Sparkle (20 page)

“What?” Jolie’s resolve to protect Eddie hardened. No way was she going to add any fuel to Mark’s rant. “And who do you think you are, opening one of my presents, anyway?”

“Sorry, but this is just too weird.”

“Besides, just because I have one of his business cards doesn’t mean he was here.”

Mark sauntered into the living room, rolling the ball around in his hand. He leaned down and carefully inspected the broken windowpane. He held the ball up to it.

“Oh, my God.” He narrowed his eyes at Jolie. “No way. He broke in, didn’t he? He broke in and cleaned this place up.” Mark stared. “You should call the police. Seriously.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jolie said.

“What? If he broke in here—”

“Jeez, Mark, relax.” Jolie tried to compose herself. This was going way too far. “Nobody broke into my house. It’s my birthday. You’re supposed to be nice to me, remember? And…I have to get ready. And why, exactly, are you here?”

“I can’t believe it…You’re protecting him. You’re lying to me.”

Jolie took a deep breath and held it for a second before answering. She looked at the clock. Please get here, Tracy. “Why would I lie to you?” Why would I tell you the truth?

Mark looked at her in a way that Jolie didn’t like at all, as if he were going to fly off the handle. Instead, after a long uncomfortable silence, he said flatly, “He’s dangerous, Jolie. I’m sorry you can’t see what’s happening. He has no control. And you’re acting like an irresponsible—”

“Lighten up,” Jolie snapped. At this point, she was caring less and less about what he thought. “Even if he did come over, so what? He’s harmless. He’s…it’s not really any of your business, anyway, Mark. This is my house. And will you please tell me why you’re here?

Mark sucked his finger again briefly. “I told Tracy the whole night was on me. I’m paying for the whole crew. You too, of course. And I thought I’d be designated driver. I don’t handle alcohol too well—but seriously, Jolie, this is more important—”“

Jolie put her hands to her face. Her head immediately started to pound. “Oh, my God. You’re unbelievable. Just go, Mark,” she said, forcing herself not to shout. “Just go home, or go somewhere. But please don’t come out with us. This is making me insane.”

Mark was quiet for a moment. Then his face broke into a weird smile, and his handsome features briefly looked as though they were made of plastic. He carefully took his coat off the rack and put it on. “Fine,” he said. “Even though I really do not understand why you refuse to see what’s happening. Maybe it’s not my job to take care of you, but there’s a whole staff you’re putting at risk. I’m afraid I’m going to have to make a total idiot of myself and reinstate my concerns to the state..”

Jolie was too flustered to speak.

Mark walked down the front path without closing the door behind him. He got into his SUV, slammed the door, and drove off.

Jolie watched him go. ““You took my ball,” she said softly.

Eddie sat stiffly in the cab. He felt himself drifting off, freezing up in a storm of white noise. He was shaking slightly, and he couldn’t stop rubbing his head. He was completely unaware of the driver checking him out in the rearview mirror.

Why had Jolie’s hand left that bloody mark on his knee? It felt different than when Mark had touched him, a deeper ache than the painful but superficial sting of Mark’s hand on his shoulder. And why wouldn’t the thumping in his heart die down? He dreaded looking at what Lucy had given him. Not because of what it might be. Because he knew what it meant. It meant he’d have to do something, go somewhere, follow it wherever it lead him. Because he’d made a promise to Lucy just like he’d made a promise to Jolie—just like he’d made a promise to his mom. And promises never let you go until they were paid in full. And they took you places, almost always strange and uncomfortable and sometimes horrible. And you never know…

He turned his head toward the window and closed his eyes. They fluttered under the lids. He managed to put on his sunglasses.

Eddie could feel himself slipping, back and down, deep inside. He saw a flash in his head, and suddenly he was little, back in his parents’ house.

It was early morning. The day would be warm and bright. Eddie knelt in his underpants, bathed in a pool of cheerful sunlight. He sprayed Shiny Gold and scrubbed the carpet, quick and light. His hands moved precisely, back and forth, side to side. The movement had a quick rhythm, and although he was exhausted, he didn’t slow down. It had been a long night.

The house was almost clean.

Little Joe, unconscious on his neatly made bed, lay nearby. He was wearing clean pajamas. A nasty wound, covered with dried blood, ran up his right cheek to the temple. Half of his hair was matted with dried blood; the other half was combed.

