151 Days (29 page)

“He too chicken shit to come in himself?” I asked, venom spewing out with each word. “He has to send his boyfriend to see if the coast is clear?”

“He doesn—”

“Shut up. You tell Tyler I have nothing to say to him, and if I did, I sure wouldn’t say it to his closet case of a boyfriend. This isn’t high school. He doesn’t need to slip me a note in my locker. Tell him to be a man and—”

“He doesn’t know I’m here!” he screamed over me.

“Well, of course he doesn’t,” I replied. “Because the only thing Tyler Parker knows how to do is run. Run and hide like a little bitch. I don’t know you, Matt, and I don’t want to, but take my word. That man is not to be trusted, and he will bring you nothing but pain.”

Matt waited for me to take a pause. “He came out.” When he saw I had no response to that at all, he repeated it. “He came out at some kid’s funeral, and it was because of what happened between you and him. He hates himself for what happened, and you can’t think that he doesn’t feel like shit for what he did.”

I let a few seconds of silence settle between us before I asked him, “And?”

That took him back a second. “And what?”

“And nothing,” I said. “I don’t care if he died and came back as a whole other person. He is still Tyler, and he still hasn’t said one word to me since that day. Not one. So it doesn’t matter if he grew hoofs and a horn and became a unicorn. He is still the asshole he always was. So you two have a nice life together, and when he fucks you over, and he will, just assume an ‘I told you so’ from me.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the expression on my face made it pretty clear the conversation was over.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, leaving the bag on the counter, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I picked up the bag and threw it at him as he opened the door. “You forgot your beard.”

He caught it and looked at me with an incredibly sad expression before walking out.

My heart was pounding, and I could feel my breath coming like the DJ had just played the
Grease
megamix and I just had to dance it out. I looked at my wrist and nodded. “Just as I thought,” I said to myself. “It’s vodka time.”

“C
AN
YOU
believe the nerve?” I said into the phone.

“Fuck off and die!” my sister responded, shouting. I waited for a few seconds before she added, “Yeah, it does seem kinda immature.”

I took another drink of my wine as I flipped through Netflix for something to watch. “It’s bullshit. Passive-aggressive bullshit.”

“Awww, poor baby gonna suck a dick and cry?” she called out. I waited for her actual response. “Well… yeah, I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” Before I could respond, she exclaimed loudly, “Then stop fucking playing, noob!”

I guess I should explain a little about Nicole, my little sister.

Nicole was the only person I had ever met who could be a spy. She looked like a typical, just-turned-twenty, pretty girl who liked nothing more than partying. And though that was true to a point, Nikki hid a double life that no one else had guessed.

She was a secret nerd.

She lived to log in to first-person shooting games and head-shoot teenage douche bags while taunting them over voice chat. Now normally the sound of an actual female voice in one of those games would be like dropping a naked Channing Tatum in the middle of Fire Island, but in this case it was different. Nicole was viciously deadly and had a reputation online already about her expertise with a virtual rifle. Most thought she was an urban legend, a girl who played video games; others assumed she was, like, five hundred pounds and owned cats. Both were wrong. For fun, Nikki would wander into Best Buy and ask the tech guys what was a good computer and stuff, all the while twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes. If the guy tried to sell her crap, she knew he was an asshole and shut him down quick. If he knew what he was talking about and tried to do her right, she would eventually drop her number.

It was sad to see so many straight boys trip themselves over quad processing.

So when I called her to tell her about Matt’s little adventure, she was in the middle of a session of “head shot Saturday,” as she called it, so if I wanted to talk, she would have to multitask while she killed people.

“What’s another way of looking at it?” I asked cautiously.

She sighed, which was directed toward me, and said, “Crybaby,” which was directed to some poor jerk who just got his game ended. “I can’t see this Tyler person sending his boyfriend in to feel you out.”

I almost did a spit take. “You don’t even know this guy!”

