Carnival Nights: Carnival #2 (7 page)

“It’s just something that’s been on my mind.”

“Well,” his tongue rolls across his lip, “you can’t save that kind of talk for the bedroom?”

I land a playful punch against his chest. He stumbles back, clutching his
wound
in faux pain. “So you can’t hit Casper the friendly ghost, but you can lunge at me? I’m starting to think you have some pent up aggression.” His smirk lights up the grounds, his smile chomping against my heart.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” I say and ready my fists.

“Sure, ya are.”

When he winks, I throw myself at him, locking my arm around his neck before throwing him to the ground. Of course, I fall to the ground with him, but I enjoy feeling him trying to squirm free from beneath me. “Hey, Blue...”

“Yeah?”

“Can’t you save the squirming for the bedroom?”

“Ah.” He pounds his open palm against the dirt three times—a sign of surrender if my
I-watched-wrestling-once
memory is correct. I let go of him and roll onto my back. He immediately flips so that his body rests on top of me. “You know I let you take me down, right?’

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I say, “but you got your ass beat by a girl.”

“You’re not just an ordinary girl.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it.” He strokes his fingers through my hair before pushing it out of my face. “You said that all you can see is me. Do you want to know what I see?”

I shrug and shift my body against the ground to find a more comfortable position. He seems to sink further into me, the weight of his body a comfort that can’t be bought. “What do you see?”

“I see a girl stronger than any girl I’ve ever known.” He pauses and slips his lips against mine, just long enough for a quick peck. “I see the most beautiful girl I ever laid eyes on.” He lands another kiss. This time, when he pulls away, I want to shut him up and kiss him until the sun rises. His compliments are great, but his lips are full of wonder. “But most of all, I see a fighter. A girl who will never give up, even when it seems the rest of the world is against her.”

“Blue...”

“I see exactly who you are, Charlie. You’re a beautiful fucking fighter.”

With my lips, I shut him up. When we’re connected like this, I forget about the rest of the world, because the only thing I see when my eyes are closed is the truth.

And the truth is that I love this man more than even God could ever know. I’d fight until my last breath for this boy, and then I’d fight some more.

BLUE

L
oss-fueled adrenaline pumps through my veins. Every step toward the front door of this run-down shack is another step toward absolution. One problem bleeds into the next. Gina and Charlie were right when they said this wasn’t all Shane’s fault. But he’s at fault for being a thief, taking something that was never his.

Similarly, Shane is not at fault for what happened to my dad. That rests on the shoulders of those involved—Cookie, Rake, Trey, my dad, and myself. Charlie’s not to blame for his death, but through my rage, I know why she withheld the truth. She didn’t want to see the haunted look that passes across my face as I place my hand on the doorknob.

The door creaks open to a steady stop. The first thing I notice is the sunlight streaming through the windows illuminating particles of dust that float through the confines of a dark room. A coffee table is parked between two floral-print couches from another decade. On that table is what looks like a bump of coke, as well as a still-burning cigarette that sits in an ashtray.

He’s still here.

I push deeper into the small house and into the kitchen. It’s desolate with only a single stool sitting against a huge window. The cabinets are all worn and the appliances beyond outdated. I’m drawn to the window, stained from years of neglect. Outside, in the backyard, is a broken-down play set.

I think back to the childhood I never really had. A childhood that was far from normal. A single swing sways in the wind and I realize I’ve never experienced the childhood thrill of exploring new heights. I’ve never had to kick my way to freedom, which is ironic because I’ve always had to work hard. Playtime—riding rides—was always automatic. I was always the passenger, and never the driver in my exploration of youth.

A noise, something along the lines of a creaking sound, steals my attention to the right. There’s a half-open door leading into what looks like a bedroom. I stalk slowly toward the dinged-up door and push it open gently.

To my surprise, the room is well-taken care of. There’s a set of sheets on the bed that’s half made. Beside the bed is a set of drawers stacked sideways against the wall, stuffed full of neatly folded clothes. I’m beginning to question if this is even Shane’s house, but if that were the case, why would Gina bring me here?

