This Is a Dark Ride (20 page)

“Please Brody… It’s been too long,” Sam said.

Torturously slowly, Brody slid the head of his cock along the crease of Sam’s crack. Brody gave a nudge, and the head of his cock pierced that sweet, tight ass. Unlike what he’d done last night with Angel, Brody didn’t stop when the head was in, but instead continued the slow, steady thrust forward. He paused only when his shaft was completely buried, his balls pressed to the back of Sam’s.

“Oh Brody…please. Yes.”

Brody found his rhythm quickly. The steady in-and-out motion soon had them both grunting every time Sam pushed back.

Brody laid his hands on Sam’s shoulders and began pushing him down hard on Angel. He fucked Sam in earnest. Took him the way he used to, humping wildly. It was raw and it was primal. Brody’s jaw dropped open, and he panted through his mouth, his cock all wrapped up in the warm heaven that was his Sam.

Flashes of light behind his eyes warned Brody that the end was near. His balls pulled up, and his breathing grew ragged.

Sam moved more quickly now, and the feverish cries from the woman beneath him pushed Brody to the edge.

Suddenly Sam’s body stiffened, and a keening cry echoed off the walls. Brody gave one last mighty thrust and began to spill. Sam’s warmth and heat combined to create a cocoon from which he never wanted to emerge. Pleasure thrummed through Brody, sparkling brighter than the pharmacy lights. A long, low groan escaped from his throat. It was the sound of pure and utter completeness.

He rested his chin on the back of Sam’s neck and gazed down at Angel. Her eyes were closed, dark lashes fanned out over her pale cheeks, her mouth slightly parted. Had he been able to, he would have liked to kiss that pretty mouth. He nuzzled against the back of Sam’s head, breathing in the faint scent of Sam’s coconut-scented shampoo.

Brody laid his hands on Sam’s shoulders and rubbed them, rewarded with Sam’s contented sigh, a sound he could never tire of hearing. Maybe, just maybe, despite all the ugliness and the problems of life, there was a way that things would be
okay
. Maybe the three of them could grab a fistful of happiness and keep it.

A loud thumping at the front door startled him.

Varnes’s voice was muffled as he yelled from the hallway into the apartment.

“Redlinger? Hey? Redlinger? You in there? This is important!”

Brody sighed, and reluctantly he pulled away from Sam.

The rent was paid and they hadn’t been playing loud music, so he couldn’t see what Varnes would have to complain about. “I’m coming!”

“Again?” Sam said with a broad smile. Brody laughed, happy to see a rare moment when Sam looked truly happy. He was still smiling when, clad only in a pair of boxers, he flung the apartment door open.

Brody’s smile faded immediately. Sure, Varnes was a prick, but he didn’t wear his standard prickish face. Something was wrong.

Brody waited. Had Mueller been complaining? Had she said Brody had harassed her or insulted her?

“Hey… sorry to have to…just show up like this. Um…” Varnes swallowed hard. Nothing about his presence right now seemed routine. “I got a call for you at the office earlier. I took the number. Ruth…Ruth Ann? Your aunt or something?” Varnes thrust his hand out, holding a neon-pink sticky note square.

Brody nodded, already not liking anything about this. Varnes was never this nice, and Aunt Ruthie wouldn’t just call to say hello. His mom hadn’t been doing well the last time he’d spoken to her, and his stomach twisted. A bad taste rose in his mouth, and he swallowed hard.

“Yeah. My aunt.” Brody took the paper. He already knew Aunt Ruthie’s number; he just hadn’t called it in a while. Hadn’t called his mom either, not since before Christmas. Thanksgiving, maybe? He had made plans in his mind to visit for the holidays, but those mental plans had never translated into the real thing.

Varnes dug around in his pants pocket and took out a cell phone. “Maybe you should call her.” Varnes held the phone out toward Brody.

Brody eyed the phone, then looked back up at Varnes’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t really want to be the one to tell you,” Varnes said.

Brody tightened his fingers around the phone. Varnes had pretty much just confirmed what he already suspected. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” He was vaguely aware of Krieger winding though his ankles and Sam’s comforting hand on his shoulder.

