Down to You
Page 22
He looks down into my eyes. Neither of us says a word.
He nods and his lips curve into a smile of acceptance rather than humor.
“Good night, Olivia.”
He doesn’t move right away. He just watches me.
Eventually, I nod and slide off his lap, coming to my feet. I walk him to the door and he pulls it open. He turns as if to say something else, but changes his mind. I watch as he disappears into the darkness, not once looking back at me.
********
It’s no wonder I get virtually no sleep. Between finding out that I’ve slept with Nash, feeling worse and worse about making a complete and utter fool of myself with him last night and the predicament I now find myself in, I blow off my Monday classes and head to Cash’s instead. I’m not sure why I feel the need to go to him; maybe it’s a sense that I’ve somehow betrayed him. I don’t know. But I find myself drawn to him for some reason. And I don’t question it. I just go.
I know he’s at least awake, because I saw my car parked at the curb when I looked out the window this morning. My keys were in an envelope in the mailbox.
The first time I came to Dual during the day, Cash was expecting me, so the front door was unlocked. I wondered if that was the case all the time.
Evidently not, I think as I pull on both doors to find them both secured. And I didn’t get a key with my employment because Cash always opens and closes. I mean, why wouldn’t he? He lives behind the bar for Pete’s sake.
I walk around the side of the building. I’m pretty sure there is at least a back door, some way to take out garbage and for Cash to get in and out from wherever he parks that motorcycle of his.
One side of the building has no door, so I continue on around. As I suspected, there is a door at the back. It empties out into the alley where there is a huge trash dumpster against the opposite wall. Unfortunately, the back door is locked, too.
I keep walking, around to the other side of the building, hoping for another door. And I hit pay dirt. There’s a side door. A big one.
It looks like Cash has converted a back corner of the club into an apartment and garage. I can tell by the nature of the wide, roll-up bay-type door. That and the fact that it’s open and his bike is parked inside. That’s kind of a dead giveaway.
I’m a little confused, however, when I see Nash’s car parked inside as well. Or at least it’s a vehicle that looks like Nash’s car.
My stomach twists into a nervous knot. I know they’re not exactly close, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t discuss me. I mean, they very much have me in common! Even more so after recent events.
I feel a little nauseous. I’m debating scampering back to my car when the interior door opens and Cash walks out. He doesn’t see me as he turns immediately to lock the door behind him. He’s also on the phone, which he tucks against his shoulder as he sets the deadbolt.
I can’t help but overhear his end of the conversation.
“Marissa, I told you I had meetings all weekend. There was just no way for me to do that. I didn’t have—”
He stops dead when he turns and sees me standing at the edge of the door. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open and I probably look every bit as confused as I feel.
One question is running on a loop through my mind. Why is Cash talking to Marissa that way? Why is Cash talking to Marissa that way?
We stare at each other for the longest minute of my entire life. It is so quiet in the garage, I can actually hear Marissa repeating Nash’s name over and over and over again.
Finally, without taking his eyes off mine, he addresses her. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.” And he hangs up.
He studies me for so long I begin to think he’s not going to say anything to me at all. But then he does.
“Why don’t you come in? We need to talk.”
My heart is thudding against my ribs. Hard! I was expecting any number of logical explanations. Maybe he was playing a prank. Maybe he was covering something up for Nash. Maybe I just misunderstood something. But the way Cash is watching me makes me think something is very, very wrong. And that I’m not going to like it.
I think of leaving. Of just walking right back to my car. These boys have been trouble for me from day one. If I was smart, I’d turn around and never look back.
But I know why I can’t. Even as the thought runs through my head, the thought of never seeing Cash again cuts through my chest like a knife blade. I feel the pain of it, the devastation of it. The life-changing wound of it. I feel everything but the blood, the blood that should be soaking my clothes.
I nod once and walk slowly, numbly across the polished floor to where he’s holding the now-open door for me.
I feel like I’m going to an execution.
Of my heart and my trust maybe.
And that’s pretty much right.
CHAPTER THIRTY - Cash
My pulse is racing. Just the thought of coming clean, of telling any one person all my secrets scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure why I’m going to tell Olivia. I just know that I am. That I have to. I have to trust her if I ever expect her to trust me. The thing is, I still haven’t figured out why that matters so much to me. Why I even care.
But I do. A whole hell of a lot.
She knows something’s up. She looks like she’s walking the plank and there are sharks in the water. I guess, in a way, there are. If one could consider me and my family’s history sharks.
