Cabin Fever(68)
“Not good. But I don’t want to talk about that yet.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I want to talk about that guy.”
Jeremy sighs loud and long. “Can we just drop it?”
“You said in your note that I’m a good friend.” I have a hand on my hip, ready to lecture him.
“Yes. So?”
“So? Would a true good friend let that situation slide?”
“Yes.”
“Be honest.”
“I’d rather talk about your painting.” I can tell his resistance is crumbling because he’s trying to trick me with his cutie-pie voice.
Time for some tough love. “Later. Tell me who the guy is or I’m hanging up.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I SIT ON THE KITCHEN stool and stare out the window, waiting for Jeremy to come to terms with the fact that I really am a good friend and I’m not going to walk away when things get difficult or weird.
“Okay, you really want to know? I’ll tell you. That guy was my dealer.”
My heart hurts at that admission. Is he going to use drugs again already? I latch onto the one bit of hope his sentence contained.
“Was? As in past tense? Used to be, but isn’t anymore?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Then what’s he doing at your house? Are you at your house? Where are you?”
“I’m at one of my houses. A rehab I’d started and kind of left. He’s found me here before.”
“So, what’s he doing there with you if you’ve quit?”
“He’s not on board with me quitting, let’s put it that way.”
Anger boils up inside me and threatens to explode, but I do my best to keep it cool. “Well, that’s not his decision, is it?”
“No. But trust me when I tell you that he can be very convincing when he wants to be.”
“When he wants your money, you mean.”
“Yeah, sure. I’m not under any illusions it’s anything else. We’re not friends.”
“How much did he used to make off you?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. Say it anyway.” I cross my arm under the one holding the phone, waiting for the horrible answer.
“About three grand a week. Maybe more.”
My head drops as I think about how much I could be doing with that kind of money. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s disgusting.”
“Did you get rid of him?” My fingers drum the counter now as my impatience grows. I worry that with him being so far away, whatever good influence I’ve had on him with disappear like smoke on a windy day.
“For now. But he’ll be back.”
“So you need to go. Don’t be there.”
Jeremy sighs, but he doesn’t say anything in response. I find myself pleading.
“Jeremy, please. Don’t go back to the drugs or the booze. Your life is so much better without all that.”
“I don’t know,” he says, sounding depressed.
“Of course you know! Don’t be stupid!”
“When I was with you, yes. I agree. Life seemed better without the numbing effects. But now that I’m back here, I’m not so sure.”
“Is it Manhattan? Is it a bad influence on you? All the traffic and the energy and the noise?”
“I don’t think so. I did plenty of drugs in the cabin. And you saw the bottles.”
“Yes, I saw the bottles. I’ll never forget that. You’re better than that, Jeremy. You don’t need that stuff. It turns you into a jerk.”
“A jerk?” He laughs. “That’s harsh.”
“That’s the truth. Now, you need to get a grip on yourself. Have you seen your brother or sister yet?”
“No.”
“Cassie?”
“No.”
“Anyone besides your drug dealer?”
“No, I just got here. Relax.”
My eyes bug out. “Did you just tell me to relax?”
He laughs again. “Um, yeah. Maybe.”
“Don’t ever do that again. It has the opposite effect, trust me.”
“I do trust you.” His voice has gone serious and softer. “I really do.”
I chew on my lip as I consider my next words. Should I tell him what’s happened here at the cabin? Do I want to resurrect the ghost of his wife just as he seems to be letting her go a little?