Reckless Hearts (13 page)

Elena didn't know
which was more upsetting, Harlow disappearing the way he had or seeing Jake so mopey and alone and knowing there was nothing she could do about it. Deflated and confused and, honestly, sensing that she might spiral into such a distraught state that she'd never be able to find her way out, Elena stepped barefoot out of the cab on West Palm, one of the more run-down side streets behind the renovated and fancy façade of Magnolia Boulevard.

She checked the address her sister had sent her and scanned the numbers on the clapboard row houses that lined the street. When she found number 264, she
buzzed the top buzzer and waited. She hoped Nina was home—and awake.

When nobody answered, she stepped back toward the curb and strained to see into the windows of the third floor. The blinds were shut tight.

She buzzed again, jabbing her finger repeatedly at the button.
Come on, Nina
, she thought.
Just this once . . .

Just as she felt her fear and need begin to overwhelm her, the door made a grinding sound and she pushed it open. The hallway was narrow and completely enwrapped in old dirty linoleum tiles. She smelled something rank, she couldn't tell quite what.

But she climbed the stairs, slowly, in her bare feet, taking one flight at a time, wondering how Nina, with her weight and her pregnant belly, was able to manage the trips up and down. The thought of her sister standing on the landing halfway up, bent over the railing, huffing as she tried to catch her breath, seemed especially tragic tonight. One more thing to add to the list. Couldn't there be at least one thing in the world that didn't end up turning to shit?

When she reached the top floor, she knocked on the triple-locked door and peered into the peephole.

She heard her sister lumber across the room.

“Who's there? You have to move back for me to see you.”

“It's me. Elena,” she said, stepping back and waving.
She tried to smile, but she could feel the expression sour on her face. She only had to hold it together for two more minutes, she knew this, but she wasn't sure if she could manage even that.

The locks clicked open, a series of mechanical sounds, and then Nina was standing in semidarkness in front of her, a look of concern softening her face.

It was embarrassing, showing up unannounced and desperate like this. Elena tried to make a joke. “Sometimes you just need your big sister,” she said.

Nina made a sympathetic frown and held her arms out so Elena could fall into the soft cushion of her body. She hugged her like she wouldn't ever let her go. Elena managed to surprise herself and not cry.

Finally her sister released her and said, “What happened?”

“I don't know,” Elena said. “When I try to put it into words it seems stupid.”

They entered the apartment and Elena was shocked and disturbed by what she saw. The mess Nina used to make in the living room seemed to have been magnified by a thousand. The floor was littered with pizza boxes and crumpled bags from McDonald's and Taco Bell, empty beer bottles that Elena had to be careful not to fall on, cigarette butts ground into the hardwood floor.

Matty was passed out on his stomach, half falling off a dilapidated couch that looked like it had been recovered
from the street. When Elena saw him, her sister made a face as though to say she was exhausted and beaten down by dealing with him.

They made their way to the corner of the room, where there was a chair Nina could sit in and a leaky beanbag for Elena.

“So,” said Nina.

“So, I don't even know where to begin,” said Elena. “I had a date and it was amazing—like, transforming. And then . . .”

“You're talking about Harlow?”

“Yeah. Harlow.”

Nina nodded sagely, as though she contained some secret wisdom that she wasn't ready to divulge.

Elena could feel the emotions welling up inside her again. She felt like she was going to break into a million pieces. She had to do something to push them out, to hold herself together, but she didn't know what. The tears rose in the corners of her eyes. To ward them off, she began talking, babbling, not even knowing what she was saying.

“When I'm with him, I feel, I don't know. Reckless. Fearless. Like nothing in the world can keep up with me. And tonight, it was just . . . You know when you feel out of control but in a good way? It was like that. We went to this fancy party at StarFish and it was so glamorous and I felt like maybe I could be glamorous, too. You
know what I mean? Like because I was with Harlow . . .”

Nina filled in the words she couldn't find. “You felt like you could see yourself the way he saw you.”

“Yeah,” Elena said. “We snuck up onto the roof of the hotel. It felt reckless. Dangerous.”

“Thrilling,” said Nina.

“And . . .”

“You had sex.”

Elena nodded. She fought back the tears. “But then . . . he just disappeared. Like Christmas Eve when we took that ride on his motorcycle. But worse. This time, he was there and then he wasn't. He just left me at this hotel where I didn't know anybody. He left me, Nina. Just like that. Not even a good-bye. Is that right? Is that normal? And there's these guys after him.”

“Hold up, what?”

“There's these guys after him. Like, they want to kill him or something. He said they think he owes them money, which, I don't know what that means. Does he really owe them money? Why? Or does he not owe them money but they think he does? Is there some other thing he hasn't told me about that . . . I mean, it's just . . . it's, like . . . he's a total mystery. Maybe he's into some bad shit or something. I wouldn't know. He won't tell me. He won't let me in. It's like he's trying to protect me, or he's trying to protect himself, or he doesn't trust me, or he doesn't like me, or I don't know.”