Varnes looked down at the floor and cleared his throat. “Look, man, I remember what it was like, losing my mom. I’m really sorry.”

Chapter Ten

“He’s been gone quite a while,” Angel said, glancing at the clock. Brody had left early to “
take care of some things
,” and she was growing more worried.

“He needs some time, to figure out what to do…to work through his feelings,” Sam said. He didn’t sound very convincing. She knew he was every bit as concerned about what Brody was going to do now as she was.

Sam was acting strange too. Something inside of him was different. He seemed angry. Not with her or with Brody, but just in general.

“You don’t think maybe he’s going to…” They were both thinking the same thing anyway—why say it? It wasn’t as if talking about it would do any good. If Brody wanted to get high, he was going to do it.

“He’s not,” Sam said quickly.

She poked at a piece of pasta on her plate. “He said he’d be home for dinner.”

“He’ll be home—maybe not for dinner, but he’ll be home.” Sam reached across the small table and took her hand. “He’ll be home, and everything will work out somehow.”

The lock on the door clicked as Brody let himself in. There were dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes. His unshaven face was gaunt and pale.

Angel drew in a breath and waited. Given his disheveled appearance, for a moment or two she thought the worst. Then she looked harder. There was pain in his eyes. There was also clarity. He wasn’t high; he was just a man suffering a great loss.

He fumbled with two large bags as he tossed his keys onto the coffee table. The door was left ajar behind him.

No one spoke, but Angel felt the moment. It cut into her, how fragile life was, how short-lived life and joy can be. Brody’s eyes broadcasted sadness.

Sam broke the silence first, his voice nervous and trembling. “You all right, Brody?”

Brody was expressionless. “I’m fine. Did you think I was out partying? Out getting fucked-up?” He set the bags on the sofa, and he tried to smile despite his obvious pain. “You did, didn’t you?”

Sam shook his head at the same time Angel did.

“Well, I didn’t. Guess that’s all that matters to you.”

“That’s not all that matters to us!” Sam said.

“I have to go home,” Brody said. “I don’t know for how long, but I have to go.” He looked over at the table. “I’d like it if you’d come with me. Both of you.”

“I could probably get some time off work,” Sam said, “but only a couple of days.”

“You don’t even like that job,” Brody said. “Just leave it. Tell them you quit. You’re done.”

“Then what? We’ll be worse off than we are now.”

“How’s that possible? There are other jobs. We can all start over.”

Sam laughed wryly. “Really? You’re going to start talking about getting a job again, Brody?”

Brody sighed. “I realize I said a lot of things I never followed through with, but I’m trying, Sam. My aunt is there by herself. Now she’s stuck with Mom’s farm. I don’t know what she’s going to do. Sell it, I guess. I need to at least help her take care of things until she can work something out.”

“I want to go,” Angel said. Honestly the idea was exciting. It offered a chance she didn’t have here. A place to reinvent Angel Molchene. A place where people wouldn’t look at her and recall her standing on the corner turning tricks. Sam was frowning. Why couldn’t he be happy?

“I think it would be a good thing,” she said to him. “Don’t you ever think about a fresh start?”

“Yeah, and then what?” Sam said. “Somebody has to be the grown-up here. Somebody has to think about things logically. We aren’t homeless. Why would we want to be? What are we going to do once she sells the place?”

“Whatever we want. Maybe we’ll end up wanting to find a place out there. It’s a nice little town.” Brody ran his hand over the top of the antique oak piano, his fingers leaving trails in the dust.

“There’s some people on their way to pick this up,” he said, dipping his finger in the dust and drawing a heart on the wood.

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”

“I sold it. We need gas money, and there were a couple of things I wanted to buy. Besides, it’ll be a bitch to move again. I think it’s time to let it go. Haven’t you ever seen the cartoons where they’re moving pianos? They’re always hoisting them up. They always fall. Why don’t they just carry them?” Brody ran his hand over the keys. “Remember when we brought this up all those steps? We had Benny and Monk…all those other guys helping. Damn, this old girl is heavy.” He shook his head. “It was time to let it go.”

“But the piano? We always need money, Brody. You shouldn’t have sold it.”

