Willows, Jennifer - Lust for Life [The Moreland Brothers 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) (23 page)

Makenzie took her shoes and put them on the floor and climbed in bed with Charli, hugging her until they both fell asleep.

The next time Charli woke, she heard her cell ring. Sliding her hand over the nightstand, hoping against hope it was him, she managed to find the phone and squint at the touch display. It was the bank.

Charli bolted upright and cleared her throat, climbing out of her bed, where Makenzie still slept on oblivious.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Charlene Anderson? This is Al Palmer.” The loan officer from the bank, she had forgotten he was supposed to call her. She hadn’t even thought about it after the debacle when she came home.

“Yes, I remember. How are you?”

“Well, thank you for asking, and you?” Wasn’t that a loaded question, how was she? ‘Half-dead’ as an answer wouldn’t cut it.

“I’m well, thanks, Mr. Palmer. Did you have some good news for me?”
Please god, let him say yes, it would be the only good thing to happen to me in the last twenty-four hours.

“Actually, it depends. I know you requested fifty thousand, but the bank can do 60 percent of that. If you want the full requested amount, the bank would need collateral.”

“But that’s only thirty thousand!” Charli needed the entire amount. The twenty thousand she was now finding herself short of was crucial for her first year in business, could determine the success of her venture. She couldn’t dig any deeper into the stashed money. She was planning on matching her requested amount from the bank with personal funds, but taking too much would be suspicious. Great, she thought.

* * * *

Deven was lying in puddle of sweat and hung over from his day of extravagance. He knew he was sotted and even now the liquor hadn’t fully left his system. He didn’t know where he was or even what time it was. He heard several noises all at once, the sounds all loud in volume, a cacophony ringing around him, and he clenched his head in his hands. Damn, if he didn’t feel like shit. When he opened his eyes again, he could finally focus. He was in his brother’s house, in one of the first-level bedrooms, the blue one. He could smell the liquor on himself, and the bedding beneath him was damp with sweat reeking of stale liquor.

Charyn must have picked him up from the bar. He didn’t remember much from yesterday, just the fact he ended up stranding himself when the Tesla ran out of battery power. When he stood, he noticed that he was stripped to his underwear. Charyn must have heard him stirring and, moments after he pulled on the dank denim from last night, tapped on the door.

“Hey, brother, want something?” Charyn offered Dev a tray, which contained some BC Powders, coffee, and toast. He took the BC dry, two packets, both equally bitter. The coffee was hot, black, and doubly strong, and Dev gulped the brew down even as it burned his mouth. He didn’t feel like eating, so he merely placed the tray to the side.

“Thanks, little brother...”

“Deven, what happened?” Charyn asked, although his face showed he had some idea from the drunken ramblings Deven muttered in the ’cuda last night.

“What do you know already?”

“Well, Bill called at eight and said you were too drunk to walk. That you wrote my name on a piece of paper and he found my number in the phone. When we were on the road, you mentioned Geraldine. Then you said that Charli needed to forgive her.”

Deven told his brother the full story, how Geraldine had come over. He gave him an edited version of the details he was given. The entire sordid tale, and by the time he finished, Dev felt sick again. He walked away from his brother with the plaguing thought that he sorely needed a shower. Charyn must have thought so as he left some towels, clean clothes, and a razor for his big brother on the bathroom sink. Thirty minutes later, Dev found himself wondering where he went wrong. But the answer was simple. When Charli’s mother showed up, there was no way he could control or change the situation at hand. He couldn’t do anything more than what he already did.

He knew that seeing her mother would bring the response it did. But even if he sent the woman away, Geraldine would still lie between their happiness. But it didn’t stop him from wondering what he more he could have done. Deven wondered if Charli had found the ring he had secreted in the cake yet and what she did with it if she had.

Showered and in clean clothes, Deven briskly rubbed a towel over his hair and shook the bulk of it out of his face. By the time he’d sat back on the fresh bedding, his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyway.

“This is Deven.”

“Did you really mean it when you said you would help me?” Deven recognized the voice on the other end of the call, speak of the devil.

“Yeah, I did, still do. Do you really want my help? I can do a lot of things, but I can’t get you clean. Only you can do that.”

“I don’t want to draw my last breath as a junkie. I know that I’ve made mistakes, but I want to live whatever time I have left as a whole person.”

Deven could respect that and asked her, “Where are you now, so I can come and get you?”

“I’m at a Shell gas on Market Street, just up the street from a McDonald’s.”

“I know where that is. It will take a half hour to get to you though.”

“I’ve waited twenty years. Another half hour won’t kill me.”

Deven smiled grimly and disconnected the call. Only problem was he just remembered his car was on the side of the road, hours away at that. He rushed through the house. His brother would just have to pony up the Hummer. Charyn must have heard the commotion as he ran down the stairs meeting him halfway.

“Damn, Dev, where’s the fire?”

“I need your car.”

“Why? Yours is out front. I charged it and everything.”

“Little brother, you make a damn good man.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, you know.”

“That was Geraldine. She accepted my offer to go in for treatment, and I’m about to send her to the rehab facility today.”