The tears finally broke through. Elena felt a heat releasing inside her body. She began to sob.

“I don't know anything,” she blurted. “How can I be so into this guy when I don't know a single thing about him? Jake would say I shouldn't. Jake hates his guts. But that's a whole other thing.”

A new wave of sobs broke inside of Elena. Jake's part in all this was more than she could explain. It was more than she could handle. All she could do now was curl up in a ball and wish the pain would go away.

Nina scooted down to sit next to her on the floor. She held her tight, rocking her, petting her head until her sobs melted into a more consistent, less uncontrollable crying.

Elena asked her sister, “Does it have to feel like this? What's wrong with me, Nina? Why didn't you tell me it was all so hard?”

Nina held her head close and rocked her and rocked her. “Oh, baby,” she murmured. “Oh, Elena. If I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn't be here with Matty, would I? Do you think I know how to do the right thing? You know? Us Rios girls. We were made this way. Or we ended up this way. Sometimes I wonder, maybe if Mom hadn't . . .”

Then she started crying, too.

Elena knew what Nina would have said if she'd been able to finish her sentence. She would have said,
Maybe
if Mom hadn't died
. But she had. And without her, neither of them had really figured out how to be a strong woman like she'd been.

Elena clutched her sister tighter. They rocked back and forth until it was hard to tell who was comforting whom.

Later, unable to
shake the melancholy that had come over him after seeing Elena, Jake slung his guitar over his back and wandered barefoot down to the private beach attached to the house. He walked slowly out to the water and watched the waves lap at the sand. The cool water rolled over his toes and the moonlight turned everything a haunted silvery color.

He felt so bottomlessly sad that the feeling was almost comforting, like a long-lost friend, rich with memory and possibility. Like life was real and this moment was important. He told himself to remember the feeling. To remember this walk. To use it in his music.

Not wanting the moment to end, he followed the
tide line along the beach. Jake wasn't sure where Cameron's property ended, but the beach went on forever. He enjoyed the way the wet sand gave under his toes, the way it compressed and grew denser as his feet pressed down on it.

Up ahead, he saw a shape in the sand. A boulder of darkness. It wasn't moving.

When he got closer, he saw that it was a person, sitting with legs curled up. He wondered who else could be out here at this hour.

Then, when he was closer still, he saw the blond waves and the posture of the body and realized, with a sinking dread, that it was Nathaniel, staring, as though in a daze, out at the water.

Jake didn't think he'd seen him yet. He considered turning back. But something about that idea felt like defeat. He had just as much right to be on this beach as Nathaniel did.

He wandered on.

Even when Jake was right on top of him, Nathaniel didn't seem to see him. The guy was crying. Or he'd been crying. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. He'd propped his silver inlaid flask in the sand next to him and Jake wondered how much he'd had to drink tonight. Nate had never seemed the type to drink himself to tears. He was more the wicked, angry drunk.

Despite everything that had happened between
them, Jake sort of felt for the guy. He wanted to believe his mother about Cameron—he trusted her ability to see through to the hearts of other people—but the guy had been so uncompromising with Nathaniel at Christmas and throughout the week things had just gotten worse between them. They'd barely been able to sit in the same room together. It must be hard to feel like you've so profoundly failed your father.

“Hey,” he said, a gesture of goodwill.

Nathaniel looked up at him, and it was like he was seeing through him. There was something vacant in his eyes, like wherever he was in his head was more real than being in the world.

Jake noticed now that he had something in his hands. A slip of crumpled paper. Or no. It was an origami swan like the ones Jake had found all over the bedroom. Nate cradled it almost like it was alive, a baby chick in need of warmth and care.

“What's going on?” Jake said. He slid the guitar off his shoulder and plopped down next to Nathaniel. “You okay?”

Nathaniel didn't answer. He twirled the swan between his two forefingers. He pushed his finger against its beak in a gesture that contained more love than Jake had thought Nate capable of. Finally, when he did speak he seemed to be talking to himself more than to Jake.

“My mom made this,” he said. “She made one every
day. A single swan. Sometimes out of an envelope. Sometimes out of tissue paper. Each one was a little bit different from the others. She'd hide them around the house and it was my job to find them. If I did I'd get a cookie. It was a game we played. I'd get home from school and while she did her housework or put away the groceries or whatever, I'd search under pillows and behind the bedposts, inside the flower pots, until I found the swan. It was . . .”

He rubbed his eyes. He was crying again.

“That's a sweet memory,” Jake said, not knowing how else to respond. When someone was this distraught, he felt, you had to respect the depths of that person's feelings. Even someone so annoying as Nathaniel.

“She died today,” Nathaniel said abruptly, wiping his eyes.

“What?”

“Or not today, but today's the anniversary. New Year's Eve. 2008. We were in the Bahamas. Staying at the resort Cameron owns down there. She jumped off the helipad on the roof of the hotel. Fifteen stories. She didn't have a chance.”