“No,” she said calmly. “But I do know guys, and what is there to gain from it?
If
he sent his boyfriend in, then why would said boyfriend give himself up and tell you?” Before I could respond, she shouted, “Sit the fuck down, bitch!”

I hated the fact she was smart. I really hated the fact she was smart and younger than me.

“Maybe he’s an idiot,” I threw out, already feeling the holes in my argument start to widen.

“Yeah, he’s a guy, so that means he’s an idiot,” she said, the sound of plastic being tapped rapidly accenting her words. “But he wouldn’t go through the whole browsing show if he was that stupid.”

Did I mention I hated the fact she was smart?

“Okay then, Veronica Mars, then why did he come in?”

She paused a few seconds before answering, which meant she was actually thinking about her response. That didn’t bode well. “He came in there for the very reason he said he did. I think he was telling the truth.”

“Then what are you arguing with me about?” I looked over at the bottle of wine. It was a little lower than I expected.

“We’re arguing because you said you were pissed because Tyler sent this Matt guy in to spy on you. I don’t think he did, and I think you don’t think that either.”

Yes, I had drunk a little too much wine, because it took me three times to get that sentence down. “So if I did know that, then why am I upset?” I was no longer sure if I was arguing with her or actually asking her.

There was silence, real silence on the other line, and I realized she had paused her game. That meant I really wasn’t going to like what came next.

“I think you’re pissed because you thought he was flirting with you, and for a couple of seconds you liked it.” I heard her put the controller down. “And I think you think that somehow you’re cheating on Riley. So you’re mad at Matt for making you think that, and you’re mad at yourself for liking feeling that way.”

My eyes were stinging as I put the wine down.

“What are you still doing there, Mario?” she asked, using the nicknames we used when we were much, much younger. “You know the princess is in another castle.”

I bit, literally bit, my lip to stop myself from sobbing. “Maybe I don’t have any lives left.”

“Come home,” she said, tears in her voice now.

“I need to go,” I said, turning the TV off.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“Thanks for the chat. Be nice to the boys,” I told her gruffly as I tried to cough away my emotions.

She sighed in resignation. “Call me later.”

I didn’t reply as I hung up the phone.

I
WAS
nursing a pretty sizable hangover the next day as Kyle talked to me.

I wish I could say I was paying attention, but the truth was, the salient facts of what he was saying were lost on me as Nicole’s words bounced around my head. Painfully bounced, I might add. I should have just kept the store closed and gorged myself on
Ab Fab
until this feeling of darkness passed.

“So what do you think?” Kyle asked me.

I looked up at him and realized a good chunk of time had passed, and I hadn’t said a word in response. I opened my mouth to say something as I prayed for something to happen to save me from having to explain to this poor boy I hadn’t been listening to him.

They say when God is feeling puckish, he answers wishes.

The door swung open, and I felt the whole shop tilt like I was in the
Batman
show from the ’60s. I literally stopped breathing as she walked into my shop and looked around with casual arrogance. It seemed Matt was only one of the spirits that were going to haunt me.

This was the ghost of Christmas Past, Dolores Mathison. Riley’s mother.

“Oh my God, it’s her,” Kyle whispered to me.

I felt two things simultaneously. One, relief because he could see her too, which was followed by immediate shock that he recognized her. “You know her?” I asked in the same whisper.

He nodded. “She was the lady who came to the school board meeting to get the alliance made. Everyone made it seem like she was a big thing.”

“A big thing” wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

She looked over at me, and I felt that same sickening feeling in my stomach, as if just standing there, I was a disappointment to her. I almost succumbed to the impulse to flee in the face of true evil before remembering that this was my shop, and there was no way Cruella De Vil here was going to give me attitude within these four walls.

“Kyle,” I said loud enough for her to hear, “go in the back and fold something.” My eyes never left her.

“Fold what?” he asked, confused.

I looked over at him and jerked my neck. “Anything. Just go in the back.”

He nodded and turned around, making sure to walk as far as humanly possible away from her.

“Robert,” she said, knowing damn well I hated being called that.