Charyn looked shocked. “How about I ride shotgun and we can take the Hummer.”

Deven didn’t respond, just walked to his brother’s garage and climbed in the driver’s seat. The ride was silent, and by the time they reached Market Street, he saw Geraldine seated at a bench with a plastic statue of Ronald McDonald as her only companion. The tableau struck him as sad, pitiful. He stopped and activated the emergency flashers and hopped out, opening the rear passenger door. Charyn was texting when Deven climbed back inside.

Deven decided to call his aunt, a therapist, to get a placement at the best available program. He stopped at the mall, since he knew that he couldn’t send her to rehab with the clothes on her back and nothing else. He left her and Charyn in the car and went inside, walking in the first store he saw. It was a Banana Republic. Deven purchased a fistful of everything. He knew Charli and her mother were probably built similarly, but the drugs made her stature frail. He knew Charli wore a size small, and her jeans were a size five. So he picked up clothing one size smaller. Just a few things, but he needed to get her at least a week’s worth of clothing.

Deven never thought how much went into one outfit. When he bought one thing, he’d see something else she would need to accompany it. There was a jacket he found for the chill spring evenings, shoes, plus some socks that were an impulse buy. They reminded him of Charli, with little monkeys and bananas. Ignoring the streak of pain in his chest at the thought of losing her for good, he finished making purchases. Most of the choices were made so quickly that within fifteen minutes he walked out with a fistful of bags plus five hundred dollars and change lighter in the pocket. Lugging the bags to the back of the Hummer, Deven tossed them inside the trunk. Before he could get inside, his phone rang again. This time he knew the number. It was his auntie Jen.

“This is Deven.”

“Hey, Deven, it’s Jen. I found a program she can go to in Florida. They will have a placement for her tomorrow. The way I’m looking at it, I can get us both a commercial flight and I’ll drop her at the clinic. I want you to bring her to me today. I’ll keep her at my place and administer a round of meds for the DTs. That way she doesn’t have to suffer from the bends too badly tonight. When can you bring her by my house?”

“Well, now is fine with me, but to be honest... she needs a bath. If I give you the money, can you make sure she gets what she needs for the clinic? I already bought clothes, but it’s only enough for maybe a week.”

“That should do just fine. She probably needs a suitcase though. Aside from that, we can put some money in a canteen account so she can have some extras on demand. From the message you left, you’re paying for the entirety of her treatment?”

Deven understood what she was asking, as his normal environment wasn’t conducive to meeting addicts, or sponsoring one.

“She is related to someone very important to me.”

The good doctor went silent. “As long as I have known you, Deven, you’ve never given anyone that much standing…Whoever she is, she is one lucky woman. Will I get to meet her?”

“Really, Aunt Jen, I don’t see that in the cards right now.”

“Yeah, Dev, I don’t think that I believe that yet.”

“Bye, Auntie.” Deven hung up the phone. He didn’t have time for all the extras. Shit, even with the shower he was still rank to the bone from over indulging yesterday.

When he arrived at his Aunt Jen’s house, just off Carolina Beach, she was waiting on her porch. The car smelled of fear, and he knew that Geraldine had reason to be scared. This was going to completely alter her life, and Dev knew grown men that didn’t respond well to change. He could tell Jen was impatient and hankering for an introduction to her newest project. Deven carried the shopping bags inside the historic colonial, leaving the grouping by the open front door. Giving his aunt a hug and kiss on the cheek, he took her by the hand to the Hummer. Charyn hopped out, and Jen opened her arms wide.

“How’s that pretty wife of yours?” Jen had a grin from one ear to the other.

“She’s great.” As usual, Charyn was so proud of his wife and was happy to sing her praises to the world.

“Good! Make sure to bring her by for tea. I haven’t gotten the chance to pick her brain about a redecorating project.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her to give you a call.”

Meanwhile, Deven opened the back door and escorted the mother of the only woman he’d ever loved into the weak sunlight toward the first steps of a brand-new life. Jen walked over as they made their way up the steps and stuck out a hand. Geraldine placed her hand in his aunt’s and shook it, the motion rusty as if she hadn’t seen social niceties in a long time.

The first thing Jen did was ask what would make her more comfortable.

“Can I take a shower?”

“Sure can, lemme show you where it is.” Jen took Geraldine’s arm and walked her back to the guest room she prepped earlier. “Here is your room, and there is a small bath just across the room. There’s everything you could need on the sink.” Jen pointed out a towel, shampoo and conditioner, toothbrush, and the other myriad items needed for a toilette. Deven had taken the bags into the room and sat them on the bed. He walked out with his auntie and shut the door. It was clear that she wanted to talk.

When they sat down in the living room, Jen had to know everything. It must have been the psychiatrist in her.

“What is it, Deven? You could have packed for an overnight trip with those bags under your eyes. You smell like”—she sniffed—“moonshine.”

“I know, but the short version is I got dumped by the woman of my dreams, and that is her mom.” Deven didn’t need her mind to start digging and uncover things best left unsaid. But as he saw the look scroll across her face and Dev knew her mind was working at warp speed.

“So you got drunk as a skunk?”