Fully Automatic (Bullet) (22 page)

It wasn’t too long that he found a diner that screamed pancakes and greasy eggs.  He imagined they had a pot of coffee on all day, and that was the kind of place where he wanted to be right now.  He parked but didn’t shut off the engine.  He turned the music down and looked at Val.  “This okay?”  If it wasn’t appealing to her, he’d keep driving.

“Yeah.  It’s fine.”

The waitress was efficient.  Brad imagined she’d been doing the same job at the same diner for a good decade.  She wasn’t rude, but she wasn’t polite either—just matter of fact.  He didn’t care, though, because she was fast.  They had their menus and had barely scanned them when she brought the coffee they’d requested.  Then she took their orders and whisked their menus away.  Brad poured cream in the coffee and put a spoonful of sugar in and stirred it, trying to think of how to start the conversation.

But Val wasn’t a fucking idiot.  He needed to give her credit for that.  She was stirring cream in her coffee too when she said,
“Um…about last night…”

And then he felt bad.  He must have been doing a shitty job at hiding his feelings, and he didn’t want her to feel guilty.  He knew as well as anyone that
people couldn’t logically decide who they wanted to fall in love with.  Val was human just like he was, and the fact that she knew it had bothered him made him feel like a shitheel.  He looked up from his coffee and shook his head.  “No…Val, we don’t need to do this.”  He could be happy having her as just a friend.  He didn’t want to cause her pain by making her talk about it—Ethan inflicted enough on her as it was.

She lowered her voice, but her eyes didn’t waver.
“I’d like to.”

Goddamn.  He had to give her credit.  That was classy.  Okay…so he’d find a way to say what she needed to hear.  He couldn’t look at her, though.  Just couldn’t.  He stared into the cup of brown liquid and thought hard.  What should he say?  How should he say it?  Honesty.  Even if he couldn’t say anything
important, he knew he couldn’t lie to Val, not about something so close to his heart.  So he let out another breath and finally forced his lips to move.  “I knew what I was up against.”  He looked at her. 
This
was gonna hurt.  “I
know
where your heart is, and I chose to take that chance anyway.”  He inhaled sharply.  He couldn’t help what he was feeling, and shit…he was going to try to find a way to bury it, but for now…for now, he was raw and exposed, and he had to get it out.  “I told you…I’m a patient man.”  And that was fucking stupid—because it was turning out to be true.

She was quiet for a bit.  He could hear the other noises in the restaurant, aside from his own steady breaths in and out of his lungs.  He could hear spoons clinking against coffee cups.  He could hear some stupid elevat
or tune blaring out of a staticky speaker somewhere overhead.  He heard the two old guys behind him talking about a baseball game.  He could hear the cooks laughing in the kitchen and then one of them ringing an old-fashioned bell and yelling, “Order up.”  And, meantime, his life was passing by, and, for the moment, it felt meaningless.

Val finally spoke, and her voice was so quiet, he had to strain to hear. 
“Still…whether I’d expected what you saw or not…I’m sure you didn’t appreciate seeing that.”

She had that right, but he felt like it was better that he
had
seen it, because then she couldn’t deny it or pretend it hadn’t happened.  He had to hold down the emotion.  He was going to come across as angry or more hurt than he wanted her to know, so he had to rein it in before he spoke.  He couldn’t look at her again, so he took a sip of his coffee and let his eyes follow the cup back to the table.  “Doesn’t matter.  It was a good reminder.”

She reached across the table and touched his hand. 
“Hey…”  He looked up and didn’t pull his hand back, but it stung.  He knew she’d made her choice; she wasn’t denying it.  “You are…one of the best men I know.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?  That made him feel even more like shit, because if he really was all that to her, why did she run to Ethan?  Yeah, Brad would have done anything for the guy, loved him like a brother, but he’d be a fucking liar—and so would she—if he’d said Ethan was an upstanding citizen.  He couldn’t think of what to say and could have kissed the crusty waitress when she rescued him seconds later with their food.  How she carried it all—syrup, two plates, and a pot of coffee to refill their cups, he’d never know—but he was grateful to have the distraction.  Talking to Valerie about her irrational infatuation of Ethan had proved to be fruitless and painful, and damned if he’d ever make that mistake again.

