Equilibrium (Marauders #4.5) (5 page)

He’d noticed things in his room. Roach really didn’t like mess, he kept things neat, and he didn’t have a lot of stuff, so when things were moved around it wasn’t something he missed. He’d known it was Eliza from the very beginning. He hadn’t bought her act for a second, her big blue eyes and wide smiles, and he couldn’t fucking believe they were all swallowing that shit down—hook, line, and sinker. When she, from out of nowhere, wanted a job to clean the clubhouse he’d thought it was a bit fishy. So when things all of a sudden were no longer in their place, it was obvious what was going on. He assumed it was the only way for her to get hold of drugs without her father finding out.

Maybe he should’ve mentioned it to Brick, but they weren’t that close, and you had to be really fucking close to a man to tell him his daughter was making a fool out of him. Actually, he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. If he didn’t mention it, no one would ever know that he’d known. But once he’d started seeing it, it was impossible to stop seeing it. Like how she was stoned or tripping most of the time, that she wasn’t eating, and how her smiles died as soon as she didn’t think anyone was watching. As annoying as she was, she was in trouble, and apparently no one else was noticing it.

He’d avoided her until he heard the door opening to his room, and realized it was her, and then he’d caught her in the act. Her behavior had managed to piss him off again, and he probably should’ve handled it a little… smoother. At the same time, maybe not. Maybe someone needed to rub her the wrong way.

Because she didn’t yell at him when she stood in front of him. Instead she stood silent for a while, just eyeing him, and finally spoke up.

“Hi,” she said. “Can I sit?” she asked with a nod towards the bench he was sitting on.

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled and sat down next to him.

That was a surprise. He looked at her, but she was staring at her shoes. Pink ones today, he noted. And they had a pretty little bow on them, too.

“So what are you on today, Princess?”

“Only Prazosin,” she answered, and that was when he knew for sure he’d been wrong. She was going to talk to him, and she wasn’t going to lie. She’d be straight.

That could mean a whole bunch of problems for him. Like a ripped-off face. He kept talking to her anyway, and pulled his smokes out of his pocket.

“What’s Prazosin?” He’d heard of a lot of drugs, tried most of them, too, but not that one.

“For anxiety, PTSD, and nightmares. Legal. You know, for being broken.” She took the cigarette he was handing her. “You were an asshole.”

“I know.”

“But you didn’t tell Dad.”

“Told you I wouldn’t.”

“People say a lot of shit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he said with a smile. “For the record, I don’t think you’re broken. I think you’re knocked off course, but not broken. I think you’ve got a great shot at getting back on track.”

“Why?”

“You’re strong, and even if you took a detour, you’re fighting.”

“I’m not sure I am.”

“Sure you are. You’re sitting right here, dealing with it.”

“I’m not sure… that I want to, like, talk about
that
, what happened, with you.”

“Then don’t. Talk about something else. Hang out with me for a spell, or just ask me questions.”

“Okay. I can do that.” She took a deep breath. “What’s your name? Your real name.”

“Samuel Walsh.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

She hesitated, but then she kept going. “How did you know? All those things you said to me, how did you know that about me?”

“You’re not the only who’s been knocked off course.”

“Were you far off course?”

“Miles off and going in the wrong direction.”

She nodded and then finally looked at him.

“So… are there, like, rules for this?”

“No, I’m not a shrink,” he laughed. “Just don’t fucking lie. I don’t like that. And I’m of no use to you if you do. If you don’t want to tell me, just say that. If you don’t want to talk, say that, too. I won’t be offended.”

“Okay,” she said. “Can you tell me why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you wanna help me, and don’t lie to me. I know you don’t even like me that much—you made that pretty clear.”

Yeah, the things he’d said to her had pretty much made it clear to her what he thought about her, which made it all the more surprising that she’d taken him up on his offer. Surprising but encouraging. She wanted this because she thought it could make a difference.

“I owe someone a favor.”

“Someone I know?”

“No, you don’t. She was my sister,” he answered. Eliza sat quietly next to him. “You can ask whatever you want. If I don’t want to tell you, I’ll let you know.”

“Did she die? You said
was
.”

“Yes. She died.”

He’d been thinking a lot about Natalie lately, and mostly because of Eliza. That could be why she annoyed him so much. He knew it wasn’t really fair to think that Eliza should be able to cope better than Natalie had, but he couldn’t help it. It could also be that he felt that he had to try to help Eliza, since he hadn’t been of much use to Nat.

“So why were you an asshole?”

“Why are you here?” he asked instead of answering her question.

“Maybe because you were an asshole?”

