Tailspin (Better Than You) (9 page)

I exhale loudly. “It’s not like that, Kait.”

“It’s not like what?” she asks innocently.

Shaking my head, I say, “Nevermind,” and then turn to walk back towards my end of the bar. A light touch on my arm stops me.

“Hey, I was just messing around. Do you want me to go check on her?”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head, “It’s fine.”

I’m about to turn around again, go back to minding my own business and stop acting like a bitch when I catch sight of her long, dark hair, her hand extended behind her and Sam in tow. As if she can feel my gaze burning into the side of her head, she turns and meets my eyes, for only a brief second but long enough to know what I feared. After she disappears into the hall, I stand there for another five seconds at least. I know Logan uses. I’ve been around it enough to know the signs; the dilated pupils, the fake smiles and the concentration it takes to pretend like they’re not high as a fucking kite. What I don’t know is what she’s using. I’m afraid to look too closely and find out the truth.

“You alright?” Kait yells, breaking into the space I’ve created where no one else exists except me and the fact that fucking Logan is in that bathroom and I can’t move to stop her.

“No,” I say, but I don’t elaborate. I just turn and go back to making drinks and trying my damndest not to notice the exact moment when Logan walks back into the bar. But it’s impossible. She shifts the air around her, like the pressure parts to allow her, pushing against all of us to make space. It’s suffocating.

After a few minutes, without making the conscience effort to figure it out, I know what she’s on. I nearly scream in frustration. She’s flitting around, making drinks and wiping counters like she enjoys what she does. She’s making conversation with her costumers and smiling and
god
, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile like that. It’s mesmerizing. Then she looks my way and beams that smile at me. It’s hard not to return it.

The night has finally ended, the last of the patrons kicked out and sent home in a cab, and all I can think about is marching over to Logan, grabbing her face and kissing her. Hard. If only to get her to stay still for one second. I’ve convinced myself it’s necessary, for her benefit of course, and begin to walks towards her when Sam beats me to it. I stop and stare. Her face is hidden by a veil of dull, blonde hair. I know that if she looks at me,
really
looks at me, she’ll recognize me. I’m hoping that’s as far as it goes because there’s no chance of me leaving this room right now.

Logan and Sam talk in hushed tones, Logan’s face changing with excitement and then uncertainty, all of her emotions in plain sight. I never once look at Sam. I’ve never seen Logan look this alive; this animated and invested in a conversation. It’s not that she’s a monotone person; far from it. It’s just that usually there’s an undercurrent of sadness in the way she moves and the things she says. Right now it’s nowhere to be found. Again I find myself unable to move, apprehensive of interfering. She drags her finger across her heart, sealing a promise, and I know I have to say something.

“Uh, Lo?”
Smooth.

Sam finally notices me, a small, knowing smile forming on her angular face. She whispers something inaudible to Logan who says, “Sorry, Nathan, I’m just saying bye to my friend.” After a few more seconds of conversation, Sam finally walks away. But not before turning and winking in my direction. She knows who I am.

Loud music fills the space of the now empty bar. Kait starts singing, loud and obnoxious, while Georgia, Bridget and Ashley dance along. And then Logan laughs. And I realize that I’m still standing there, a glass in one hand and a rag in the other. I decide to finish stacking the glasses I was washing. When that’s done, I turn to find Logan, but she’s gone.

“Nate,” I hear Kait yell, and I tear my eyes away from my search for Logan to face her. She points a finger towards the back hall, says, “Trash,” and I take off in a sprint. The back door glides open and I step out into the night, sighing in relief as I see Logan struggling with a large bag halfway over her head.

“Doesn’t it get old, guys?” she says without turning, still lifting the bag. I jog over and grab it from her, easily tossing it up and over the large metal wall. Once her hands are empty, she spins around and places them on her hips. “What the hell, Nathan!” she yells. “I almost had it.”

“What’s going on with you tonight?” I ask, ignoring her outburst.

She visibly stills and widens her eyes, as if she’s trying not to look away. “What are you talking about?”

“You were talking to people. And smiling.”