He’d rather have a flaming hot fork shoved in his chest.  He suspected it wouldn’t hurt as badly.

Chapter Twenty-five

AS THOUGH TO
add insult to injury, Val decided she needed to talk to Brad
about
Ethan on the ride back to the motel.  It was as if she were trying to find new ways to torment him.  “So what’s Ethan taking, Brad?  Do you know?”

Oh, God.  Why?  But he cared about both Ethan and Valerie.  If she was kind, she’d let it drop.  “Hmm…what?”

No such luck.  “Come on, Brad.  I’m not stupid.  What’s Ethan been on lately?”

She was going to make him talk about it.  Maybe he could discourage her.  So he shook his head and said, “You really don’t wanna know.”

“Yeah, actually, I really
do
.”

God, she was being stubborn.  He pulled the van into the motel parking lot.  After he parked and shut off the engine, he turned to face Valerie.  “I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure he’s taking Vike.”

“Vike?”

“Vicodin.”

“How do you know?”

He was irritated that he even had to have this conversation, but he figured it would only be fair to be honest.  “I don’t, Val.  But I have my reasons for why I think that.”

He grabbed the door handle, planning to could get out of the van, but Val grabbed his arm.  “Wait.  Just tell me.  Why?”

He inhaled and looked out the window.  How much did he want to tell her?  How much would be enough to satisfy her?  But, goddammit, he couldn’t bring himself to be dishonest with her.  He doubted he’d ever be able to.  He looked back at her, ready to tell her whatever she needed so she could let it go.  “A couple years ago, his mom had some in the medicine cabinet…leftovers from something, and she never used the rest of ‘em.  So we both took one before going to a party.  Well…we wound up not going to the party.  We were wasted.  It was…hard to describe.  Pretty peaceful feeling.  I didn’t want to do anything, just lay there, vegging, watching whatever stupid movie we were watching on TV.  And then I just wanted to sleep.  But Ethan…over the next year, he’d take one now and then until the whole goddamn bottle was gone.”

“So if it’s gone now, how’s he getting more?”

If they’d been having this conversation yesterday, he might have smiled.  Today, though, it
simply rubbed him the wrong way.  If Val wanted to be involved with Ethan, her naiveté was going to get her in trouble.  “How does anyone get illegal drugs?  You think it’s that hard?  All you need is the right amount of cash and a connection.”

“So…what should we do about it?”

Oh, hell, no.  She was
not
going to make Ethan even more his responsibility than the guy already was.  She was
not
going to use his misguided affection for her to do her bidding for a guy who couldn’t give two shits about her.  He let the air out of his lungs.  “What do you think we can do about it, Val?”  He wasn’t about to tell her of the times Ethan had scared the shit out of him.  He wasn’t going to tell her about the times he’d lectured Ethan (or been lectured
by
Ethan for trying to stop him from doing the shit he did).  She was a relative newcomer to the Ethan’s-a-drug-addict scene, and Brad was about out of patience.  “We can’t do shit.  He has to decide he wants to stop.  You try to make him stop, he’ll just do it more.  You stand back.  That’s what you do.  You…”  He squinted his eyes and kept himself from gritting his teeth.  “You go on loving him and be there when you need to.”  He pulled his keys out of the ignition and opened the door so he could end the conversation.  “Just like I always have.”

He got out and waited in front of the van.  Val sat in the passenger seat for a long time, staring at him through the windshield as if she couldn’t believe he’d walked away from her.  Finally, he walked over to her door and asked, “Are you coming?”

She let out a breath and rolled her eyes.  She opened the door and stepped out.  She was pissed at him. 
Good.
  Maybe she’d quit asking questions.  What the fuck did she expect?  She asked, barely concealing her anger, “When are we leaving?”

