Bleed Like Me (7 page)

“Where's Kenji?” Brooks asked.

The guy who opened the door nodded to the back of the house and snagged the bong from a dreadlocked white guy wearing no shirt. Brooks grabbed my elbow and steered me to a back room.

“Kenji,” he yelled, banging on a door with
LEGALIZE POT
stickers all over it. He turned the knob and pushed himself in.

Kenji and a too-skinny white woman lay naked on a bed. Neither of them moved to cover themselves when we entered. Kenji smiled and I noticed he was missing a few of his front teeth. He was tall and wiry, his dark skin ashy as if he could use a bath in a vat of lotion. Holy hell, what was I doing here?

“Brooks. My man.” Kenji stood up and I dropped my gaze. Very few things fazed me to the point of reaction, but uncircumcised penises were a bit much right after breakfast.

Kenji and Brooks did a complicated handshake and I
looked at the skinny white woman. She was more of a girl, really. Probably not much older than me. Her eyes were glazed over. She didn't appear to register us entering the room.

“I'm here for Ray's package. You got it?”

Kenji turned around and started to rifle through his drawers. I elbowed Brooks and signaled to Kenji's bare ass. Brooks smirked at me.

“There you go,” Kenji said, turning back to us. “Tell him it's the good stuff and he owes me.”

Kenji handed a bag of white powder to Brooks. My mouth dropped open. Drug run? What the hell? I ditched breakfast for this?

Kenji nodded to me. “Your girl want a sample?”

“No,” Brooks answered before I could even open my mouth.

Kenji's eyes darted between the two of us. He raised his eyebrows but then shrugged. “If you change your mind, lovely, you know where to find me.”

Brooks stepped in front of me. “She won't.”

The two of them did some sort of silent communication with each other and I eyed the door.
Please get me out of here
.

Brooks steered me out of the room. “I'll give Ray the message,” he said over his shoulder.

We moved toward the front of the house. One of the six guys stood when he saw us and maneuvered himself against the
front door. He was massive, more like a professional wrestler than a stoner. His body blocked any chance of exit.

“How much for your girl?” He stared at me. My arms curled across my chest and I took a tiny step toward Brooks.
Crapcrapcrapcrap
.

Brooks paused for less than a beat. “She's infected.”

My stomach clenched. What?

Gigantor's eyes roved over me and I thought I might barf. “Yeah?” he said. “With what?”

“Herpes and HIV.”

I opened my mouth. Brooks's eyes darted to mine and he gave a tiny shake of his head.

Gigantor stepped to the side. “Nah. Not worth it. Half the people I know have HIV, but herpes is a bitch to get rid of. Sorry, girlie. You woulda had fun with me.”

I blinked back angry tears and stepped out of the house. As soon as we got inside Brooks's car, I turned on him.

“You took me to a crack house and almost sold me? What the hell?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn't have sold you. That's why I told him you were infected.”

“Couldn't you just have tried ‘no'?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I've tussled with him before. It's not worth it. Sure, I'd win, but I wouldn't come out unscathed. Easier this way.”

“Easier to let him think I was infected?”

He turned to me. “Gannon. Why do you care what a bunch of guys in a crack house think?”

I shook my head and faced forward. My hands reached for another cigarette. Brooks snatched it from my fingers.

“Enough with the menthols. I didn't think you were gonna smoke the whole pack in one morning. You're stinking up my car.”

I crossed my arms. “Take me home.”

“No.”

“Take me home.”

“No. I have a plan. Trust me. You'll like it.”

Trust him? He'd just taken me into a crack house. How was this trustworthy behavior? Even if I was the one who'd insisted on going in with him.

“You were the one who wouldn't wait in the car,” he said, and I punched him for knowing what I was thinking.

He didn't even flinch, just traced his fingers over the hickey on my neck. “Come on. I'm sorry. Please. Trust me.”

I released a breath. My moods around him were all over the place, but still, it was better than being home for the afternoon with my brothers. Sad as that sounded. I finally nodded and offered up a silent prayer that I wouldn't regret my choice.