I notice a strap sticking out from under the bed and bend down so that I can get a better viewpoint. And there it is. My beautiful bag of drugs. This was a lot easier than anticipated. With one quick grab, I sling the bag out from under the bed and rise to stand.

There’s another creak behind me, this time closer and louder. I turn slowly and end up ‘face to gun.’
Shit.
I take a gulp and begin the process of reasoning. “Shane...”

“Drop the bag or I’ll shoot,” Shane says sternly. His finger is right over the trigger, but that’s not what concerns me. He’s much worse for wear from just last night. His shirt is stained with blood, and his eyes are swollen and red. His hand is unsteady, trembling, but he has nothing to fear. He’s the one with the gun and he’s high as a fucking kite.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” I speak carefully, slowly—choosing each word with deliberate care. I’ve been here before, quite a few times. I do as told and drop the bag, though. “You don’t want to shoot me.”

“I don’t want to do anything, but we’ll see what options you leave me.”

“What happened? You were cool last night.”

“It’s a new dawn, a new day, and all that bullshit. I have problems today that I didn’t have yesterday.”

“I see.” I take measure of his blood-stained shirt again. I’ve known him for less than twenty-four hours and I already know he’s seen better days. “What will you tell the police?”

He chuckles like madmen tend to do. Then, he edges closer to me, his gun inching closer to my face. “I’ll tell them you were trespassing. Georgia has very generous self-defense laws.”

“You think they’ll believe you?” A noticeable tremble begins to rumble through the tone of my voice. “Look around. You’re surrounded by drugs and paraphernalia.”

He looks away. This is the perfect moment to make my move. People on drugs and people who are fighting for their life have nothing to lose. I might not have another opportunity. He turns back to me. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

See, I should have made my move.

“You’d really shoot me? What about Gina? What would she think?”

He grins wickedly, unable to contain his excitement. “Fuck Gina. She’s just another hoe who doesn’t know what she wants. One day it’s something, the next day it’s something else.”

“I see.” I shift my weight, preparing to push myself past him.

“You know what I just realized?” he asks grimly. “You’re just wasting my time.” With a swift motion, he cocks the gun and I know time’s running out.

I throw a hand up to reason with him. “Shane, you don’t want to do this.”

“You have no idea what I want. You don’t know me, remember?”

I rush to grab his wrist, the one that’s holding the gun. As soon as I get a grip...

The gun goes off.

CHARLIE

T
he gunshot pierces through one ear, takes a pause in my mind before exiting out the other ear. I’ve never moved as fast as I do when I punch the door open and hit the pavement. My body cuts through the increasingly thick air. The world begins to fade to black, like going through a black hole. The sound of Gina screaming, “Wait!” becomes nothing but white noise.

“Blue!” I scream as I push myself through the front door. I’m hit with an instant combination of must and dust—an instant assault on my senses. I don’t see him in the dark corners of the living room and press onto the kitchen. That’s where I see Blue, laying on the floor and clutching his wounded leg. “Oh, my God.”

I throw myself to the ground and cradle his head in my lap. My stomach flips upside down when I see a pool of redness beneath him. Blood.

“Charlie,” he groans.

“Charlie!” I hear Gina scream. When I rise quickly, I’m knocked in the head by the butt of a gun. If my vision was going black before, it’s fading completely now. I stumble backward against the cracked wall. Three Shanes—the result of my blurred vision—wave a gun at me all at once.

“You people are giving me a headache,” they all say, their voices like echoes of each other. He shifts his attention to Gina, who begins to approach slowly from the front door.

“What are you doing?” she asks him, but the answer should be obvious. Hello, two of your friends are lying on the floor. One is bleeding out.

His eyes swollen, Shane squints in disbelief that one more misfit has made their way into his house. “Are there any more of you outside just waiting to come in here and annoy me?”

“Not here to annoy, but let’s talk about this,” Gina says softly, but without confidence. She’s like a deer in headlights.

“Shane,” I say, getting his attention. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t know shit about what I have to do.”