Jake wasn't sure if he was supposed to gently pat Nathaniel on the back or give him a hug or what. “I didn't know that,” he said. “I'm sorry to hear—”

Nathaniel turned on him with a sudden, barely suppressed rage. “Why would you know? Tell me why you
would know! It's not like Cameron would have told you about it.” His eyes went far away again for a moment, and then he continued spitefully, “Cameron's the reason she's dead.”

What an accusation. Cameron was domineering and self-involved, sure. Jake had figured that out, but to drive someone to suicide? It didn't seem possible that this could be true. Whatever his attitude toward Nathaniel, he'd shown nothing but devotion to Jake's mother. Still, Jake didn't want to disrespect Nathaniel's feelings. He tried to project through his body language that he was listening, that he cared in some way.

“You don't think so?” Nathaniel said, as though Jake, through his silence, had accused him of lying. “You think,
Oh, Cameron. He couldn't do something like that. He's so charming. He bought me a car.
But the dude's a total prick. He's got women hidden in every hotel he owns. Every city in the world. He likes them young and spacey. And psychologically damaged. And my mom . . . He might have been married to her, but he treated her like the hired help. Like the maid who lets you take advantage of her because she's afraid of losing her job.”

It was like with every new thought, Nathaniel grew angrier at Jake, even though Jake had nothing to do with any of this. Trying to be both diplomatic and
compassionate, Jake placed a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder and said, “It must be really hard, man. I don't know what I'd do if I lost my mother that way.”

Nathaniel slapped him away with a violent chop to the arm. The rage on his face had curdled into hatred. Jake felt it burning toward him.

“You'll see,” he said. “It won't take that long for Cameron to drive your mom insane, too. He does it to everyone. And then what will you have? Nothing. Nada. You'll have jack shit, brother. Don't think Cameron's going to think you're the golden boy once your mom's gone. That trust fund you think you're going to steal out from under me, you can kiss that baby good-bye. It won't go to me, I'll give you that. He'll find some new woman to make promises to. And he'll roll all that money forward to her kid, just like he did from me to you.”

Nathaniel had worked himself up into such a lather that he'd inadvertently crushed the origami swan in his fist.

“I'm not your enemy, Nathaniel,” said Jake. “You know? I'm not asking for anything from Cameron. I just think it's all very sad. And if I see him behave toward my mom like that, I'll—”

“Why are you still here?” Nathaniel said in response, his top lip curling malevolently. “Did I ask you to sit here and pretend to care? You're not as sensitive as you
pretend to be. You know that? You just like the idea of people thinking you are. Go find someone else to smear your pity all over. Go find that hottie of yours with the cute little strawberry mark on her thigh. She probably needs you to cheer her up. Or is she not yours anymore? You fucked that up already, didn't you? Too bad. Would have been nice to have her around when Cameron takes everything away from you.”

That was it. Jake had had enough. He'd tried, he'd really tried to be the bigger person and separate his feelings about Nathaniel from the guy's obvious pain. But there was no way he'd let that be an excuse for this abuse.

“Nathaniel,” he said, looking the guy dead in the eye, “you don't know anything about Elena. You don't know anything about me. So do yourself a favor and shut the fuck up.”

For a second, neither of them said a word. They just stared at each other, calling each other's bluff.

“Or what?” said Nathaniel. “What you gonna do?” He smoldered, his eyes boring through Jake like he'd kill him if he could.

The adrenaline rushed to Jake's head, blotting out all thought.

And before he knew what was happening, Nathaniel had leaped over him, grabbed his guitar, and spun in a circle, holding it out in front of him. He brought it smashing down on the sand, and when it didn't break,
he brought it down again. And again and again, kicking up a cloud of sand around him, busting the neck, and then, still not satisfied, shoving his bare foot through the hollow basin of its body.

Turning to Jake, Nathaniel broke out the smirk he'd been hiding all night. “What you gonna do now, brother? Go tell mommy again?”

Jake didn't think. He couldn't think. He didn't know what he was doing, didn't even know what he was trying to do. He could only react.

He leaped at Nathaniel, swinging his fists, but Nathaniel pushed back with a stiff arm, sending Jake down into the sand. Scrambling to his feet, Jake charged again.

Nathaniel lowered his shoulder and, using his forearms as clubs, he shoved Jake back again with an elbow to the jaw.

On his knees in the sand, Jake felt the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. He jumped to his feet and charged toward Nathaniel like a wild animal, leaping and grabbing him around the waist. They grappled, each of them stretching for leverage, until Nate buckled and went down on his chest in the sand.

Jake spun and straddled Nathaniel's back. He dug both hands into Nathaniel's hair, and he smashed his face against the sand over and over again, just like Nate had done to his guitar.

For a second, Jake thought,
My God, I could kill this guy
.

All at once he was horrified with what he was doing. He let Nathaniel go, struggled to his feet, and stumbled back toward the house.