I don’t even really see the mess I left in my apartment last night. When I got back from Olivia’s I shed my suit and left it crumpled in the floor right before I re-dressed as myself and went out to close up the club. Afterward, I’d fallen onto the bed, face first, and slept like the dead. Until Jake had come pounding at my door this morning, ready to deliver Olivia’s car. This double life thing is for the birds!
And now here I am, getting ready to tell someone, a girl who I haven’t known very long at all, my deepest, darkest, dirtiest, most dangerous secret. And the only thing I’m worried about is whether or not she’ll ever want to see me again. How’s that for crazy?
“Do you want something to drink? I just turned the coffee pot off, so it’s still hot.”
She’s looking around in a daze, no doubt trying to fit the pieces into the puzzle. But she won’t. Never in a thousand years would she ever guess. Unless I tell her.
“Olivia, have a seat on the couch. I’ll bring you some coffee. Then we’ll talk.”
I think she needs it more than I do, which is saying a lot. I pour us both a mug of coffee and run some hot water in the empty decanter, setting it back on the warmer until I can wash it out later. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. Some housekeeping things just come naturally at this point.
I hand her a cup and sit in the chair opposite her. I don’t want to crowd her and make what I’m about to say any worse. She’ll probably need a little space, a little distance after she hears it.
It surprises me when she speaks first. I don’t know why it would, though. Her backbone is obviously pretty sturdy. She just doesn’t always tap into it. But when she needs to, it’s there.
Like now.
“I don’t like games. I don’t like lies. Just tell me what’s going on. The truth.”
Her face is set. She’s braced herself. I guess if ever there’s a good time to drop a bomb like this, now’s probably it.
“All I ask is that you give me a chance to fully explain. Don’t go running off without hearing the whole story. Deal?”
She doesn’t agree immediately, which makes me a little nervous. But when she does, I know she means it.
“Deal.”
I wonder for a second whether or not I should tell her that repeating what she’s about to hear would be disastrous, but I decide against it. That’s like implying right off the bat that I don’t trust her, which I do. It’s just that I’ve never trusted anybody—anybody—with this before. I’m sure it’s natural to be a little leery.
“I’m Cash.”
Olivia just stares at me for a few seconds. I can only imagine how her mind must be spinning.
“I know that,” she says calmly. “But I want to know why were you acting like Nash?”
“Because I’m Nash, too.”
Her blank look says I just totally confused her, totally boggled her mind.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I know she will never be able to fully fathom what’s going on unless I explain it to her from the beginning.
Here goes.
“My father got mixed up with some pretty…unsavory people when he was younger, trying to make some extra money to help support his family. They were very poor. But this was all before he met my mother.” I laugh bitterly. “Turns out once you’re connected with people like that, you can never truly escape. I think, on some level, he knew that. But he tried anyway. And when he did, they decided to impress upon him what a bad idea it was to try and leave. These people make their points in truly…unforgettable ways. This time it was to tamper with Dad’s boat.”
Olivia is watching me closely, listening. I have no idea if she believes a word I’m saying, but I’m not stopping now. I’m going to tell her the whole story. Right now. No more secrets.
“We were going on a family vacation. Over Christmas break. Just a short trip, really. My mother and brother had gone down a little early to take some supplies. No one thought they’d be on the boat that soon. There was an explosion. They were both killed. And burned up in the fire. ”
Her face shows no sign of any kind of reaction for at least two full minutes. I don’t say a word as she digests what I’ve told her so far. I can tell the instant it sinks in. Every bit of color drains from her face.
“Was your brother a twin? Was he really named Nash?”
“Yes.”
I hear her exhale. The breath is shaky, as are her hands where she’s picking at her fingernails.
“So there was a Nash, but I’ve never met him,” she states calmly. Maybe a little too calmly.
“Correct.”
“So all this time, you’ve been pretending to be your brother.”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“The people my father was involved with had set up several things that would cast suspicion on him. They called him with a warning right before they blew up the boat. Told him if he ever tried to rat them out, they’d kill everyone he ever knew or loved. At the time, they didn’t realize Mom and Nash were on the boat.
“We tried to get in touch with my mother, but couldn’t. By the time we got there, the boat was already in pieces all over the bay. Not only did we both have to deal with the murder of Mom and Nash, but we both knew he’d go to prison, at the very least for something like negligent homicide. And it would only add to the sentence if there were two deaths pinned on him. That’s when I decided to be both of us. If Nash had survived, Dad would only be supposedly guilty of one murder. There wasn’t much else I could do, but I thought I could pull that much off. And I did. I guess in a way we were lucky that only a few of my mother’s remains survived the fire.”
