Shine - Lauren Myracle [43]
I took in what I could, careful not to touch anything. But much as I’d hoped for an easy answer, there was no manila folder labeled USERS. No list of names by the phone, which was plugged into the wall and connected to an answering machine.
With my toe, I nudged open the bathroom door. I recoiled from the odor, then tried again, breathing shallowly. There was a pee-crusted toilet with dark stains rimming the bowl. The bathtub was clearly never used for taking baths, as it was filled with funnels, coffee filters, and other items I assumed were for cooking up meth. A pair of rubber gloves lay over the rim of the sink, and those rubber gloves skeeved me out more than anything.
I used my foot to flush the toilet so that it would seem like I’d peed. I was surprised the septic system worked. Beneath the roar of rushing water, I heard Wally’s bedroom telephone ring. Just once, then a beep. Then someone leaving a message. I couldn’t make out the words.
I stepped back into the bedroom and listened for movement. Had Wally heard the phone ring? Was he heading this way?
A red light blinked on the answering machine. My heart matched its rhythm as I pushed the PLAY button. A man’s voice was barely discernible, and I squatted by the speaker.
“—so, yeah, still waiting for my hookup,” I heard. “You sure it’s on the way?”
I recognized the voice, but I couldn’t place it.
“‘Cause I’m crashing hard, man,” Wally’s customer continued. “But it’s gonna be the good stuff, right? None of that dishwater crank?” He laughed a skittering laugh. “Ah, now, I’m messing with ya. I know you’ll take care of me . . .”
“Cat, come on,” Christian called.
“. . . even if it kills me,” the guy on the phone was saying. And God forgive me, I want it to. I gotta get back with Danielle and my sweet little Melody, see?”
My breath caught. I knew Danielle and Melody, or I did before they died.
“Only problem is, Danielle and my sweet Melody are up in heaven, singing with the angels. They are angels. But when I die, I know I’m going straight to—“
“Cat,” Christian said sharply. I heard footsteps. He was coming down the hall for me. I crossed the bedroom in three long strides and closed the door behind me.
“I’m coming. Jeez,” I said. I kept up a stream of words the whole way out, babbling to hide my shock.
From the perspective of gaining information, the visit to Wally’s was pretty much a bust. All I learned was that Wally seemed too thin and feeble to go after a guy like Patrick with a baseball bat, and also that Ridings McAllister, the man with the roadside produce stand, was a user. Danielle was Ridings’s wife, now in heaven, and sweet Melody was their baby girl, dead before her first birthday.
Maybe that’s why Ridings needed a hookup. Maybe he needed it to stay awake when he’d rather fall into an endless sleep.
WHEN I WAS TEN, I CAUGHT MY BROTHER DROPPING his pants in front of the mirror on Aunt Tildy’s bureau. It was summer, and I wanted a piece of ice to suck on, so I went into the house to get one. I must have entered on silent mice feet, and that was why Christian didn’t hear me. I didn’t set out to spy on him, but I did, and afterward, I felt ashamed. He was the one who didn’t think to close Aunt Tildy’s bedroom door, but I should have tiptoed away when I saw what he was doing.
He never did know, though. I didn’t laugh or snicker or use it against him, because back then, we were tight. Plus, I was just . . . gosh. Shocked, I suppose. My brother’s penis was no longer soft and pink. It was bigger, and it jutted out from his body in a way that confused me. I shrank behind the door frame, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. That thatch of dark hair—when did he get that?
We used to take baths together, turning Aunt Tildy’s old shampoo bottles into squirt toys and underwater missiles. The first time Christian farted in the bath water, it surprised us both. The next time, he did it on purpose. He caught the bubbles in his