“No we don’t,” Garrett says. “If I call it right, I get first choice at the rooms. Now you went and ruined it. It was going to be tails. I know it.”
“Sorry,” he says. “Maybe you should have explained the rules before you flipped.”
I slip the pick back in my pocket. “Take whichever one you want. I don’t give a shit. I’m just happy I never have to spend another night under Dirk’s roof.”
“Yeah, but you’re still under his control,” Garrett says, peeking in the bedrooms. “We all are.”
“Not for long.”
Crew asks, “Is that what you’re saving money for? To buy us out of the IRL contract?”
“I wish. But it’s a million bucks, man. Even at the rate we’re earning now, I wouldn’t have enough by myself. There are other ways to get out from under him.”
“Like what?” Bria asks.
“I’m working on it.”
Crew eyes me suspiciously, but he knows better than to air my dirty laundry in front of everyone.
Garrett points. “I’ll take that one. I couldn’t care less about the closet, but there’s an adult toy store down the street I can see from the window. Might be interesting to see who comes and goes.”
I laugh and enter my new room, stand in the center of it, and turn around. It feels like freedom.
Hours later, after I’ve finished putting my bed together and the sun is setting, I unpack boxes, starting with the heavy one. I look at each book as I put it on a shelf. I have every autobiography ever written about guitar players I’ve worshiped, binders full of sheet music, and books about composing.
A piece of paper sticks out of one of the books. I sit on the bed, staring at it. I had almost forgotten it was there. I’ll never forget the day I found it. I was fifteen. I was rummaging through Mom’s room for the weed I knew she kept hidden there. I smoked a lot back then, and there was only so much I could get away with stealing from Helen and some of Dirk’s other employees. After I found the letter, I smoked everything she had. Then I drank so much vodka, I had to be rushed to the hospital, where they pumped my stomach. She had kept it from me for over three years.
I open it hesitantly.
Liam,
I’m sorry. There are so many things I’m sorry for, I don’t even know where to start. The thing that upsets me the most is that I couldn’t protect you. I thought you’d be safe. If he was doing those things to me, he wouldn’t need you. Last night, I found out how wrong I was. And I can’t live with myself, knowing that because I didn’t say anything, he got to you. I should have realized the day I found the magazine. It’s my fault. I just hope you can forgive me. I tried all night to convince myself you’d come out of it better than me. Maybe you wouldn’t be so fucked up by everything. Maybe because you’re so much younger, things won’t get as bad and you’ll be able to forget and move on. Those are the thoughts I’ll hold onto.
When I’m gone, things will change. I left notes for Mom and Dirk. I told them it’s their job to protect you. I was too ashamed before to say anything. No need for that anymore. I’m not sure if people feel anything after they’re dead. I hope they don’t, because I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m sorry if telling them brings you shame, but I didn’t know what else to do. I hope it will help in some way, because it’s the very last thing I get to do as your brother. I loved being your brother, Liam. There’s no better brother than you.
I wish we could do our handshake one more time.
Love,
Your big brother, Luke
P.S. Don’t stop playing guitar. You’re good at it. It’s the one thing you’ve always done better than me.
I drop the letter on my bed, go to the kitchen, and pour myself a shot.
“Still celebrating, are we?” Garrett says.
I pour another and down it. “Let’s go out, see what kind of bars are around here.”
“I’m game.” He yells to the others, “Want to check out the neighborhood scene?”
Bria exits their bedroom and carries a box into the kitchen. Crew takes it from her. “Where do you want it?” She points, and he sets it down.