“So you think there has to be something going on, because I was talking and smiling?”

I’ve hurt her feelings, which wasn’t my intention. I take a step back and run a hand through my hair. It gets caught in the tangles. I need a cut. “That’s not what I meant,” I say, exasperated. “And that,” I point to her side. “What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Honestly.” She tries to step past me, but I don’t let her. I wrap my arm around her waist and hold her still, her hip against mine, my fingers splaying over her delicate ribs, careful not to hold them too tight. She doesn’t move, even though I know she can. That says something. I’m just not sure what.

I turn and speak into her ear, hoping I can make her feel this current of electricity coursing through me. “Does your boyfriend hit you, Lo?”

Her breathing is heavy, like the air is too much to take in. She doesn’t say anything and for a moment I think she might tell me the truth. Suddenly I’m not so sure I want to hear it. I’m not sure I can handle it. But then her voice, cold and distant, breaks into the tense moment. “It’s none of your damn business what my boyfriend does to me.” And then her body is gone, my arm is empty, and I can’t keep images of her and Danny out of my head.

12

March 14, 2009

              My bouncing knee gives me away. Chief looks up and meets my eyes. “Are you sure you can still handle this?”

              Even though I’m far from sure, I nod. I’m in too deep. I’m invested. “Yes, sir,” I say.

              “Good, because we need you to finish it. Soon.”

              This can’t be finished soon. It’s too big. “It’s bigger than we thought. I need more time.”

              He stares at me, his jaw moving back and forth in thought. “How much time?”

              “A few more weeks, at least.”

              Mitch nods once. “Fine.” Before I walk out of the door, he calls my name. “Be careful, son.”

              This is the part where I mention Logan. This is where I do my job and tell him that I have an in, that if I exploit it, I could take Danny down for sure. But that would mean putting Logan in danger, betraying her, and I’m not sure I can add that to the list of things that will haunt me forever. So I keep my mouth shut and leave him with a short nod.

              A voice pokes and prods inside my head, insisting that I’m already betraying Logan by lying to her, but it’s more like a lie of omission. If everything works out, I’ll be able to bring Danny and Brody down without Logan being any the wiser. She doesn’t go to the parties. In fact, it seems she hardly goes anywhere at all. Maybe Danny doesn’t allow it. Maybe he-

              I shake my head. I can’t allow myself to think of what Danny does or doesn’t do.

              As I’m driving home, my phone beeps with a text. It’s from Brody.

             
Party tonight,
is all it says. I’m expected to text back for the time and address. I’ve been skipping the parties lately, opting instead to work at the bar with Logan to keep a better eye on her, but I need to get back on top of things. I want this assignment to be over.

              By the time I make it back to the house, it’s past six o’clock. Emily, Joshua and Cora are sitting at the kitchen bar eating pizza and turn when I walk in the house.

              “Nathan, so nice to see you,” Emily says sarcastically.

              “Hey, guys, sorry I’m late. I had a meeting with…” I trail off, realizing that I can’t say exactly who that meeting was with. All of this lying and hiding. It’s killing me. “Um, with a few liquor distributor guys. For stock inventory.”

              Emily rolls her eyes and I have feeling it’s not because I’m late, but because she knows I’m lying. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything about it, but neither does anyone else. They pick up their conversation as if I’m not in the room, only Cora glancing over at me standing at the entrance of the kitchen with an apologetic look in her eyes.               I’m tired of being shut out. It’s my own fault, I know that, but can’t they understand that I’m doing the best I can?

              Sighing, I shuffle over to the seat next to Joshua and plop down. He leans over the counter and grabs a slice of pizza, drops it on a paper plate and passes it over, all without looking at me.

              “Thank you,” I say, knowing that this small action is his way of saying,
it’s alright
. He was never too much of a talker before the accident, but now he’s especially quiet. He’s got his one-liners and his moments of pre-teen drama, but other than that, he’s all action. I’ve learned to accept that it has nothing to do with me.