Eddie thought Joe was dead, but all of a sudden Joe opened his eyes, raised his hand to his head, and groaned.

Eddie looked up, tears streaming down his blank face. “Joe,” he said.

Joe’s voice sounded blurry when he spoke. “Eddie. What happened?”

The vision ended and Eddie stared out the window. It was a memory, he realized. Something had happened a long time ago, something bad. What? Whatever it was, Eddie had cleaned it up, made things right. Why was it coming back now? Cleaning had been his gift and his tool ever since he was a kid, and today was the first time in his life that it had backfired on him.

He wanted to go home. He needed to sit still, to be somewhere familiar, to clear out his head, to sleep and dream. He had had such high hopes for today, had been so sure that the risks he was taking would pay off. Now everything was muddled together, confused, dark, and unpleasant.

Eddie needed to get back in balance quickly. If he didn’t, something even worse might happen. Not to mention how Joe was going to react.

Chapter 28

Joe was smoking furiously, too upset to speak, his knee bouncing as he sat with LaVonne at the kitchen table.

He heard the door open and rushed into the front room. Eddie was standing still, just inside the threshold.

“Jesus, Eddie, where were you all d-d-day?” Joe shook with the effort to keep calm.

Eddie looked at him for a long time, not into his eyes, but just below his chin. “Sorry, Joe,” he said. It took a lot of effort. He brushed past Joe and headed downstairs.

Joe stood dumbfounded for a moment before yelling after him, “That’s it? That’s it? Where the hell were you?”

LaVonne was suddenly standing behind Joe, and she gently touched his arm. “Go a little easy, Joe.”

He didn’t turn to face her. “Easy? Easy? Shit!”

He felt as though he might have broken into tears if she hadn’t been around to see it.

“He’s home,” she said. “He’s safe. Go easy on yourself.”

LaVonne’s voice was soft and mellow. Joe waited to feel annoyance at her being there, at her presuming to offer him advice, but it didn’t come. He was astonished to realize that he was simply comforted by her presence.

He walked wearily into the living room, plopped down on the seldom-used couch, and put his head in his hands. LaVonne sat down quietly beside him. There was a long silence.

“I’m so fucking sick of this whole thing,” he said finally. That was a big thing for him to say. Taboo. He wasn’t supposed to feel that way about taking care of his brother.

“I can imagine,” LaVonne said.

Joe tried to take it further, but everything was knotted up in his head. “This isn’t…I’m not…it’s just so…” he tried lamely.

“Why don’t you go talk to your brother, Joe?”

“Because I might kill him.”

LaVonne smiled. Joe was trying in his own pained way to lighten the situation. “I doubt that. Did you even eat anything today?”

“Um…” Joe’s voice softened. “I have no idea. No, I guess not.”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“I bet some food would really help. I’m going to run out and get something. Can you deal with that?”

“I guess.”

“Good. Meantime, go check on your brother. Just go talk to him. Will you do that?”

“I guess.”

“Will you be nice?”

“I’m always nice to Eddie.” Joe pushed himself up wearily and headed downstairs.

Eddie was already in the shower. He’d taken off his shirt and pants, which were hanging on hooks on the bathroom door, but his underwear was still on, and he was spraying Shiny Gold on his leg where Jolie had touched him, even though the water was spraying full blast. He felt awful. He’d been so willing and eager for her touch, and now that it had finally come, he couldn’t stand something about it. He had to get it off him.

Jolie had asked him to go away; she’d told him not to come back. Lucy Silver had compared him to one of the people who did the awful things he had to clean up. Terrible dark thoughts, premonitions, memories and feelings, usually safely buried, were rising up and threatening to overwhelm him. He was determined to keep them down.

He sat down in the shower so he could scrub better. There it was, still wet and red: Jolie’s handprint marking his bare leg. Eddie was entranced by its beautiful shape, and horrified by what it might mean. Maybe he shouldn’t clean it off. It was part of her. But it hurt like hell.

Joe came into the bathroom, put down the toilet lid, and sat down. “You okay in there?”

“Go away, Joe.” Eddie’s voice was robotic. He couldn’t deal with Joe right now.

“You sure? You need some help?”

“No.”