“Dolly,” I said with a huge fake smile, damn well knowing she despised that. “What brings you down off the mountain? Running out of virgins to sacrifice?”

I saw the small twitch around her mouth and knew I had scored.

“Charming as ever,” she said, giving me a smile that made me feel even smaller than I already did. “So this is your place?”

“Be it ever so humble,” I replied, waiting for the dig.

She looked around again and then back to me. “It’s far too fashionable for Foster. I can’t imagine how you stay in business.”

I didn’t have a response to that because I couldn’t tell if it was an insult or not.

“You look well,” she said, walking up to the counter. “How have you been?”

“Alone,” I said, each letter frozen in acid like bile.

She looked at me, and I could see the pain in her eyes. “I know the feeling.”

Neither one of us said a word, since we were both looking at the invisible corpse of Riley lying there between us. My head was pounding, and I knew it wasn’t the damn hangover. I decided to get this over with and just pull the trigger. “So what brings you in?” I asked her, not caring one bit why she was there.

“I was…,” she began to say and then paused, “…nowhere near this neighborhood,” she finished truthfully. “You don’t happen to have something to drink here? This is far more difficult than I had expected.”

I slid open the bottom drawer under the counter and pulled out half a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. There is absolutely no reason for me to explain how or why they got there; suffice it to say they were there and move on. I poured us both a shot of the amber liquid and held mine up. She looked at hers, and I wondered if she was going to chicken out. Finally she shrugged, picked it up, and tapped my glass. “To Riley.”

That I could drink to.

It burned going down, and I winced as I swallowed. She didn’t as much as blink as she threw it back. She looked at the glass for a moment in contemplation. “Quaint,” she commented and held it out. “Again.”

I poured, knowing that at the very least it would deal with the hangover.

After the second shot, she grabbed one of the stools by the wall and sat down across from me. “I was serious. This place is far too progressive for most of the residents. I can’t imagine the kids buy enough to keep you solvent.”

I nodded and poured myself another one. “It’s a labor of love. I sell enough to keep the lights on. Everything else is already paid for.” I held the bottle over her glass, and she thought about it for a few seconds and then nodded.

“Riley’s settlement,” she said as I picked up my glass. “Right?”

I gripped the shot glass tightly, and a few drops fell onto the counter. “Yes.” I was surprised I got the word out with my teeth clenched shut. The family had given me a pretty sizable chunk of cash when Riley had died and all I had to do was never talk to them again, which suited me just fine. It was a nice way to get cash if you can stomach watching the most important man in your universe die in front of you.

“Good,” she said, tossing the shot back like it was water. “He would have liked this place.” She put the shot glass down. “He would have liked to see you happy.” She looked at me. “You are happy, right?”

I took my shot and nearly broke the counter as I slammed the glass down. “Of course I’m not, Dolores. How can I be?”

Her mask slipped a bit, and I saw the unabashed pain on her expression as she nodded slightly to me. “Arthur asked me if I was happy the other day, and I said those exact words.”

“How is Arthur?” I asked, the warmth of the booze dispelling my hesitation. “He still threatening to sue anyone who says his son was gay?”

Her face paled as she froze in place. After a second she looked away. “I deserved that. We were horrible to you after what happened. That was inexcusable.”

Somehow her making the fact that she and her fucktard of a husband tried to destroy me because they blamed me for Riley’s death sound like it was a lapse of manners instead of the travesty it was just infuriated me.

I opened my mouth to hurl a dozen biting and completely insulting comments at her, and something in my mind stopped me. Instead I heard myself ask in a very neutral tone, “What did you come here for, Dolores? Forgiveness? Absolution? Fine.” I made the sign of the cross at her. “Go forth and sin no more. Anything else?”

She looked like she was going to stand up and be insulted, but instead she just sat there, looking like the frail, old lady she really was. She had always been this juggernaut of a person to me; the fact she was composed of actual skin and bones seemed ludicrous. I would have believed she had been sent from the future to kill John Connor before I acknowledged she was a human being.