              Emily and Cora go on and on about professors and unfair assignments and explosive boy drama, but all I can think about is that I’m going to a party and Logan might be there. The possibility always exists, and each time my heart beats rapidly until I scan the entire house and don’t see her face. Then the blood in my body sings with the lust for revenge when Danny walks in. It’s a heady feeling, the anticipation of Logan followed by the anticipation of a fight that can’t happen. I’m left with all of this unused adrenaline and no way to empty my body of it. I’ve thought about going to the gym or picking up some sort of martial arts, but I just don’t have the time. Or the energy.

              This time feels different, though. As I’m walking towards the address of the party, there’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach that is impossible to ignore. I know woman are the ones who get the intuition and shit, but maybe I’ve picked some of it up now that I’ve taken over Mom’s role because something is trying to tell me
something
. It’s a bad feeling, one that gnaws at and churns my full-of-pizza stomach. Taking deep breaths, I tell myself it’s nothing. That it’s stress. It works for the most part, the materialized calm propelling me into the house, past the throng of strange faces and into the middle of Brody and his crowd.

              “I guess I’m late,” I yell at Brody as he hands me a red cup of cheap beer.

              He laughs and bumps his cup against mine. “Nah, bro, you’re good. There’s still plenty of girls and plenty of beer.”

              Out of everyone I’ve met, Russel and Hannah and Clem and Cas and all of their friends, Brody is my favorite. He’s likeable, decent. He isn’t vulgar like Russel was, or self-absorbed like Cas. I don’t know how he got mixed up with the likes of Danny, but it sucks to know that his part in all of this is the biggest. The parties and the drugs begin and end with him. In this group, at least.

              After taking a sip of the water pretending to be beer, I ask, “Is Danny here?”

              Brody swallows and shakes his head. “Nah. Said he had some shit to take care of.”

              Disappointed, I nod my head. Danny’s hard to read and even harder to keep track of. I think he’s smarter than any of us give him credit for, and that’s the scariest part of it all. Never underestimating the enemy is rule number one. And anyways, I’d rather concern myself with fucking up Danny’s life rather than Brody’s.

              “I’m gunna take a lap,” I tell Brody,
taking a lap
meaning walking the house.

              He claps me on the shoulder. “Alright, man. If you need it, the bedrooms upstairs are empty. The keys are above the doors.”

              I laugh, wondering why he’s always assuming I’m going to need a room, and walk away. As soon as I’m out of sight, I ditch the cup of beer on a nearby shelf. The house is crowded, and I squeeze my way towards the room with the most going on, joining a ring of guys standing around a makeshift dance floor. Shaking my head, I allow myself to scan the crowd, noticing that it’s mainly girls. It reminds me of high school proms, where the guys don’t have the balls to ask the girls to dance. The only difference here is that these guys aren’t wanting to dance. They’re wanting to-

              Long, brown hair catches my attention. I know who it belongs to by the way that it moves; how it hangs down her back in thick curls and sways gently like its being pushed by a current. Her thin shoulders are loose, relaxed, so unlike how I’m used to seeing them at the bar that I don’t immediately walk up to her. The urge is there, to pull her against me and shield her from the fucks surrounding me, but another part of me wants to watch and admire just like them. She moves lithely, fluidly, all water and air and everything that’s meant to sustain. Seeing her like this, here, it stirs something primal inside of me. Something raw, dangerous.

              Before I know what I’m doing, I’m walking up behind her, stopping just a foot away and watching up close how she swings her hips, back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes she dips, runs a hand through her hair, lifts it off the back of her neck. Each movement is easy, unfiltered. It’s as if nobody else in the room exists.

              When I wrap myself around her body, the moment is electrifying. She doesn’t push me away like I anticipated. She doesn’t turn around, either. I can tell that she’s high or drunk or both, but it doesn’t matter. I can smell the sweet scent of her skin and the feel the heat of her blood. Suddenly, I need to see her face, her eyes, anything to tether me to this piece of time. Hand on her hips, I turn her in my arms and finally am met with her piercing gaze. Again I feel like she’s searching for something, and I try to let her find it. I hope that whatever she needs, I can be the one to give it to her. It’s a selfish wish, one that will only hurt both of us, but nothing connected to Logan is rational.