Yet a Stranger (The First Quarto #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,117
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“If you’re going to deck me, deck me. If not, I’m freezing my balls off.”
“Stay away from my family.”
“Fine.”
“And tell Augs too. I don’t want to see either of you around my family ever again.” Orlando’s thick eyebrows drew together; he looked on the verge of crying. “Just stay the fuck away!”
“Is that all?”
“Wayne admitted to the kickbacks. His whole life is ruined, thanks a lot. And it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s his fault. Your family is just going to treat you like shit because it makes the rest of them feel better.”
“I shouldn’t have ever asked you and Augs to help. I never should have done that. I’m so fucking stupid.”
The wind whistled through the open door. Theo’s face was freezing by inches. He angled his body and said, “Why don’t you come in?”
“No.”
“I think you need to talk to someone.”
“No!”
They stood there, Theo’s skin pebbling, Orlando huffing. His breath was still steaming, whipping around him in the wind. On the other side of the road, something small and brown moved through the weeds. A vole, Theo thought. He had the sudden urge to find the .22 downstairs and shoot it.
“He didn’t do anything to Cal. He turned over his cell phone records. He was at the basketball expo that whole weekend. He never left the hotel. Same with Nia getting shot. He was out of town. So it’s over. I wanted you to know that: it’s done.”
“Ok. Like you said, it’s done. But you’re not the one who needs to carry this around, Orlando. You don’t need to feel bad for what happened.”
Orlando’s face screwed up. He shook his head.
“Come on,” Theo said, “just come inside for a minute.”
When he touched Orlando’s shoulder, Orlando punched him. It wasn’t much of a punch, just enough to split Theo’s lip. He caught the blood with the back of his hand.
“Fuck you,” Orlando said. He ran down the stairs, climbed into a slate-gray BMW, and pulled away. The tires slewed at the turn. For a moment, it looked like he’d go off the road. Then, somehow, he recovered, and the car roared out of sight.
Theo was in the bathroom, trying to stop the bleeding with a gauze pad, when he heard the back door open. The sound of heavy boots came across the kitchen. In the mirror, Cart was a backwards version of himself. It was more noticeable with the uniform, the badge and gun, everything reversed.
“Good. Somebody already got things started. I was worried I was going to have to beat some fucking sense into your white-trash brain all by myself.”
After a quick glance at the blood-soaked gauze, Theo tossed it in the trash and grabbed a clean pad.
“Give me that.” Cart grabbed his hair, turning him, and snatched the gauze.
“Ow,” Theo said mildly, tossing his head to try to loosen Cart’s grip.
If anything, Cart pulled harder. His fingers clamped the gauze down around Theo’s lip. “What the fuck do you know about getting hurt? What the fuck do you know about anything?” He yanked on Theo’s hair again. “You stupid redneck motherfucker. I don’t even know you. Do you realize that? I have no idea who you are. Are you just some pencil-dicked pillbilly so desperate for cash that you’ll break into somebody’s house to pay for your next fix?”
With the gauze in his mouth, Theo couldn’t answer.
“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Cart said. “Don’t spin me horseshit about how you’re not using anymore. I am a stupid son of a bitch, but I am not that stupid, and I’m tired of you treating me like I am.” On the last word, Cart released Theo’s hair. He peeled the gauze away with surprising gentleness, and only a few red spots marked it.
“I wasn’t there to steal anything.”
“Jesus Christ, that’s great fucking news. So you broke into that house for shits and giggles with your boy toy?”
“Don’t call him that.”
Cart’s hand cracked against Theo’s bare chest. The slap only stung for an instant, and then the sensation was of tremendous heat. Theo glanced down, unable to believe what had just happened. When he looked up, Cart was crying.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cart said. “What the fuck is going on? Do you know what the last two days have been like for me? I couldn’t see you, couldn’t talk to you, couldn’t think straight. Had no idea how bad things might be. Do you know the kind of hell that is?”