Prisoned - Marni Mann Page 0,3
of us forming a tight circle.
Kyle’s teeth were chattering loud enough for Billy and me to hear. I had to get her out of this cold.
“You sure you can’t run, Billy?”
“Ahh, fuck. I can always run if I have to.”
I grabbed Kyle’s hand, and we took off.
“Then, start running!” I yelled at him from over my shoulder.
Once Kyle was sipping some hot chocolate at the diner, she finally stopped shaking. The three of us wolfed down bacon cheeseburgers with extra orders of fries and onion rings and headed over to Mario’s.
I knew Kyle had a good time at his place; she didn’t stop smiling or laughing the whole night. Mario even let us make eggs for breakfast and gave us a ride to school. Kyle fell asleep on my shoulder before Mario was even out of his neighborhood. I didn’t want to wake her when we pulled up in front of the school. She needed the sleep. But, when I did, I liked the way her eyes looked when she opened them real slow and rubbed the corners with her small fingers.
Shit, I liked it a lot.
But there weren’t many more nights like that one—the three of us together, sober, earning on the streets and celebrating with our shares. The nights that followed weren’t fun at all. They were tragic. Devastating.
They were really fucking dark…
One
Kyle
There was so much paperwork. I couldn’t see my glass desk. Piles and piles of folders and printouts and designs and mark-ups. My hands stayed frozen in my lap. There was too much. I didn’t know which project to work on first, which deadline required my immediate attention. My to-do list would have told me, but it was buried somewhere in there, too. So were my keyboard and cell phone. Someone must have been calling because the stack on the right was vibrating. I dug around until my fingertips hit the hard plastic and held it up to my ear.
“Anthony, hey. Can I call you back tonight? I’m about to step into an important meeting.”
Telling my brother that I couldn’t talk because I was completely overwhelmed would have gotten me a nasty response. I didn’t need nasty. Not now.
“I’m not calling to talk about money or the business,” he said. “I have news, and it’s something I think you’ll want to hear right now. But if you have to call me back…”
I wheeled around in my chair, so I could face the window, taking in the sight of downtown Tampa. My brother was hours away in Atlantic City, but it felt like he was standing next to me, looking at me with a disgusted stare.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Billy Ashe was found dead last night.”
I rested my hand over my chest to try and stop the ache in my heart. “Oh my God.”
Billy Ashe.
Dead.
“How? He wasn’t shot…was he?”
“Overdose.” He paused, and I felt myself relax just the tiniest bit. “Heroin, from what I hear.”
Twelve years ago, when I had been a senior in high school, we had lost Billy’s brother. Paulie’s death was a night I would never forget. It was the reason home wasn’t my home anymore.
Now, both brothers were gone.
The thought made my chest ache more and more as each second passed.
Heroin had the power to freeze pain, and Billy had lots that needed to stay iced. We’d all hurt back then—Billy, Garin, and me. But I had kept my pain frozen by burying myself in homework, and Garin had kept his in check by sinking himself into women.
A part of me had always expected Billy to get sober. To be saved somehow.
Why didn’t Garin save him? I wondered.
“The funeral is in three days,” Anthony said. “It’s been a while since you’ve been home. Maybe you should plan on coming.”
Home.
There was that word again. But Atlantic City hadn’t been my home since the day I left for college. I hadn’t returned.
Not even once.
Could I return for Billy? It had been years since we’d spoken, the last time when I was a senior in college. It was the anniversary of Paulie’s death, and I wanted to let Billy know I was graduating soon, something he’d never thought I would do. He let me go a few minutes into our call. There was a cop driving behind him, and he said he was in a stolen car.
After Paulie’s death, things changed between the guys and me. I had backed away from our relationship, and they had fought me on it for a long time. They hadn’t