“And this was how long ago?”
“Seven years ago. December of my senior year of high school.”
She looks suspicious. Incredulous, too, but mostly suspicious.
“And no one was the wiser? How is that even possible?”
I know my laugh is bitter. She’ll enjoy this part.
“You were right about me. I was always the bad boy, the rebel. I dropped out of high school after my junior year. I wanted to run this club that my father just bought and I knew I didn’t need a diploma for that.”
She raises her eyebrows. “This club?”
I nod.
“Nash was always the clean-cut, jock, honor student type. He was going places and everybody in the family knew it. Hell, everybody that knew him knew it. They would never have suspected for one second that it was me coming to class in his place. Me making the grades. Me picking up his diploma. Me going off to college. No one expected much of anything from me. Well, nothing but a life of quasi-crime, like my father. All I had to do was show up at a party occasionally and show my ass so people wouldn’t forget that I was alive, too, then the focus would go back to Nash. It was easy. People wanted to forget me.”
I can’t keep all the bitterness I’ve buried for so long from leeching out into my voice. It’s almost like I want her to see it, want her to feel it. Like her knowing will somehow make it less painful. I don’t know why that is, what it is about this girl that makes a difference, but instinctively I know it does. She does.
“So all this time, you’ve been leading two separate lives. Lying to everyone in the world. Including the police.”
My stomach feels hollow at her words. “Yes.”
Of all the pain I’ve endured, I think what actually hurts the most is the disgust I see on her face.
“Why? How? How could you do that? To the living, but also to the memory of the dead?”
I feel tired. So tired. Suddenly, the toll of this life and the deception of it feels like a freight train sitting on my chest.
“I lost everything in that explosion. Everyone I ever loved was taken from me. Everything I called ‘home’ was gone in the blink of an eye. I thought the least I could do was bring some kind of honor to their memory.”
“This is how you honor their memory?”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose, wishing I could curtail the increasing throb I feel behind my eyes. “It’s kind of hard to explain. Both my parents wanted nothing more than for Nash and me to make something of ourselves. Anything would’ve been better than to follow in our father’s footsteps. And Nash was brilliant. He had so much ahead of him. So much more than I did. It just didn’t seem right that he would be the one to end up dead. I did the best I could to make my parents proud and to give Nash the name and the reputation that he deserved. That he would’ve had if he were alive.”
He nods and his lips curve into a smile of acceptance rather than humor.
“Good night, Olivia.”
He doesn’t move right away. He just watches me.
Eventually, I nod and slide off his lap, coming to my feet. I walk him to the door and he pulls it open. He turns as if to say something else, but changes his mind. I watch as he disappears into the darkness, not once looking back at me.
********
It’s no wonder I get virtually no sleep. Between finding out that I’ve slept with Nash, feeling worse and worse about making a complete and utter fool of myself with him last night and the predicament I now find myself in, I blow off my Monday classes and head to Cash’s instead. I’m not sure why I feel the need to go to him; maybe it’s a sense that I’ve somehow betrayed him. I don’t know. But I find myself drawn to him for some reason. And I don’t question it. I just go.
I know he’s at least awake, because I saw my car parked at the curb when I looked out the window this morning. My keys were in an envelope in the mailbox.
The first time I came to Dual during the day, Cash was expecting me, so the front door was unlocked. I wondered if that was the case all the time.
Evidently not, I think as I pull on both doors to find them both secured. And I didn’t get a key with my employment because Cash always opens and closes. I mean, why wouldn’t he? He lives behind the bar for Pete’s sake.
I walk around the side of the building. I’m pretty sure there is at least a back door, some way to take out garbage and for Cash to get in and out from wherever he parks that motorcycle of his.
One side of the building has no door, so I continue on around. As I suspected, there is a door at the back. It empties out into the alley where there is a huge trash dumpster against the opposite wall. Unfortunately, the back door is locked, too.
I keep walking, around to the other side of the building, hoping for another door. And I hit pay dirt. There’s a side door. A big one.
It looks like Cash has converted a back corner of the club into an apartment and garage. I can tell by the nature of the wide, roll-up bay-type door. That and the fact that it’s open and his bike is parked inside. That’s kind of a dead giveaway.
I’m a little confused, however, when I see Nash’s car parked inside as well. Or at least it’s a vehicle that looks like Nash’s car.
My stomach twists into a nervous knot. I know they’re not exactly close, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t discuss me. I mean, they very much have me in common! Even more so after recent events.
I feel a little nauseous. I’m debating scampering back to my car when the interior door opens and Cash walks out. He doesn’t see me as he turns immediately to lock the door behind him. He’s also on the phone, which he tucks against his shoulder as he sets the deadbolt.