He shrugged.  “Let me see if I can get the sleeping princesses up.  I’d like to leave by noon.”

“I’ll be ready.”

He nodded and walked to his door.  This day couldn’t end soon enough.

* * *

After a few weeks, Brad was able to let it all go.  He forgave Valerie in his heart—he never told her aloud that he’d been angry and upset with her.  She didn’t need to know it.  She’d never intentionally meant to hurt him, and it wasn’t like Brad hadn’t known the girl was head over heels crazy for his best friend.  Brad didn’t think Val had been a cock tease, either.  He’d initiated every encounter the two of them had ever had—she’d just been an easy victim.  So he was able to let it go and ease back into a
just friends
relationship.

They had shows every weekend, and he was able to enjoy watching Valerie get better and better.  She grew more confident, and as she
grew more sure of herself, she ventured forth, trying new things.  It was exciting.  In addition to that, she was freeing him up to become a better guitarist.  He could honestly credit her as the reason his playing was improving by leaps and bounds.

They were trying to write more songs too, but they didn’t have much time.  They did it some through email like they had over the spring.  Brad was glad for that too, because it was a natural place for their friendship to go.  It was based around music anyway—if it hadn’t been for the music, they probably would never have met, and they certainly wouldn’t have had much in common.

He didn’t think anything was going on between Val and Ethan, in spite of the kiss he’d seen them share in June, but he wasn’t going to ask, and he didn’t want to know.

One night in August they had a show in a rural town in eastern Colorado—a fantastic kick ass show, one of the best they’d done that summer.
  It had been such a great show that they were partying hard.  There were quite a few people with them, people from another band and some fans.  They were loud and also lucky that no one was complaining about the noise.  Brad had been waiting for a few minutes to use the bathroom.  When it was finally free, he walked in…and felt sorry for whatever person would have to clean it the next day.  He’d have to sneak a large tip in the room before they left—but after the guys were out of the room for good so one of them didn’t pocket it, thinking some dumb ass had forgotten his money and
finder’s keepers
(he could just hear Nick sing-songing it).

When he left the bathroom, he spent some time talking to the guitarist of the other band.  He was a solid guy, and he hoped to play with him again sometime.  When the guy’s girlfriend joined them and they’d been introduced to each other, Brad decided he was ready for another beer.  He walked to the mini fridge in the room and then realized he hadn’t seen Val and Ethan before. 
Oh, fuck.
  That probably meant it was finally happening.

Part of him didn’t want to know, didn’t
need
to know.  But that wasn’t true.  He
did
want to know.  They were both his friends, and he didn’t want to be the last to find out.  Still…what the fuck kind of creep would he be if he went to her room to find out?

He wasn’t sure how he justified leaving his room where the party was, but he had to get some fresh air.  He promised himself he would not go to her room, wouldn’t do all the things he wanted to deep down.  No—he would get a few breaths of fresh air and then return to the party.  Maybe the chick with black hair and ass like there was no tomorrow would take a walk with him.  He needed a distraction.

When he stepped outside, though, Val was right in front of the door, her back to it, and Ethan was facing her.  She was holding his hand and talking to him, her voice raised and desperate.  “That’s bullshit, Ethan.  I thought you
loved
this…and if you’re not giving it your all, if you’re not fully here, then you’ll never reach your full potential.  You’re not just letting yourself down.  You’re letting us all down.”

Ethan grabbed Val’s arm and growled at her.  At first, Brad had thought they were having some kind of a lover’s spat and he was going to turn right back around and go back to the party, but then he realized that wasn’t it at all. 
“Listen, Val, I know you think you know me, but you don’t.  I do this shit to survive, and I’m here, all right?  The day I don’t perform, the day I don’t show, that’s the fucking day you can tell me I’ve let you down.  Till then…”—he let go of Val’s arm and started backing away—“not another goddamned word about it.”

