Streamline (10 page)

Just as Cold Sadist had used secret information against his brother, Leo realized his father would use his drug addiction to control and manipulate him the rest of his life. If Leo tried to fight going to the Academy, he imagined CS would tell other college coaches about the Oxy. If Leo didn’t toe the line in the military, CS would tell his superiors about his drug history and ruin any chance at a successful career. His life was over.

Leo popped the cap off the bottle with his thumb and slowly poured its contents into his palm, mesmerized by the cascading shower of little white pills.

Oxycontin had been both his friend and his enemy. It soothed him when he was troubled. It didn’t yell at him or hit him when he screwed up. But it had also distanced him from others, forcing him to keep secrets and leaving him out of control. And it made him feel sick when he couldn’t get it.

Yes, both his friend and his enemy. And now it would end his life.

Trapped somewhere between numbness and despair, Leo barely registered his own sobs. As he stared at the mountain of pills in his sweaty palm, a tear fell from his eye and splashed onto one of his fingers.
Why does my father hate me so much?

It had been different once.

Leo remembered hundreds of childhood car rides to and from swim practices and meets in his father’s prized red BMW. His father used to ask endless questions about Leo’s training and race strategy.

And though he knew much more about basketball than swimming, he’d applied his engineering skills to studying the hydrodynamics of stroke technique, and he and Leo had spent hours discussing and experimenting with minute changes in hand pitch, body roll, or ankle movement. Leo swam faster than ever before, and his father had beamed with pride.

About the time Leo turned twelve, his father abruptly sold the BMW and replaced it with a junky Chevrolet. Leo asked about the change, and his father told him German cars sucked and everyone should buy American. Then he changed the subject. Still confused, Leo asked Jason about it one day.

“Why’d Dad get rid of the Beamer?”

“You really don’t know?”

Leo shook his head. At seventeen, Jason seemed to know everything.

“We’re broke now ’cause of Mom’s medical bills. Dad had to choose between sel ing his car or forcing you to quit swimming. Your club’s really expensive, you know. Anything for your
glorious
swim career,” Jason added with a sneer.

Leo had been so grateful for his father’s quiet sacrifice. But where had that man gone? The man who’d once had trouble control ing his anger had now arrived at a place where his anger controlled him.

Seething hostility had worked into Cobra Snake like a slithering python, strangling any kindness or vulnerability.

Leo was tired of trying to charm the vicious snake to prevent it from striking. Its venom had seeped into his soul, infecting him with shame and hopelessness.

He cried harder now. What would his funeral be like? Would CS cry? Guilt gripped Leo when he visualized his mother sobbing, just as she’d done minutes ago, anguished that she couldn’t protect him.

His mom couldn’t stop the physical pain his father rained down on him, and she couldn’t heal his self-doubt and misery either.

Leo studied the pil s in his hand, counting them in a silent chant.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty
…a nice, even number. He’d almost be thirty by the time he could escape the Navy’s clutches, and he’d heard life went downhill from there. He might as well end it now.

Then Leo thought of Audrey — her gorgeous brown eyes gazing at him, her telling him he was kind and smart and a “hottie”…her sweet, bubbly spirit infusing him with happiness…her fine mind and feisty zeal…her lean, sexy body…He remembered the first time he’d seen that exquisite body, before they’d even started dating.

Two years ago, when Leo was a sophomore, he’d finally grown taller and more muscular. His friends told him he’d drawn the attention of several girls, yet he was oblivious to their stares. Consumed by school, swimming, and trying to please his father, he hadn’t even considered dating.

It had been a hot September evening, and the swim team had just finished a grueling round of running the stadium stairs. Leo then added an additional half-hour of stair climbing for himself, knowing his father would expect that extra effort. As he emerged from the showers and toweled off in the empty locker room, he heard giggles in the pool.

Once dressed, Leo went to investigate the sound. The pool gates were locked, but all the swimmers knew the security code for those occasional mornings when Matt overslept. Leo heard giggles again.

He just had to find out what was so fun in there.