I can’t help but overhear his end of the conversation.
“Marissa, I told you I had meetings all weekend. There was just no way for me to do that. I didn’t have—”
He stops dead when he turns and sees me standing at the edge of the door. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open and I probably look every bit as confused as I feel.
One question is running on a loop through my mind. Why is Cash talking to Marissa that way? Why is Cash talking to Marissa that way?
We stare at each other for the longest minute of my entire life. It is so quiet in the garage, I can actually hear Marissa repeating Nash’s name over and over and over again.
Finally, without taking his eyes off mine, he addresses her. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.” And he hangs up.
He studies me for so long I begin to think he’s not going to say anything to me at all. But then he does.
“Why don’t you come in? We need to talk.”
My heart is thudding against my ribs. Hard! I was expecting any number of logical explanations. Maybe he was playing a prank. Maybe he was covering something up for Nash. Maybe I just misunderstood something. But the way Cash is watching me makes me think something is very, very wrong. And that I’m not going to like it.
I think of leaving. Of just walking right back to my car. These boys have been trouble for me from day one. If I was smart, I’d turn around and never look back.
But I know why I can’t. Even as the thought runs through my head, the thought of never seeing Cash again cuts through my chest like a knife blade. I feel the pain of it, the devastation of it. The life-changing wound of it. I feel everything but the blood, the blood that should be soaking my clothes.
I nod once and walk slowly, numbly across the polished floor to where he’s holding the now-open door for me.
I feel like I’m going to an execution.
Of my heart and my trust maybe.
And that’s pretty much right.
CHAPTER THIRTY - Cash
My pulse is racing. Just the thought of coming clean, of telling any one person all my secrets scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure why I’m going to tell Olivia. I just know that I am. That I have to. I have to trust her if I ever expect her to trust me. The thing is, I still haven’t figured out why that matters so much to me. Why I even care.
But I do. A whole hell of a lot.
She knows something’s up. She looks like she’s walking the plank and there are sharks in the water. I guess, in a way, there are. If one could consider me and my family’s history sharks.
I don’t even really see the mess I left in my apartment last night. When I got back from Olivia’s I shed my suit and left it crumpled in the floor right before I re-dressed as myself and went out to close up the club. Afterward, I’d fallen onto the bed, face first, and slept like the dead. Until Jake had come pounding at my door this morning, ready to deliver Olivia’s car. This double life thing is for the birds!
And now here I am, getting ready to tell someone, a girl who I haven’t known very long at all, my deepest, darkest, dirtiest, most dangerous secret. And the only thing I’m worried about is whether or not she’ll ever want to see me again. How’s that for crazy?
“Do you want something to drink? I just turned the coffee pot off, so it’s still hot.”
She’s looking around in a daze, no doubt trying to fit the pieces into the puzzle. But she won’t. Never in a thousand years would she ever guess. Unless I tell her.
“Olivia, have a seat on the couch. I’ll bring you some coffee. Then we’ll talk.”
I think she needs it more than I do, which is saying a lot. I pour us both a mug of coffee and run some hot water in the empty decanter, setting it back on the warmer until I can wash it out later. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. Some housekeeping things just come naturally at this point.
I hand her a cup and sit in the chair opposite her. I don’t want to crowd her and make what I’m about to say any worse. She’ll probably need a little space, a little distance after she hears it.
It surprises me when she speaks first. I don’t know why it would, though. Her backbone is obviously pretty sturdy. She just doesn’t always tap into it. But when she needs to, it’s there.
Like now.
“I don’t like games. I don’t like lies. Just tell me what’s going on. The truth.”
Her face is set. She’s braced herself. I guess if ever there’s a good time to drop a bomb like this, now’s probably it.
“All I ask is that you give me a chance to fully explain. Don’t go running off without hearing the whole story. Deal?”
She doesn’t agree immediately, which makes me a little nervous. But when she does, I know she means it.
“Deal.”
I wonder for a second whether or not I should tell her that repeating what she’s about to hear would be disastrous, but I decide against it. That’s like implying right off the bat that I don’t trust her, which I do. It’s just that I’ve never trusted anybody—anybody—with this before. I’m sure it’s natural to be a little leery.
“I’m Cash.”
Olivia just stares at me for a few seconds. I can only imagine how her mind must be spinning.
“I know that,” she says calmly. “But I want to know why were you acting like Nash?”
“Because I’m Nash, too.”