“Precisely.”

“I’m not sure you’re making sense,” she said with a small laugh. “I
want
to talk to you because you’re an asshole?”

“No, because you’re fed up with people pretending around you. Which is normal, by the way. People do that when they don’t know how to handle someone. Try not to blame them too much, but keep in mind that it’s not your fault. And because you’re fed up with people who are scared of the shit you’re bottling up inside.”

She turned her head and looked at him, and then she smiled. This time it was real. Roach knew it, because it looked like it had when they talked about Transmetropolitan, and that had been a real smile, too. He’d gotten to her. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing, but he had. It was quite possible Brick would have his balls for this if he took it the wrong way.

“Think you can stop calling me Princess?” she asked.

“I’ve seen your bed, that’s a princess’ bed,” he laughed, but something about her changed, just slightly. “What?”

“I like my bed. It’s kind of my own universe when I close the curtains.”

Everyone needed a place where they felt safe. It was a vital part in every person’s life. It could be a room, a house, a bed, or just a fucking area where you knew you were protected, even if it was just inside your own head. The problem was when that space was the
only
place you felt safe. Or if you didn’t have one at all.

“It’s a nice room.”

“Yeah, you said that. And that it
suited
me.”

So she hadn’t missed the sarcasm in that. “It kind of does,” he said.

“So you’re gonna keep being an asshole?”

“Do you want me to be more like your mom and dad?”

“No,” she said, but she wasn’t looking at him. “Just… Don’t be mean, and don’t
make
me talk.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” He thought of something else. “You should probably mention this to your dad. No need for details, but so he knows why we’re talking.”

“I will. Is it weird that I’m looking forward to hanging out with someone who called me a spoiled brat and thinks I’m just feeling sorry for myself?”

“A little,” he laughed. “But I think you need someone who doesn’t just tell you the things you want to hear, and I don’t think you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Not really. I just wanted you to pay attention. And I took out my own issues on you, which was shitty of me. I’m sorry about that.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Just don’t touch me. I’ll tell Dad if you do.”

“It’s got its flaws, but I like my face, so I won’t touch you. It’s not about that.”

“I didn’t think it was, but I mean, like,
at all
. Don’t touch me at all. I mean, most places are okay, but some are really not okay, and some of them are weird.”

He stared at her. “I’m not sure I followed that.”

“It’s not everywhere on my body. I mean, it’s the obvious place, but there’s some weird places that I can’t… It doesn’t matter. Just don’t.”

She started to leave, and when he laughed, she turned around.

“What?” she asked.

“That threatening thing, when you threatened with your dad. That was good.”

“Why?”

“Means you’re still fighting. Keep that up.”

She stood still, and he could see her thinking about it, and then she smiled and gave him the smallest nod. “Okay. I’ll see you, Samuel Walsh.”

“See you, Eliza Baxter.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Ask Away

~oOo~

“IF YOU JUST HOLD there, I can tighten it for you,” Brick said. The ten-year-old Eliza was sitting next to him, and she leaned over to see where he was pointing. “Just hold this.”

“I don’t know. It looks dirty. Do I have to?” She turned and looked at a stool behind them. “I can sit over there and watch you work.”

“Okay, Baby Girl,” he said with a laugh and kissed her forehead. “Go sit over there.”

“Did you do this with Mac and Mitch?” she asked once she was safely away from the dirt.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“They’re boys, you know. They don’t seem to care much about dirt.”

“I guess that’s the difference.”

“I mean, I like being here, but I don’t think I wanna fix stuff.” She picked up some bolts—clean ones. “I can tell you what I’ve been doing in school today.”

“That sounds like a good idea, honey. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

~oOo~

Brick

“Hi there, Baby Girl,” he said to Eliza when she came to sit on a toolbox close to him. “Gonna watch me work?”

“Is that okay?”

“You know it is. I like having you here.”

She’d had done that since she was a kid, usually when she was waiting for Mel to finish up in the office, and most often she talked non-stop about her day. What she’d done, who’d said what to her, who she didn’t like, and sometimes what guys she thought was cute. The mentioning of cute guys got less common when she became older, but she’d talked anyway. Since she’d been taken, she still sat there sometimes, but she wasn’t talking. Partly because there wasn’t actually much going on in her life, and partly because she wasn’t talking much anymore at all.

A couple of weeks earlier she’d spoken up, though. She’d told him that she’d been talking a little to Roach, that maybe she’d feel like talking to him some more or hanging out with him, and would Brick please not beat him up for that? He wasn’t going to beat Roach up for that, but he had still asked her why, what it was about Roach.

