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“No shit.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Cyrus said.
Linc staggered to the open door of the prayer room and watched Cyrus leave with Dr. Hazel.
Darrow walked up to him, fresh beer in hand.
“Thanks, brother,” Linc said.
“Hey, we should talk. When you were out cold, something went down.”
“Huh? You find who did this to me?”
“Not yet,” Darrow said. “We’ll make this right, Linc. But your phone went off. Does the name Nova mean anything to you?”
Linc’s hand opened and he dropped the bottle, leaving glass and beer spraying all around.
Chapter Four
Waiting For Your Call
Nova paced her old bedroom which now collected shopping bags full of the most random stuff she’d ever seen in life. Including shopping bags filled with more shopping bags.
She looked at her window and the small crack was still there. Even though it happened all those years ago. She bit her bottom lip and slapped a few bags off the bed and sat on the corner.
Dust filled the air for a second, leaving Nova’s nose tingling. The room held a million memories. Now it just felt and looked ancient. Forgotten. Used up.
The normal end result of anything her mother got involved with. Whether it was a house, a job, a hobby, or men, Nova’s mother had a way of ruining even the smallest of things. Even something as simple as stopping for fast food always turned into a stress filled war-like feeling. Her mother complained that the ice was too cold. Or too watery. Or that there was too much in the cup. Trying to fuck me out of the drink I paid for? Who the fuck do you think I am? Or the food didn’t look like it did on TV or on the menu picture.
Nova thought to herself that maybe Nick got sick of it all and just took off.
Yeah… right…
Nova knew better than that.
Nick loved the attention from Mommy. She kept Nick’s favorite foods stocked and his favorite drinks in the fridge. Screw paying the gas bill, Nicky needed his fancy IPAs that cost twenty bucks for six. Nova will just pay the gas bill! No worries!
Nova took a deep breath to collect herself a little bit. As much as she wanted to snoop around her old bedroom and find out what exactly her mother was hoarding, she knew better. There was nothing good here. Nothing of value. Nothing of meaning. And chances were—based on the smell—there were probably more than a few dead, rotting animals in the mess.
The bedroom door swung open and Nova’s mother came tumbling in. Tripping over her own two feet, her aged knees hitting the floor with a hard enough thud that it shook the window.
“Where’s my boy? Where is he, Nova? You have to tell me where he is.”
“I’m taking care of it,” Nova said. She reached for her mother’s face and brushed stringy, greasy hair out of the way. “I think you should just try to get some sleep. Staying awake and drinking won’t do any good.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me my business?”
Nova cringed. Mention even in passing to pause on the bottle, and Gail Vida would go off the deep end of verbal violence that quite often turned into physical violence too. Sometimes Nova looked at her mother and really hated her. Then she felt guilty for it.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m handling it like you asked me to do,” Nova said, keeping a calm tone.
She knew better than to argue with a drunk. Especially a grieving drunk like her mother.
Gail stood up, wobbly like a newborn giraffe. Did she love her daughter? Of course she did. Did she proclaim it to the world? Did she take pride in her daughter? Not quite. Did the booze cloud her judgement and feelings? What other purpose is there to drink, right?
Gail touched the top of Nova’s head and gave her a quick pat, like a dog who sits for a treat.
“Just find my Nicky,” Gail slurred. “He’s all I’ve got.”