Joe watched the puddle spread. He stood and turned on the ceiling fan, then lit a cigarette. “Want to tell me what you were up to today?”

“Sorry, Joe.” Eddie said. “Never.”

Whoa. When Eddie said that, he meant it. Unless he found out some other way, Joe would never learn how his brother had spent the day.

In a way, Joe was relieved. Truthfully, he didn’t want to know. “You know we missed work,” he said.

“Uh-huh. Okay.”

“That pissed me off royally.”

“Okay.”

“And you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry, Joe.” Eddie didn’t want to talk this much, especially not now, but it was a useful distraction. If Joe wasn’t going to go away, and it kept him calm, fine.

Joe wasn’t sure where to take it from here. Maybe it was best to let it be. He was surprised at how quickly his anger and fear were dissipating. He didn’t know where Eddie had gone, but if Eddie was sorry, and it wasn’t going to happen again, maybe it was best to forget about the whole thing as quickly as possible.

Eddie was quiet. Joe smoked the rest of his Pall Mall, then reached over and put it out in the sink and flushed the butt down the toilet. He picked up Eddie’s pants and put them in the clothes hamper. He threw a towel over the water on the floor.

“Well,” he said finally. “You going to be up for the cleanup job tomorrow? I rescheduled it. I need you to be up for that, all right? Will you be, Eddie?”

Eddie heard him, but it took a major gear change. Right. The job they were supposed to have done today was a big one. So much was offkilter right now. Maybe a regular Sparkle Cleaners job would help him get centered again after the disaster he’d created today. If he was losing his touch, if his intuition was going wrong on him, a cleaning job would be the best place to find out.

“Okay, Joe.”

“Okay, Eddie. Thanks.”

After a long silence, Eddie said, “I’m done, Joe.” That meant he wanted Joe to turn off the water.

His asking for help was a good sign, an offer of a truce. “Sure.” Joe reached in to turn off the shower. “Jesus, Eddie! This is freezing!” Eddie hadn’t used any hot water.

Joe grabbed a dry towel, wrapped it around his brother, and helped him out of the shower. Eddie was slightly blue around the lips. He still had on his underwear.

“You should’ve let me help you,” Joe said. “You should always let me…help you. I don’t know what you were up to today. I didn’t like today, Eddie. I didn’t like it at all. I was worried about you, man.”

Eddie didn’t say anything.

“So don’t do it again.”

No response.

“I’m serious.”

Silence.

“You tired?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie said. “Okay.”

“I’ll get your pajamas. And you should take off your wet underwear.”

Once Joe was out of the room, Eddie looked in the mirror, something he rarely did on purpose. Every time he looked in a mirror, the reflection started out blurred and indistinct, then slowly resolved into an image of him at six years old.

Today had not been a good day.

“Nine-one-one,” he said to the mirror.

He needed to sleep. Sleep was his best chance—his only chance—of putting the huge mess in his head back in some kind of order. He could only do one big thing at once, and right now he didn’t even know where to start.

He looked at his pants hanging on the back of the door.

“You do know, though,” said a voice in his head. It was Lucy Silver.

Thirty minutes later, Joe was sitting at the kitchen table with LaVonne, scarfing down the big plate of take-out Chinese she’d dished up for him.

LaVonne sipped her wine and watched him. He looked like a wolf. No, more like a golden retriever—a puppy. He wasn’t gross, just hungry. She waited until he slowed down.

“So,” she said. “How’d it go?”

“He crashed. Whatever he did today made him tired.”

“Do you know what he did?”

“Nope, and he’s not going to tell. I know him.”

“Think you’ll ever find out?”

“I don’t know,” Joe faltered. He didn’t want to tell her the truth. He didn’t really want to know. All he wanted was for the day to be over. And he was starving. He rubbed his scar with one hand as he scooped up another big spoonful of almond chicken with the other.

“It’s good,” he muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

LaVonne looked at Joe, raised an eyebrow, and sipped her wine. “How about you? You tired?

Joe finally looked up from his food and right at her. “No,” he said, through a mouthful. “I’m wired. Can I have a drink?”

“Excuse me?” LaVonne said.

“Sorry. Please?”

She poured him a glass. Joe downed it in one long swig, and then held the glass out. “More, please?” LaVonne poured. Joe gulped it down again.