“I can still play,” Brody said. “I can play any piano. It wasn’t like this one made me any better. When I started taking lessons, my mom bought me an old upright at a used furniture store. I think it was twenty dollars. It used to belong to a school or a church. It had seen a lot of use. She paid to have it tuned. I’ll tell you what, that piano made the most beautiful music.”

Brody picked up one of the bags and handed it to Sam. “There’s your new coat. The one you should have had last winter.”

Angel’s heart ached at the expression on Sam’s face.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I did have to. I’m the reason you didn’t already have it. I owe you…not just that. I owe you my life. You stayed with me through shit that would have driven anyone else away.”

“What’s in the other bag?” Sam asked.

“I promised this girl I met that I’d get her an electric blanket. A purple one.”

Tears blurred her vision as Brody handed her the bag. She barely remembered the promise, recalling instead the way she’d felt that night. Brody had made her feel safe and cared for. Angel still felt that way with Brody, and with Sam. That feeling was warmer than an electric blanket could ever be.

A crew of men wearing blue shirts appeared in the doorway. A moving company logo was printed in white on the front of their shirts.

“Guess it’s time,” Brody said.

“We brought a skid board and a piano dolly,” a huge, balding man said. “We’ll have it out of here in no time.”

“If you don’t mind waiting a minute, I’d like to play a song before you take it?” Brody said.

The men looked at each other and shrugged. “Sure…no harm in that, I guess.”

Brody sat down at the bench and stared at the keys for a few moments. There were no open music books, so whatever he was going to play would be from memory.

Angel expected a Doors song, and when Brody began to play, she watched in fascination as he closed his eyes. His face was serene, his lips parted softly. She stared at him, transfixed at how angelic he appeared.

His long fingers moved effortlessly over the keys. Hands that two weeks ago had shaken uncontrollably now flawlessly played an old song that she couldn’t recall until Brody sang a few of the lyrics.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do. My gift is my song, and this one’s for you…”

Chapter Eleven

Sam looked up the stone walkway, uncertain exactly what he should do. He had been invited here, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was trespassing in a world where he didn’t belong.

Brody was already up on a huge wraparound porch, hugging a tiny, frail-looking lady with a long gray braid.

“Aren’t you getting out?” Angel opened the back passenger door and removed some of their things. The luggage was several black trash bags, stuffed full of clothes that had been packed in a hurry.

The reality of this situation dawned on him.

I quit my job to come here. What if something happened?

While it had felt wonderful to tell the foreman he was done with the warehouse, the idea of being unemployed made him nervous. This wasn’t like Chalpin; this was small-town USA. People here would want to know about them. People here weren’t going to overlook them.

Well, they’d stay and get through this, and then maybe they could move on. A fresh start in a brand-new town. It could be just the thing they all needed. He fingered the key to the old apartment in his pocket. He’d held on to it, using the excuse that he wanted to go back next week and get the place cleaned up before he turned it in to Varnes so that possibly they would get their security deposit back. That wasn’t completely true. There was a lot of unfinished business back in Chalpin.

Sam took a deep breath. Why couldn’t he stay here? Live here. Be happy.

Quit worrying. Let life happen. Brody’s words echoed through his head.
Just let go. It’s time to live
.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He stalled by slowly removing the car keys from the ignition and fumbling them into the pocket on his flannel shirt.

He took the plastic carrier that housed Krieger out of the back of the car and looked though the wire door. A single indignant eye met his gaze. Krieger seemed just as unhappy about being here as Sam was.

Sam walked up the icy path slowly, mostly looking at the ground, the cat wailing in the carrier like a police siren.

“Sam? You must be Sam! Why, I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like we’ve already met! I’m happy you’re here.”

Brody’s aunt’s voice sounded sincere. Sam met her gaze. Damn, he would be able to tell if he passed her on the street that she was related to Brody. Her brown eyes sparkled with the same light as Brody’s did, and her smile crinkled in all the same places.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Sam said.

“Pshhh! What’s with this ma’am business? I’m Ruth Ann. Remember that!”

“Yes, ma’am…I mean Ruth Ann.” Brody’s aunt was very kind. Sam felt an eerie sense of welcome and belonging here. Ruth Ann’s easygoing personality was so much like the Brody he had once known, the Brody who more and more, day by day, was coming back into his life.