Quietly keying the code, Leo entered and stayed in the shadows of the pool deck as dusk encroached. Smack in the middle of the pool were Audrey Rose and Elaine Ferris, two sophomores on the girls team. They snorted with laughter as they attempted some synchronized swimming moves. Audrey’s graceful arm flared over her head as she kept her body afloat with furious kicking.

Elaine applauded. “Brah-
vo
,” she mocked.

When Audrey floated on her back and extended her lean leg in the air, Leo had gasped. Audrey was naked! Skinny dipping! He caught a glimpse of two perfect breasts: perky, curvy mounds he just had to caress. He suddenly saw the daughter of his father’s subordinate in a whole new light.

Elaine started. “Who’s there?”

Not wanting to be a creepy stalker, Leo had immediately stepped out of the shadows, his eyes alight with mischief. “I’m just enjoying the show, ladies.”

Audrey’s mouth dropped open. “Leo Scott!” She turned to Elaine, and they whispered. “Turn around, Leo!” Audrey ordered.

He gave a little mock salute and performed a sharp about face.

He heard vigorous splashing as Audrey and Elaine swam to the other side of the pool, then a rush of water as they pulled themselves out.

“Don’t peek!” Audrey shouted.

Leo put his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels and reveling in every second of her embarrassment.

When he heard the patter of feet toward the women’s locker room, Leo turned around. “Audrey?”

She halted, nervously tightening her towel around her chest.

“What?”

Leo came as close as he dared, lest Audrey dart away like a gazelle from a hunter. He flashed a warm smile and watched her face flush.

“I judged your routine, and I give you a nine.”

It took her only a second to recover. “Only a nine?” She pouted.

“What would I have to do to get a ten?”

“You need to get higher out of the water.” Leo cleared his throat.

“You know, so the judge can get a better view of your, ah, your, your beautiful smile.”

“Is that right?” Audrey scanned the deck for Elaine, who’d walked over to the other side of the pool and now seemed busy organizing the kickboards and pull buoys. “Maybe you could show me sometime?” Leo laughed. “I’d like that.” They stared awkwardly for a moment, and Audrey shivered in the humid breeze. Fearing she was about to leave, Leo blurted, “Well, I gave you my number. How about you give me yours?”

Audrey narrowed her eyes and smiled. “The only way you get my number is if you change yours to a ten.”

“Done.” Leo nodded decisively. “You were absolutely perfect.” Even now he smiled as he remembered calling Audrey that very night, and many nights thereafter.

Looking out into the woods, Leo’s smile vanished. Salty tears stung the cut on his lip, and he realized he’d been clutching the pills.

He slowly relaxed his grip.

Audrey…he had to see Audrey. He couldn’t kill himself without at least saying goodbye. Leo located the pil bottle and dumped them back in, listening to the clink as each pill found its home.

Then he rose, dusted leaves off his jeans, and trekked to Audrey’s house.

The amber liquid scorched his throat as he knocked back his third shot of scotch. It had been too long since he’d felt that burn light his insides on fire. Too long.

Navy Blue was Jason’s old stomping ground, and the bar hadn’t changed much in four years — other than the heightened security.

He’d been surprised when the bouncer insisted on checking his ID at the door. As a teenager he’d come in no questions asked, even though they’d surely known he was Commander Scott’s son.

Now it appeared nobody recognized him — not that the bar was particularly full in the middle of the afternoon. His black hair had grown out from its crew cut, and his well-defined biceps belied the lean, underdeveloped seventeen-year-old he’d been. Jason sat at the bar, ruing the disaster this day had become.

He and his mother had been full of optimism as they drove to Still Waters, buoyed by the reports of Leo’s speedy detox. When he’d visited the day before, Jason had actually caught a glimpse of the little brother he remembered. But as they pulled up to the treatment center, they saw panic on Marcus’s face. Before he’d even finished his first sentence, Jason and his mom were back in the car and peeling out of the lot in a mad dash home.

But they were too late.

Jason couldn’t escape the image of Leo splayed out unconscious on the study carpet, blood oozing from a gash on his forehead. As his mother wept, Jason glared at his father, but instead of the smug satisfaction he expected, he saw a flash of regret, followed by surprise.