Brad walked past Val and put his hand on Ethan’s shoulder.  He knew how volatile his friend could be sometimes, and the guy was probably scaring the shit out of Val.  He kept his voice low and calm.
“Everything okay here?”

“Yeah.  I was just leaving.”

She was just as angry as Ethan.  “Yeah.  So was I.”  Ethan walked back into the party, and Val stormed away, letting herself in her own room, leaving Brad outside by himself.

He stood there for a good minute.  If he were smart, he’d go back to the party himself and not worry about it.  But he couldn’t.  He knew Val and knew this summer had been hard on her, as much as she’d loved it.  She
was having to stretch and grow…and grow up.  She wasn’t used to being surrounded by seediness.

So he went back into the party and did what he’d planned to do before he walked outside.  He found the beer…and he took two bottles.  Then he left the room again, but not without seeing Ethan getting cozy with the black-haired girl Brad had considered earlier.

He gritted his teeth but let it go.  He walked down to Val’s room and rapped on the door.  After a few seconds, she opened it and said, “What?”

Oh, that was real
ly nice—taking out her anger with Ethan on him.  Still, it just kind of underscored what he felt he needed to say to her.  “Can I come in?”  She stood back, holding the door open for him.  He sat at a chair next to the desk in the room, and she sat on the edge of the bed near him.  He asked, “Want a beer?”  He handed her a bottle, but in typical Val fashion, she shook her head, vehement.  So he placed it on the desk and twisted open the cap of the other one.  He looked her squarely in the eyes and made sure his voice was cool.  “I know you want to help Ethan, Val, but what you’re doing now…he’ll just blow you off completely.  He needs to realize on his own what he’s doing.”  She rolled her eyes.  She was blowing him off.  “I mean it, Val.  Don’t push him.  Trust me.  Doing that is a bad idea.  I don’t think he’ll overdose on it.  I’ve never seen him go overboard.”  Well...that might not have been entirely true.  He knew for sure Ethan had gotten into some bad shit before, but he didn’t think he’d OD’d.  A hospital could have confirmed it.  Just because Brad thought Ethan might have, he didn’t know for certain, and he didn’t want to upset Valerie with possibilities.

“But can he become addicted?”

“He probably already is.”

“And you just let him?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?  I
let
him?  Like I’m his mom, or I have any control over what he does?”  For some reason, her accusation set him off.  She was
letting
Ethan as well, if that was what she insisted on calling it.  “I have my own shit to deal with, Val.  I’m not the fucking cops.  That would be like me asking you why
you
just let him.”

He saw the anger and frustration in her eyes dissipate, and then she looked almost sorry.  She nodded her head. 
“Fair enough.  But what can we do, Brad?  We can’t just let him keep doing this.”

“What the hell are we
supposed
to do?”

“I guess there’s nothing.  I just feel so helpless…and lame not doing anything.”

“How do you think
I
feel?  I’m his best friend, and you were right about one thing.  I used to encourage a lot of that shit.  Hell, we used to do a lot of shit together.  First time I tried meth and coke were with Ethan.”

Her eyes almost popped out of her head
.  “You’ve tried meth?”

He shrugged.  “Yeah.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Probably.  Yeah…we did stupid shit, Val.  Just…I knew when to stop.  And…apparently Ethan doesn’t.  And…at least he’s
not
hooked on something like meth.  So, we gotta be here for him.  We need to catch him when he falls, because he will.  He’ll fall.  And that’s when he’ll decide he needs to do something different.”

“So what’s the difference between you and him?  Why could you stop and he can’t?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe he has a more addictive personality than I do.  Hell, I don’t know.  Seriously, Val.  The man’s been through hell.  You have no idea.  And this is one of the things he does to cope.”  If Val only knew half the shit Ethan had been through and seen throughout his whole life, she’d go a lot easier on the guy.  Part of Brad continued to want to protect her from that, though, but he doubted that he’d be able to.

He saw her processing it.  She was trying—he’d give her credit there.  She asked,
“Offer on the beer still stand?”

He
raised his eyebrows.  “You serious?”