‘Because the ugly things in me don’t scare him.’

That was what she’d said, and for a second Brick had been trying to remember how to breathe. He didn’t think she had ugly things in her, but he knew what things she meant, and they
did
scare him. He couldn’t deny that. So, he’d told her that Roach was safe, and if she wanted to hang out with him, that was fine with Brick. He wasn’t going to beat up a guy for being what Eliza needed. Her shrink had told him she might reach out to other people, and that he should encourage it no matter who it was, as long as he didn’t think it was someone who could be dangerous for her. Roach was probably not the kind of person the shrink had in mind, but Brick was willing to give him a shot. He’d keep an eye on them, though, and if it looked like Roach was trying for something else, he’d simply kill him and hide the body.

Although, if Roach’s ‘uncanny survival instincts’ were a real thing, the kid would know better than to try to take advantage of Eliza.

They’d been told that women seeking comfort in men—in a non-sexual way, the shrink had added when she’d noticed the look on Brick’s face—wasn’t uncommon. It also wasn’t uncommon that this would be men whom they hadn’t been close to before. If that happened, she’d said that the person in question could come and talk to her. He’d mentioned that to Roach, but the look in Roach’s eyes made it pretty clear that Brick should just forget about it. According to Ahab, Roach’d had enough of shrinks and probably knew whatever she would tell him anyway.

Brick might have known it was likely that Eliza would turn to others, but it still hurt. They’d been close, maybe not as close as Bear was to Vi, but still more than able to talk. Even if they still talked, there was a desert of shit between them because of what had happened, and it stopped her from telling him things, and him from seeing things. He just couldn’t. He was scared he wouldn’t be able to see anything else if he did.

When they’d gone in to get Eliza from where she’d been held, Bull had suggested it might be better if Brick didn’t come with them. He’d told Bull to get the fuck out of his way. What had been done to Eliza was his fault, so he should fucking see it. Even if he sometimes wished he’d listened to Bull, he still believed it had been the right thing to do.

He smiled when Eliza picked up a handful of bolts and started to tip them from one hand to another. There were still those small signs now and then, which made him believe that at her core, she was still herself.

“What’s going on?” he asked her.

“Not much. I’ve been at the shrink’s today. It was pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup. And Billie is taking me to the range tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“What’s going on with you?” she asked.

“Me?!” He sat up. He couldn’t remember when she’d last ask him that. “The usual crap. You know.”

“Places to be and people to beat up?” she asked with a smile. And that was a real fucking smile, no matter what Mel thought.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Something like that.”

“I’ve been thinking about something,” she said. “You haven’t taken Mom out on a date in a while. Think she’d like that. I can stay with Billie or Vi, or something, if you don’t want to leave me alone.”

“No. I’m fine with you being alone, as long as you are.”

“Not sure Mom is,” Eliza smiled. “But you should take her out. I could find a fancy place for you to take her.”

“Come here,” he said and motioned for her to give him a hug. She dropped the bolts and came to sit on his lap. “Find a fancy place and I’ll take her to it.”

“Good. With a spa. I could even book you a massage.”

“That’s not gonna happen, but book one for your mom.”

Eliza gave his cheek a kiss, and then she stood up and looked over to Roach.

“I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, go hang out.”

He watched as Eliza strolled over to where Roach was out on the lot. Whatever the little shit was doing, it seemed to be working. Brick still really, really wanted to beat him up. He wouldn’t do it, but he wanted to. It was just a gut reaction whenever a guy around Eliza’s age talked to her.

No matter what Mel thought, he’d known Eliza wasn’t really better before. He’d just wanted her to find her own way. At least that was what he was telling himself in hindsight. It was probably because he’d really wanted her to be better, and it was easier to believe that than accept that she was lying herself blue.

He changed his mind about wanting to beat up Roach when Eliza sat down on his toolbox and picked up a few of his bolts to play with in her hands. The bolts made him sure that whatever the kid was doing it was working.

Eliza was getting better—for real this time.

~oOo~

Eliza

When I sat down, I realized I’d simply moved from one toolbox to another, but it was kind of a comforting thought. Roach wasn’t looking at me, so I kept my focus on the bolts in my hand.

“I bought something for you,” I said.

“You bought me something?”

“Yeah.” I put down the bolts, and after wiping off my hands on my pants, I reached into my bag. “Not a big thing. I saw something and thought of you.”

Roach raised an eyebrow with a “Uh-huh?” and I knew I was blushing.

“It’s just a straw,” I said to kill off any innuendos and amused facial expressions. “So it’s not, like, a box of chocolate hearts or anything.”