After we'd been driving fifteen minutes with nothing but
loud music between us, I couldn't squelch my curiosity any longer. I switched the radio off and faced him. “I take it you've been to that house before?”

Brooks shrugged. “A few times. I'm not into crack, if that's what you're worried about.”

I was, but I wasn't about to tell him that. “I've never been to a place like that.”

Brooks snorted and the bar in his eyebrow moved up and down. “I figured. It's not
exactly
a crack house. It used to be Kenji's aunt's place before she died. Those are just some of the guys he hangs out with.”

“And Kenji's a dealer?”

“Yep.”

So it
was
a crack house. I took a deep breath. “Drugs aren't really my thing. I've tried pot, but that's kind of it.”

Brooks didn't respond. His hands gripped the steering wheel and he turned onto Lake Shore Drive.

“This would be the time when you tell me drugs aren't really your thing either.”

He barked out a bitter laugh. “What do you want me to say? I've been in the foster care system a long time. Kenji was seventeen when I first got in it, living in a group home because his aunt was too sick to take care of him. I met him. I liked him. I'm not an addict, but the last few years would've sucked without him.”

I bit my lip. How could I even begin to understand Brooks's life?

He glanced at me sideways. “I don't come in a perfect package, Gannon. Perfect is boring.”

I leaned my head against the window and stared at the boats in the harbor. The desire for numb swept over me and I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing for the safety of my razors and the oblivion they brought. My hands fisted and unfisted. Brooks reached over and pulled the hair on the back of my neck. Relief passed over me for too short a time before his grip loosened. I reached for his hand, forcing him to grab a bigger chunk of my hair, and then jerked forward, leaving him holding a fistful of dark strands.

Brooks looked between the road, my face, and the loose strands. Then he startled me by letting out a belly laugh. He dropped the hair onto the floor and squeezed my thigh too hard before patting me.

Still smiling, he winked at me and said, “That's my girl.”

I smiled back and leaned my head against the seat, the pain in my scalp uncoiling the overwhelming emotions in the pit of my stomach.

“You're taking me to the zoo?” I eyed the Lincoln Park Zoo sign and pursed my lips.

“Oh, Christ no. Poor animals. It's worse than juvie.”

I exhaled. I hated zoos. They were almost as depressing as the circus. My parents tried to encourage me to take part in their family outings to these places, but after I read the sign about the seal dying because too many assholes had thrown coins and pop tops into the pool and he'd ingested them, they stopped making me go.

Brooks pulled me out of the passenger seat and gripped my hand. The phone in my pocket buzzed for the tenth time. Mom, demanding I come home. I'd texted her after we left Kenji's, but she was still pissed and “worried.” This really meant she needed a referee for her fight with the boys. Dad would already be in
the tiny windowless corner room in the basement, pretending to work but really watching football too loud, avoiding all of it.

About nine months ago after Luis was suspended for fighting, Dad had started to withdraw from our family life. I could tell by how late he worked, how early he left in the mornings, and how much he pretended the boys weren't a problem. It was like something cracked and he gave up. He'd been an insurance broker for years. Sudden late nights should have been a red flag for Mom. But she was worn down and didn't want to admit the toll the boys had taken on the two of them. She refused to even acknowledge the dysfunction in our family. She couldn't give the boys back, although once, in the heat of a particularly nasty argument with Luis, I'd heard her threaten it.

“You're gonna like this,” Brooks promised again, squeezing my hand.

I dragged my feet, unsure of what constituted a fun date in Brooks's mind. He wrapped his arm around my neck and tugged me closer. We approached the tiny pond by the north entrance of the zoo. He gave me a widemouthed grin and pointed to several paddleboats lined up along the edge of the pond. I raised a brow at him.

“Paddleboats?”

His boy grin lit up his face and I had to tamp down my impulse to jump him. “Yeah. Pretty romantic, eh?” He wagged his eyebrows and I snorted.

“It might be if it wasn't closed on Sunday.” I pointed to the sign that listed the limited fall hours.

