiled at the memory. “She tried to rob one of my GG’s. Turned out to be her grandmother's house. Mirna. She stuck around. Helped me with some shit I needed help with. Then she left. That was all there was to it.” I shrugged and passed the bill to Bear who snorted two lines off the table. His dark blue eyes were open wide, bright, and clear as fuck. “Not a fucking big deal,” I added.

  “Prep, this girl came back after years out of nowhere, and then the wife thing,” Bear said like he was trying to prove a point. “We don’t know this chick. She could be involved in all this somehow. Part of the master plan that kept you locked up for Chop. Maybe if you tell us more. Tell us exactly what happened down there,” he pushed.

  “No fucking way,” I said.

  “Preppy, if you tell us then...” King started.

  “Listen,” I cut him off. I pointed between the two of them. “I know you two are looking to find out what happened to me. To see who else was in on it or who helped Chop cover up the fact that I was still alive. I get that we need to figure out who else might have had their hands in this so we can wipe them from the face of the fucking planet, but put your fucking detective hats away for one second here. The girl, Dre, she isn’t trying to scam you or kill me or anything like that. She didn’t have a part in any of Chop’s crazy shit. I called her my wife when I was coming to because I was coming out of a motherfucking coma. I mean, I saw this video once on MeTube where the guy was waking up from dental surgery and thought his wife was Mother Teresa, started praying to her and everything.”

  King leaned forward against his hands on the back of the sofa across from me. “Tell me something, this new look of yours got anything to do with this chick coming back around?”

  “How the fuck do you know she was back around?”

  King raised his eyebrows as if I should already know. I did.

  “Ray,” I muttered.

  King nodded.

  Not being able to sit in one spot any longer I stood up and paced in front of the couch. “No, this ain’t got shit to do with her,” I answered, and it was the truth. How would I even go about telling my friends that I shaved my head and face bald because I hated looking at myself only to find that I hated the shaved version of me even more? They’d been through so much thinking I was dead. The last thing they needed was to bare my fucking burdens as well.

  That’s why I was never going to tell them everything that happened with Chop.

  Never.

  They both eyed me skeptically. I was about to explain further that they didn’t need to worry about Dre when Bear’s eyes lit up. “Fuck, I remember her now. I remember talking to you about her. Her dad was looking for her or something like that...” his face lit up in a huge smile and I wanted to both smile back and punch him in the god damned face when I realized what memory he was recalling. “How the fuck did I almost forget that?”

  “Forget what?” King asked.

  Bear scrunched up his forehead as he tried to recall the memory. “I can’t remember all the details, but it was here. A party I think.”

  “Yeah, sounds about right,” I said.

  “You had her...here?” King asked.

  “Why is that so strange? We had all sorts of bitches at our parties.”

  Bear’s smile grew even brighter and I froze, knowing exactly what he was about to say because I saw the memories taking hold in that brain of his. “‘Cause this is the only bitch we both had our dicks in at the same time.”

  I could have said a million things but instead I chose to change the subject. “So when are we having my homecoming party?” I asked.

  “You ready for that?”

  “I’m ready for anything,” I said, snorting another line and hoping the blow would help me believe my own lie.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DRE

  The house itself felt the same but looked a little different. The garage had either been remodeled or replaced because even in the dark it looked brand new. The main house had a new coat of paint for sure. The numerous windows are clean and appear to have new white window frames. The soffit that had been rusting and falling down were all new as well. The space under the house that used to be cluttered with random broken parts was completely clear of junk and was now being used as parking. The truck that Ray had driven when she came to see me at Mirna’s took up the space on the far wall. Several motorcycles took up the rest.

  Torches with bright flames burned along the front walkway. All the lights were glowing from the bottom story, but only a single light was on upstairs, the window glowing yellow before whoever was in that room, that VERY familiar room, abruptly shut the blinds.

  “This was a really bad idea,” I whispered to Brandon who wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have come.” I turned back around but Brandon grabbed me by the wrist.

  “You’re here now, Dre. You came to sell the house and get closure right? Well,” he said, gesturing to the house. Laughter, along with the light thump from the beat of the music playing echoed from the backyard. I knew where Brandon was about to say and he must have saw that I knew because he never finished his sentence. Instead, he took my hand and pulled me toward the house. I could’ve argued but there was no point. I hated it when he was right, which was often. I tried to relax my stiff shoulders by taking a deep calming breath and exhaling slowly.

  Nope, didn’t work.

  “Hey, over here” Ray sh
outed, spotting us from the porch, waving her arms around in the air. “I’m so glad you made it,” she said, approaching us. With Ray was the same beautiful girl with strawberry blonde hair who was there the day I discovered that Preppy was alive. “This is Thia,” Ray introduced.

  “You can call me, Ti,” she offered with a sweet smile. My eyes dropped to the humungous baby belly between us. “Yeah, I know, I’m huge,” Ti said when she saw where I was looking. She patted her belly. “Any day now though and this little munchkin will finally stop stomping on my bladder. I swear to Christ I feel like the baby is using my pelvis as a trampoline. Up and down and up and down. I’m in shock I haven’t split in two yet.” I could feel how uncomfortable she was. Beads of sweat appeared on her pale skin, spotting over the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She fanned herself with her hand. “Is it hot out here? I feel like it’s really hot.”

  It was the coolest night since I’d arrived in Logan’s Beach, although that meant it was in the seventies so to a pregnant woman that had to still be borderline surface of the sun temperature.

  “I’m Brandon,” Brandon offered, shaking Ti’s hand.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce you again,” I apologized.

  “No worries, I know you have a lot on your mind.” Brandon gave my shoulder a squeeze and didn’t let go. He turned toward Ray and