“What are
you
doing here?” CS had asked scornfully before brushing past Jason into the family room. Things had gone to hell after that.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and Jason pulled it out to glance at the caller ID.
Crap
. His sponsor.

Jason knew he should answer and stop this relapse immediately, but didn’t. His sponsor had dril ed into his head that his extreme personality could get him into trouble. One drink didn’t have to turn into twenty. Things weren’t always black or white. But Jason didn’t want to stop. He welcomed the contradictory sensation of stimulation and relaxation the alcohol offered like an old friend.

The door swung open, and Jason was startled to see Marcus sidle up to the bar. He sat on a stool a few seats down and nodded to the bartender, who raised his eyebrows before reaching for the bottle of vodka.

Glancing over, Marcus practically fell off his chair when he saw Jason staring at him. A look of silent understanding passed between them. They weren’t supposed to be here. They were ashamed to be caught relapsing. They had failed to protect a certain teenage boy.

Jason acted swiftly. He placed some money on the bar and reached Marcus just as the bartender was about to fill the shot glass. “Don’t do this, Marcus. Leo needs us. Let’s not both mess up at once.” Marcus looked at Jason and turned to stare at the glass. “Some role model I am, huh?”

“I could say the same for myself,” Jason scoffed. “C’mon, you can still be a role model today. I’ve already lost that chance.” After a moment Marcus stood, threw a ten on the bar, and walked out into the still-bright afternoon with Jason. There was an awkward silence as they leaned back on Marcus’s car, hands stuffed in their pockets.

“It didn’t go well at home, did it?” Marcus asked.

Unsure how much to disclose, Jason just sighed. “Nope.”

“So your father abused you too, then?”

Jason looked away, feeling his chest tighten with an unexpected ache. “Listen, it won’t help to make a report. Believe me, I’ve already tried.”

“I’m mandated by law to make a report, Jason.”

“Then you’ll hurt my brother even more, because my dad will make him pay. Leo turns eighteen in four months — then he can get away from Crusty Stick-up-his-butt.”

“Just like you’ve gotten away, hmm?”

“I live three thousand miles away, and I still can’t escape that man,” Jason said. “He haunts me. He just…he used to be different.

My family used to be different. Now it’s FUBAR.” Marcus chuckled. “Yeah, I know all about families putting the ‘fun’ in dysfunction. Do you, uh, do you need a place to stay tonight?”

“That’d be great, actually. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can bump up my return flight to Seattle. I only make things worse by being here.” Marcus moved around to the driver’s side door and unlocked the car.

“Okay if I call my sponsor?” Jason asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

Marcus nodded. “We’ll hit a meeting on the way home.”

“Time to face the music,” Jason said. He tapped his fingers on the dashboard while holding the phone to his ear. What was taking his sponsor so long?

When he heard the familiar voice, Jason cleared his throat. “Walt, it’s Jason.”

“Jason Scott!” Walt boomed. “Calling me all the way from Florida?

What’s up?”

“Uh, my blood-alcohol level?”

“You don’t sound drunk.”

“Yeah, I think I had three shots. Good thing a friend walked in at just the right moment, and we got out of there.” Jason gave Marcus a smile.

“Sounds like you’re in a car. You’re not driving, are you?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. I want you to get to an AA meeting ASAP.”

“We’re on our way.”

“I’m not happy, but I’m a little impressed,” Walt said with a smile in his voice. “You’re learning from past mistakes and getting back on track faster. So what was it this time?” Jason paused. “The reunion didn’t go so hot with my dad.” Glancing over at Marcus in the driver’s seat, Jason gave the edited version. “I shoved him, and we got into it. He, uh, he pretty much beat the crap out of me. Then he made the old threat of turning me in to the police if I stayed, so I left.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised you relapsed.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Thanks so much for the support.”

“Jason,” Walt’s voice rose with reproach. “What I
mean
is you can’t stay clean till you come clean.”

“Huh?”

“Until you turn yourself in for your crime.” There it was: surrender. He’d avoided that idea just like he’d shunned wearing a belt because holding one reminded him of his father.

“Jason, what step are you working right now?” Walt asked after a long silence.

“You know I’m on number nine, Walt. Making amends to people I’ve hurt.”