Her blank look says I just totally confused her, totally boggled her mind.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I know she will never be able to fully fathom what’s going on unless I explain it to her from the beginning.
Here goes.
“My father got mixed up with some pretty…unsavory people when he was younger, trying to make some extra money to help support his family. They were very poor. But this was all before he met my mother.” I laugh bitterly. “Turns out once you’re connected with people like that, you can never truly escape. I think, on some level, he knew that. But he tried anyway. And when he did, they decided to impress upon him what a bad idea it was to try and leave. These people make their points in truly…unforgettable ways. This time it was to tamper with Dad’s boat.”
Olivia is watching me closely, listening. I have no idea if she believes a word I’m saying, but I’m not stopping now. I’m going to tell her the whole story. Right now. No more secrets.
“We were going on a family vacation. Over Christmas break. Just a short trip, really. My mother and brother had gone down a little early to take some supplies. No one thought they’d be on the boat that soon. There was an explosion. They were both killed. And burned up in the fire. ”
Her face shows no sign of any kind of reaction for at least two full minutes. I don’t say a word as she digests what I’ve told her so far. I can tell the instant it sinks in. Every bit of color drains from her face.
“Was your brother a twin? Was he really named Nash?”
“Yes.”
I hear her exhale. The breath is shaky, as are her hands where she’s picking at her fingernails.
“So there was a Nash, but I’ve never met him,” she states calmly. Maybe a little too calmly.
“Correct.”
“So all this time, you’ve been pretending to be your brother.”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“The people my father was involved with had set up several things that would cast suspicion on him. They called him with a warning right before they blew up the boat. Told him if he ever tried to rat them out, they’d kill everyone he ever knew or loved. At the time, they didn’t realize Mom and Nash were on the boat.
“We tried to get in touch with my mother, but couldn’t. By the time we got there, the boat was already in pieces all over the bay. Not only did we both have to deal with the murder of Mom and Nash, but we both knew he’d go to prison, at the very least for something like negligent homicide. And it would only add to the sentence if there were two deaths pinned on him. That’s when I decided to be both of us. If Nash had survived, Dad would only be supposedly guilty of one murder. There wasn’t much else I could do, but I thought I could pull that much off. And I did. I guess in a way we were lucky that only a few of my mother’s remains survived the fire.”
“And this was how long ago?”
“Seven years ago. December of my senior year of high school.”
She looks suspicious. Incredulous, too, but mostly suspicious.
“And no one was the wiser? How is that even possible?”
I know my laugh is bitter. She’ll enjoy this part.
“You were right about me. I was always the bad boy, the rebel. I dropped out of high school after my junior year. I wanted to run this club that my father just bought and I knew I didn’t need a diploma for that.”
She raises her eyebrows. “This club?”
I nod.
“Nash was always the clean-cut, jock, honor student type. He was going places and everybody in the family knew it. Hell, everybody that knew him knew it. They would never have suspected for one second that it was me coming to class in his place. Me making the grades. Me picking up his diploma. Me going off to college. No one expected much of anything from me. Well, nothing but a life of quasi-crime, like my father. All I had to do was show up at a party occasionally and show my ass so people wouldn’t forget that I was alive, too, then the focus would go back to Nash. It was easy. People wanted to forget me.”
I can’t keep all the bitterness I’ve buried for so long from leeching out into my voice. It’s almost like I want her to see it, want her to feel it. Like her knowing will somehow make it less painful. I don’t know why that is, what it is about this girl that makes a difference, but instinctively I know it does. She does.
“So all this time, you’ve been leading two separate lives. Lying to everyone in the world. Including the police.”
My stomach feels hollow at her words. “Yes.”
Of all the pain I’ve endured, I think what actually hurts the most is the disgust I see on her face.
“Why? How? How could you do that? To the living, but also to the memory of the dead?”
I feel tired. So tired. Suddenly, the toll of this life and the deception of it feels like a freight train sitting on my chest.
“I lost everything in that explosion. Everyone I ever loved was taken from me. Everything I called ‘home’ was gone in the blink of an eye. I thought the least I could do was bring some kind of honor to their memory.”
“This is how you honor their memory?”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose, wishing I could curtail the increasing throb I feel behind my eyes. “It’s kind of hard to explain. Both my parents wanted nothing more than for Nash and me to make something of ourselves. Anything would’ve been better than to follow in our father’s footsteps. And Nash was brilliant. He had so much ahead of him. So much more than I did. It just didn’t seem right that he would be the one to end up dead. I did the best I could to make my parents proud and to give Nash the name and the reputation that he deserved. That he would’ve had if he were alive.”