“I know that you’re a decent person.”

He raises his voice and stares me down. “I think the hole in your boyfriends’ leg says otherwise.”

“You’re high, and you don’t mean a word you say.”

“Don’t worry about him, Charlie. He’s always been full of shit,” Gina interjects. “Isn’t that right, Shane?”

Let’s just fucking hope Gina is never a hostage negotiator.

He spins to face her and raises his gun almost just as quick. He aims it squarely at her. “It’s time for you to leave. Turn around and march out that door or I’ll blow your brains against the wall.”

“No, you won’t,” she says with new-found confidence. The more unstable he gets, the more sure she seems of herself. She’s not good at this game.

“Trust me, I would,” he snarls. “I need a fresh coat of paint on these boring walls.”

Gina swallows her bravery and begins backing up toward the open door. “Fine, I’ll wait outside. But I’m not leaving without them.”

He chases her further out the door, his gun still aimed squarely on her. “You might be waiting a while.”

Positive that Gina will be safe—because he loves her no matter what he says—I shift my attention to a groaning Blue. His hand is still pressed against the bullet hole in his leg. “You doing okay?”

“I can handle a bullet in my leg. It’s you I’m concerned about.” He grimaces and scoots himself into a more comfortable position. “You should get out of here.”

I shut down that idea real fucking quick. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Of course not,” he moans. “If you’re not going to leave, then take action.”

“What the hell do you want me to do? Seduce him?”

He shrugs. “It could work.”

I think about smacking him, but remember he’s in pain.

“You’re a fighter, remember?” His breath has become ragged. He’s lost too much blood. He’s right, though. I am a fighter. In his own words,
a beautiful fucking fighter.

I lift myself off the floor, still dizzy and with a diagnosis of double vision. Still, I’m more able to do something than a wounded Blue. Slowly, I creep toward Shane. Over his shoulder, Gina spots me, but thankfully doesn’t give away my position.

With my fists in the air, hovering in fighting position, I think back to what Blue taught me. I square my shoulders with my feet, widening my stance and wait for the opportune time to strike a blow. That time comes when Shane slams the door on Gina. He scratches his head with his gun as he turns around and I land a blow against his left cheek.

Shane stumbles backward and slides down the length of the door, dropping his gun. That was almost too easy, but he’s high and not firing on all cylinders. He reaches for his gun, but I’m quicker. I stomp on his hand. He yelps and pulls back his hand to cradle it with his other hand.

In a quick swoop, I scoop the gun off the floor and into my hands. He’s not as thrilled to be on the other side of the deadly bit of metal. He cowers away from me, pushing the full weight of his body against the door. There’s nowhere left for him to go.

“Please don’t do this to me,” he begs. “If I don’t deliver those drugs, they’re going to kill me.”

“Somehow, I don’t see how that’s my problem,” I say sternly, but inside—for whatever reason—I feel for the guy.

When he bows his head, I know that he knows that I’m in control now. And while I don’t savor the feeling of a gun between my fingers, it certainly beats standing on the other end. It’s here that I have the power to decide all three of our fates. This is where I draw a line in the sand and get back to some resemblance of a normal life. “I’m going to make you an offer Blue wouldn’t give you. We walk out of here and you keep the drugs,” I say at a level he can hear me, but Blue can’t.

I know what this means. It means leaving everything we’re worth in this house. But I have my reasons. Even if there were another way to get out of here without any more casualties, I would still see this as my only option.

It’s beyond crazy how alive drugs can make one feel. They lit up my world and took me to places I didn’t even know existed. Took me to places that made me see the beauty in everything. I went down the rabbit hole and it changed my life. At first, it was for the better. But like a game of dominoes, everything fell apart, piece after piece.

I’d give it all up if for no other reason than to erase the probability that I could turn into someone like Rake or Shane. At one point, they felt what I felt. They knew what I knew—that drugs were a beautiful escape. Somewhere along the way, it changed. It consumed them and turned them into shadows of themselves. I can already see myself changing, and I’m not prepared to give up what little I have left. I have enough shadows chasing me.