His fingers tickled the edge of my ear and he leaned closer to me. “I think I might've already mentioned this,” he whispered, and I shivered slightly. “But closed signs aren't really a deterrent for me.”

He lifted me off the ground and dropped me over the low wooden fence by the pond.

“Someone might see us.” I glanced around at the joggers on the nearby path. “This isn't exactly a private spot.”

“And?” He hopped over after me and made his way to the line of paddleboats.

I shut my mouth. There wasn't going to be any talking Brooks out of this. His eyes buzzed like a little boy who wouldn't leave the amusement park until he got to ride the roller coaster. He approached the last paddleboat in line and tried to push it away from the others. A chintzy bike lock held it in place. I bit back a laugh. Brooks grinned at me and pulled a Leatherman tool from his pocket. He squeezed the lock between the pliers and then jumped on the tool as hard as he could. Both the lock and the tool broke.

“Son of a bitch. I just got that,” he said, picking up the broken Leatherman. He shook his head and snatched the lock from the boat. “Your chariot.” He gestured to the paddleboat and I took a small step forward.

“You're not afraid of the water, are you?” His voice sounded almost disappointed.

I shook my head.

“Thank Christ for that. I'd hate to lose a Leatherman for nothing.”

Before I could even respond, he grabbed my elbow and shoved me into the boat. I wiggled a little, squirming to avoid the puddle of water between the seats. Brooks hopped into the boat after me, kicking us off the side of the dock. His long legs pedaled the boat backward while he steered with a handle in the middle. I tried to pedal, but my feet kept slipping. Finally Brooks batted them away. Several people saw us and pointed, but they didn't seem to care that we were doing something illegal. The cool fall air tickled my face. I shut my eyes, tilted my head back, and let the lingering warmth of the sun calm me.

“I was right,” Brooks said after he'd pedaled us toward the center of the pond. “It's fun, isn't it?”

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. “It's fun.”

He stopped pedaling. “So tell me about your brothers.”

Four guys jogging past shouted something to us, but I couldn't hear what they said. Brooks flipped them off and turned back to me. “Your brothers?”

“Yeah. Luis, Miguel, and Alex. Eleven, nine, and eight. There isn't a lot to say. My parents got them too late. They'd
been on the streets in Guatemala too long. Mom and Dad could have helped Alex, maybe, if he'd been on his own, but there was no hope with all three.” I searched the pocket of my hoodie for my cigarettes but remembered I'd left them in the car. My fingers itched for something to do. Brooks grabbed my hands and sandwiched them between his.

“So when did they adopt them?”

“Five years ago.”

He studied my face. I looked past him, the edges of me starting to blur into numbness.

“And when did you disappear?” he asked after the space between us had grown too large.

I bit the inside of my cheek and kept my mouth shut. He released my hands and pulled me onto his lap. It was awkward and uncomfortable in the paddleboat, but he held tight. I leaned in to him, tucking my head against his chest, unwilling to face any pity from him.

“Gannon? When did you disappear?”

“About then,” I whispered.

He shifted me back and lifted my chin. His thumb traced the edge of my jaw. “That's why you cut?”

I shrugged. It wasn't exactly the reason, but it was good enough. I couldn't explain it any other way. Brooks couldn't understand the way it made me feel, even if he understood I needed it. It relieved an unbearable pressure inside me. Which
sounded psychotic even to me, and I was the one living it.

His mouth descended on mine and it felt like he wanted to swallow me whole. I could barely breathe, but I didn't want it to stop. His hands roved over me, sliding down the curve of my hips and back up to the cuts on the sides of my stomach. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed into him, feeling his sinewy muscles over his thin frame.

“Hey! Hey!” a voice from behind us shouted.

I pulled back, breathing hard.

Brooks's gaze drifted past me. “Damn.” He nudged me from his lap and started pedaling fast. I whipped my head around. A short Asian man was standing by the other paddleboats, waving his arms at us.

“Who's that?”

“Owner of the paddleboats, I guess,” Brooks said as he steered us to the bank on the opposite side of the pond.

“Crap.” I shifted forward and joined his frantic pedaling.