“Can we talk about what happened in L.A.?” she asked.
She wanted details about his stay there, but he wasn’t interested in providing them. The past two weeks were nothing more than a painful blur. “What do you want to know?”
“Why would you go back there? You know what they’ll do if they find you.”
“That isn’t true for every member of The Crew. Just certain ones.”
“Any of them could try and impress Horse by bringing him your head on a platter.”
“I was willing to risk it.” When he’d started out, he’d sort of hoped the trip would end that way, that he’d go out with a bang instead of wasting away on dope.
“For what? What’d you do while you were there?”
He hadn’t been partying quite as much as she assumed. But he wasn’t going to say that. He couldn’t cope with her skepticism. This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to clean himself up. “Nothing, really.”
“You had to be doing something. You were gone for fourteen days, and you wouldn’t even pick up your phone.”
He clenched his jaw against another cramp, had to wait until it passed before he could answer. “I already explained that.”
“You didn’t explain why you couldn’t use someone else’s phone.”
And he wasn’t going to. “Let it go.”
“You were that strung out?”
She had no idea what he’d been through, how hard he was trying, but he couldn’t fault her for her disgust. He was just as disgusted with himself. “I guess so.”
“Who were you with? You don’t know anybody there except Crew.”
“I grew up in L.A. Trust me, I know plenty of people.” None of whom were very good for him, which was why he hadn’t looked many of them up.
“So you renewed friendships from the past.”
“That’s right.”
“If you weren’t socializing with your old gang buddies, how’d you find out they know where I’m living?”
“From Mona. I told you when we talked last night.”
“Shady’s girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend. They broke up before he died.”
“Are you sure she’s not holding a grudge for how he died?”
“I’m sure.”
“And yet she still hangs out with his buddies.”
Thanks to drugs, she probably always would. “The Crew keeps her supplied.”
That was why he’d tracked her down. He knew Mona would be able to replace the pills he’d thrown away or, failing that, get him some heroin. He also knew she’d be willing. So he’d contacted her sister, who was in the phone book, and her sister had put him in touch with Mona.
But he hadn’t taken the drugs she brought. Seeing what her addiction had done to her was too much of a jolt. He didn’t want to be like her. Instead of succumbing, he’d flushed the pills down the toilet and crawled back into the tub to suffer some more.
“But if they find out she told you, they’ll kill her,” Laurel said.
“I did her a favor once, okay? She felt like she owed me.”
When Laurel closed the air-conditioning vent closest to her, he considered turning off the AC. It wasn’t so hot that he needed to run it. But the cool air distracted him from his misery just enough that he could drive another mile and then another. Right now, that was the best he could do.
“What kind of favor did you do for her?” she asked.
“It’s not important.”
“I want to know.”
“I gave her a ride once. That’s all.”
The way she watched him suggested she could tell there was more to it. “You helped her even though it put you at risk?”
It was a guess. But it was close. “Not so much. I’d already assumed the risk by being where I was when I found her. I just took an interest when she needed it, gave her a shoulder to cry on and another chance to escape, and she was grateful. You must remember some of this. I’ve told you before.”
She didn’t respond to that last part. “Did you sleep with her?”
He shot her a glance. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m curious.”
“No. Not when I helped her out, and not when she helped me out, either.” Mona had been used by so many men there was no telling what diseases she carried. Besides, he’d never found her appealing. He’d just felt sorry for her because of the crappy way Shady and the others treated her.
Laurel kneaded her forehead. “But you’ve slept with other women since we’ve been together. Haven’t you?”
He didn’t answer. He knew she wouldn’t like the truth. Maybe they weren’t together anymore but certain feelings lingered.
“Wow. Where did that come from?” She gave an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked.”
He did. She’d asked because it wasn’t a lack of love or attraction that’d driven them apart, and that made it difficult not to fall back into bed. Not until the morning after, or maybe several mornings after, did they figure out they couldn’t get along. But it was his shortcomings that came between them, not hers. “What’s going on with you and your neighbor?”
She winced. “Don’t ask.”
“You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you.”
“No, not ‘sleeping with him.’”
He wished he could see her eyes. “It’s not like you to lie.”
“I’m not lying, exactly.”
“So do you want to explain why you went bright red the moment he walked into the kitchen?”
She fidgeted with her purse. “We spent a few hours together at a cabin once. That’s all.”
He lowered the volume of the radio. “When?”
“Last night.”
“Oh, God. No wonder he hated me on sight,” he said with a laugh.
She turned accusing eyes on him. “I believe you were the one who started that little power struggle.”
Allowing his smile to persist—at least this subject distracted him from his illness—he gazed out at the velvet-green pine trees, the clear blue sky, the black ribbon of road. Laurel had been living in a good place the past twenty-four months. He liked knowing that. Imagining her and the kids happy here made him feel less guilty for letting them down in D.C. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You’re going to admit it?”