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“Kash disappeared months ago,” I argue. “Around the time Andrei said he welcomed his nephew home from Europe. No, something else happened. Something that put him on edge.”
“But like what?”
“Fuck if I know.” My head is pounding. It’s been pounding all night, and now it has to be almost dawn. I rearrange the glasses on the coffee table, itching to tidy up and clean and fix it all. “Some change in his plans? I hope it’s all gone wrong for him.”
“Keeping control of the casino chain doesn’t sound like anything’s gone wrong.”
“Let’s go to bed.” Sydney gets up and stretches, all pale skin and curves, and despite my exhaustion I look, and my dick starts to harden inside my jeans. “I’m beat. We can decide what to do tomorrow.”
“If there’s any chance we can nail this guy and throw him behind bars…” Nate turns off the TV and gets up, too. “Coming, West?”
“In a minute.”
He gives me a long look, then nods and departs with Sydney. I listen to the sounds of them in the bathroom, his low voice teasing her, her chime of light laughter.
It’s good to hear it, feel it in my bones that despite all the dark shit happening my people are still here, together, doing okay.
Even if I’m on the edge of a cliff, the end of my tether, and about to crash. I just fucking need… I need…
Fuck if I know what. What could help me. There’s a voice in my head whispering over and over that I need to clean and put everything in its place, wash the floor three times, clean the counters three times, do everything… and maybe then things will be okay.
I feel as if I have a drill sergeant inside my head, hollering orders, forcing me to obey. The voice had grown fainter for a while, the urge weaker, but now it’s back.
My strings tug and I get up, lurching like a drunk. I need to do this or I won’t get any rest. I’ve been struggling with it since the afternoon.
Since he showed up and reminded me of everything I’ve tried to bury, the memory that haunts me.
I grab a sponge and the cleaning product from under the kitchen sink, get on the floor and start scrubbing. So much dirt. So much filth.
How could he know?
Who else knows?
What if everyone finds out… about me. What a worthless piece of shit I am. How I fuck everything up. How everyone around me dies.
Kash… if Kash is dead, too… then that’s it. I’m done. It’s on me. If he hadn’t come to check on me, he’d be here now, alive and well.
I fucked up, fucked him up.
My hands sting from the bleach in the product. I flex my fingers, breathing out with the burn. It’s good. I need it. It lets me suck in air.
Pouring more product on the sponge, I switch hands and scrub and scrub. Paying attention to the grime between the tiles. To the corners. Under the table. Where the floor meets the wall.
I’ll leave. Go away before I fuck up Nate’s and Syd’s lives, too. they’re good for each other. They’ll be fine together. I shouldn’t have come here, with them, in the first place. I shouldn’t have—
“West. West!” Hands grab my wrists, pull my hands away from the floor. “Goddamn, man,” Nate whispers, “what the hell happened?”
I try to yank my hands away, but his grip is like fucking steel. “Fuck off.”
“No can do. Get up.”
“I can’t, Nate. I can’t…”
“Why not? What will happen if you stop?”
“Bad… bad things. Please.”
“West.” He crouches down beside me, his hands still gripping mine. “Let’s talk about this. What will happen if you don’t clean the kitchen floor tonight?”