“I didn’t think it was.” He reached out when I handed it to him. “You know it’s going to melt in the coffee?”

“No,” I said. “That’s why I thought of you. It’s reusable and for hot drinks, so now you don’t have to look like a prospect when you’re cleaning the bar.”

“Yeah, because having coffee with a straw is going to make me look so much cooler than if I’m caught cleaning.”

“It’s black with skulls on it.”

That made him laugh. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll get away with it. I’ll let you know.”

“Just tell them I bought it and that you’re using it to humor me,” I said with a shrug. “I think that might make them at least shut up about it.”

“I’m not so sure, but I’ll give it a try.”

“I once did a bracelet for dad with blue and pink unicorns. He wore it for two years, and no one commented on it more than once. That’s at least what he said.”

“I’m not Brick, Princess. If he tells someone to back off, they do it. If I do it, it’s more likely to be considered a challenge. Has to do with where you are in the food chain, and I’m pretty far down.” He held up the straw. “But I’ll give it a go. And thanks for thinking of me.”

“Yeah, well… It was kind of the first time we spoke… So… That’s why.”

“I get it,” he smiled. “Haven’t seen you in a couple of days. How have you been?”

I exhaled in relief that we’d left the awkward subject of me thinking about Roach. It really just had been that I saw the straw and thought of him. It wasn’t anything else, and I think he understood.

The five or six times we’d hung out, ‘How have you been?’ had been his standard opening. But as opposed to when others asked, it didn’t sound like he was scared to hear the answer, or that he expected me to give him a full psych eval update. If I just answered ‘okay,’ that was it. He accepted that, too. It really just was about hanging out and nothing else—unless I wanted it to be more.

“I’ve had nightmares. The doc wanted me to lower the dose of Minipress, but it didn’t work out, apparently.”

“Is that the p-something you’re taking?”

“Yeah. I’ve been dizzy a lot, so he thought it was best to try to lower it.”

“They make you dizzy?”

“It’s really pills for high blood pressure, so when someone who doesn’t have high blood pressure takes them, it can make you dizzy. It was fine for a while, but then it came back so… I guess he thought it was best if I tried to lower the dose.”

“Didn’t work, huh?”

“Nope.”

“How do you deal with the nightmares?”

“Deal?”

“Yeah, when you wake up, what do you do?”

“Scream?” I didn’t really understand the question.

“And when you’re done screaming?”

“I don’t know. Try to fall back asleep, I guess. Or get up and watch some TV.” Until Roach caught me red-handed, I used to go up and smoke some pot. I wasn’t doing that anymore. “Either way, it doesn’t matter much. I upped the dose the day before yesterday, so I’ll be rid of them soon again.”

“Okay.”

The thought of pot had made me think about something else, though. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“You said I wouldn’t find anything in your room. And you said that
the others
did it for a different reason than I did. You don’t have a stash?”

“No.”

He was still working on his bike, and I liked watching when others worked. When I was younger, Dad had tried to make me interested in bikes and fixing them, but I’d never cared much. I still liked watching others doing it, though. Mitch said it was because I liked to see other people work while I was sitting on my ass.

“You don’t take anything?” I asked. “At all.”

“No,” Roach answered. There was a brief pause before he added. “I don’t use drugs anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Yup. I used to stuff myself with pretty much any shit I could find. Hand me that flexhead ratchet.”

“This?”

“No, the one with the black handle.”

I found it and gave it to him. “You did a lot of drugs?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “A lot. I’m a recovering drug addict.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever met a drug addict before. At least not anyone who admitted to being one. It also made me a bit scared, considering what he’d said about me not being one, with the addition of
yet.
“But you drink. Sometimes, at least.”

“I have a beer on occasion, but I don’t drink like you mean it, and I don’t get drunk.” He switched tools again. “If I get drunk, I’m a lot more likely to think a joint is a great idea. Before I fucking know it, I’ll probably be stabbing myself with a needle trying to find a good vein.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. He talked about it so casually. Like he talked about everything about himself casually. It was hard to believe he was actually talking about himself sometimes. But it always sounded honest.

“So… are you better?” I asked.  “I mean… well?” I wasn’t sure how to put it.

“No,” he answered. “I’m an addict. I won’t ever get ‘well’.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll always be an addict.” He looked up from whatever it was he was doing. After a quick look at me—probably to make sure I was okay—he went back to work. “So staying clean is pretty much the only way to go.”

“How long…?” Once again I wasn’t sure how to ask,
what
to ask, or what would be considered rude or insensitive. But he seemed to know what it was I couldn’t say.