Friends Like These(77)

“What?” Alice had laughed, sure it was some kind of joke.

“No, it’s true,” I lied. “That’s why— that’s the reason I can’t be better to you. Because I’m in love with someone else.”

Tears flooded her hazel eyes. “Of course you are,” she said finally. “That would make sense.”

“I’m not good for you, anyway,” I offered feebly. And also Alice wasn’t good for me— that was true, too, wasn’t it?

“Right.” Alice had gripped her dance bag against her strong, small body as she blinked back her tears. Already, her face was setting into stone. “Who is— you know what, I don’t even want to know who she is.”

“We shouldn’t be together anyway, Alice,” I added, still afraid I might try to take it back later. Because I did love Alice. I did.

“Okay, fine,” she said with an angry, exaggerated shrug. “Whatever you want, Keith. Whatever.”

And with that, she’d turned and walked away. Six hours later, thanks to me, she’d be dead. And all these years later, I was still letting my friends believe they were as much to blame as me.

I didn’t leave my room at Jonathan’s house until 7:30 p.m. I even pretended to be asleep when the door opened and closed a couple times. I’d found a pad of paper and a pen in the nightstand drawer (of course, only Jonathan), and I wrote a quick note: “You deserve better than Peter. Keith.” There was more I thought about writing to Jonathan, more I could have thanked him for, or apologized for, or tried to explain. But it seemed like too much and not enough. And Jonathan being worth more than Peter was the part he needed to remember.

I headed toward Jonathan’s bedroom, hoping to leave the note somewhere he’d find it later. But the door swung open just as I reached it, and there was Peter, shirtless and in a pair of jeans. Peter was always shirtless.

“What do you want?” he asked— aggressive, loud. Peter was only that way with me, always out of Jonathan’s earshot. Like I was a little kid he could abuse because I’d never be believed. He wasn’t wrong— it had been a justifiably long time since anyone had listened to me. “Oh, wait, let me guess, you’re here for our money? You sure could buy a lot of drugs with twenty thousand dollars.”

“Don’t you mean Jonathan’s money?” I asked. I couldn’t help it.

Peter smiled snidely, stepped back into the room, and slammed the door in my face. So much for my note. I crumpled it in my hand and jammed it in my pocket.

“What was that about?” Derrick asked from behind me.

“Nothing,” I said, turning toward him. “But I’m glad you’re here. I was about to come looking for you.”

Derrick held up his palms like a traffic cop. “No. The answer is no, Keith.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“I don’t need to. My answer is no, whatever it is.”

“Finch called from downtown,” I began. “And he— ”

“Downtown?” he interrupted. “I thought Finch left.”

“Guess not. Anyway, he said he really needs to tell me something.”

“About what?” Derrick asked, nervous now. Probably about being in my crosshairs.

“I have no idea,” I said. “That’s why I need to go talk to him. I just heard he’s moving to a new gallery, so maybe about that.”

“Oh, right,” Derrick said, like this was old news to him.

“Hold up— did you already know that too?” I sounded pissed. I was, a little bit, actually. “Did Finch tell you he was changing representation?”

“Yeah, um, I guess he did. Right after we got here,” Derrick stammered. “It didn’t seem like my place to, you know, get involved.”

I couldn’t actually blame Derrick for that. Still, his guilt was my only angle.

“Get involved?” I snapped. “You’re one of my best friends. You’re always fucking involved.”

“Of course I am. I’m sorry.” Derrick shook his head a little. “I’ve thought for a long time that you and Finch should go your separate ways. It could be a good thing.”

“You still should have told me. Anyway, this isn’t like breaking up with some girl you’ve been dating a few weeks. Finch and me— it’s like dissolving a marriage. There are assets and shit that need to be divided, agreements signed. Which is why I need to go talk to him now and clear things up.” Honestly, it sounded pretty convincing, even to me. “Just take me downtown and drop me off. Come on, you owe me. And if you don’t drive me, I’ll walk— dark roads, drunk drivers. Think of the guilt.”

Derrick glared at me, but finally he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “But I’m staying, and then we’re coming straight back here.”

I nodded and lied in that way that came so easily to me. “You’ve got a deal.”

Derrick wasn’t happy when I said that we were meeting Finch at the Falls. Not that I even knew where I really needed to be yet. But the Falls was at least downtown, so that seemed like a good place to start.

“Finch has just been here all day, hanging out in this bar?” Derrick asked as we were getting out of the car.