I stopped in the library parking lot, my headlights reflecting off the wall where Charlie and I had carved our names.
I turned off the car, climbed into the backseat, and curled up into myself. I probably wouldn’t sleep, but at least I’d be safe—for now.
Chapter Twelve
I awoke to Charlie.
Sitting primly beside me, he laughed at my surprise.
“You really thought you could escape?”
All suited up, he took my hand and tugged me along, out of the car and to the trunk.
“You should’ve believed me. I told you I’d never change.”
He opened the trunk to show Brock. He was wide awake and staring at me with that same accusing expression. The bullet wound in his forehead didn’t stop him from blinking every so often.
“Poor guy. Should’ve given him a chance. People aren’t always how they seem, you know.” Charlie’s mocking hiss jarred me out of my reverie.
I turned to see Charlie scratching at a scab on his nose that hadn’t been there before with newly yellowed hands. His eyes were bloodshot and his yellowed hands grabbed me and shook me over and over again.
“You should have believed me. I told you I’d never change—never, never, never, never, never.”
I was shaking back and forth with the “never” when my eyes snapped open.
I scrambled to sit up, looking left and then right, even then not able to fully admit to myself that it had just been a dream. No, I had to get out of the car, stride to the trunk, open it, and stare into the emptiness before I could confirm that the whole episode with Charlie and Brock hadn’t been real.
And yet, the unreal dream had had some real effects. Charlie had said what I had known already, what I had been unwilling to say myself: Despite Russell Snow’s claims, Brock Anderson was a good man. I had made a mistake, and now I was going to right it.
I drove to Tiffany’s.
Seeing me at the door, she immediately asked, horrified, “Oh God, what’s wrong?”
“It’s a long story,” I said.
She flung the front door open, spread her arms, and let me in.
Tiffany’s house was a meditative exercise in relaxation. She seated me in the well-named Blue Room on a cobalt, velvet divan before scurrying off to make tea.
While she was gone, I studied the familiar room, its sky-blue wallpaper, sapphire-studded lamps, and cyan pottery. Every blue item had its blue place. How could I tell Tiffany what I’d done? She would never understand me sleeping with a man I had barely known, taking a job I had immediately sensed was no good. And yet…maybe she would.
On the couch across from me was an afghan. It was the black silk one left over from when the room was black, the year my colorful, vibrant friend had become a darkened shell of herself. The disappearing boyfriend and his baby were nothing more than a sad memory, now that she had a doting husband and a wonderful life. Tiffany had made mistakes too. Maybe she could understand.
The well-chosen blueberry tea coaxed it out of me. Her red head tilted to the side, her mouth gaped into a small “o,” Tiffany sat there silently while I told her everything. I told her about the job, Russell Snow, Brock Anderson, what I had done, and how I felt about it.
At the mention of avoiding Charlie, however, Tiffany could stay silent no more.
“Oh, Alex, I’m so glad!”
She pulled me into a pink taffeta hug.
“Kyle and I—that man came here too. We’ve been so worried. You should get a restraining order.”
I nodded, my gaze flicking to a blue stack of books on her shelf: Wuthering Heights, Romeo and Juliet, and Jane Eyre.
“Maybe, but that’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Oh?”
“Brock Anderson. I really like him, Tiffany. He was a good man, and I may have just ruined his life.”
At this, Tiffany shook her head, each twist sending rivulets of red curls into their own wild shakes.
“No. No way, Alex. He ruined his own life when he decided to be a criminal.”
I shook my head.
“No. You didn’t understand, Tiff. It was his friend that got him into that whole world. And besides, he was on his way out when I encountered him.”
Tiffany’s stern look was as firm as ever.
“You don’t know that. Some people don’t change even when they say they’re going to.”
At her allusion to Charlie, I fell silent. I didn’t need to be reminded of another one of my mistakes.