31. Relic

Chapter thirty-one

Relic

I 'm true to my word, regardless of my anger and frustration with Marsh, so I sat in a foldable camping chair on the barely-there grass eaten up by the summer heat and chatted with Marsh's mom, Gillian. She sat in a similar chair under the shade of a diseased oak that maybe had one more season left before a spring storm knocked it down. She looked bad, and I hated it. Rail thin, skin so translucent I could see the blue of her veins, and so damn weak the cup in her hand shook as she drank.

She placed the plastic cup in the holder of her chair and gave me a ghost of that kind smile she'd had for me since I was a kid. "How are you doing, Relic?"

Better than her. "Good. Working. Keeping busy. You?"

"You already know the answer to that." That was Gillian, no bullshitting. "Marshall says you have a girl."

I did, but I had no intention of giving Marsh more ammunition in his war against Macie. "We're friends."

"Marsh won't say it, but I get the feeling that you and Marshall had a falling out over this girl, so that leads me to believe she's more than a friend."

I leaned forward in the chair, rested my elbows on my legs, and rubbed my hands together. I came by to try to cheer Gillian up, not get bitched out. Normally, I took no one's shit, Gillian's included, but I loved her, and she was broke in the commodity of time. Gillian was one those people you had to talk and listen to with no regrets.

"He thinks she's bad news for me because she's a smart, rich girl, and he's angry I won't give her up." I didn't need to dog him out to his mom that he tried to drive Macie away by hurting her and me.

"Is she bad news?"

I shrugged a maybe. I was falling for her, hard, but I could make Macie and me work. I needed to believe this. I needed her light in my life. "Nothing in comparison to Dad being back in the house and Eric stalking me in my living room every other day."

She bobbed her head in a, "That's fair," then we both watched as a redbird perched on a nearby limb. After it assessed us, it fluttered away. Gillian stared at me like she had something bad to say, and I allowed her the time to gather her words. I wished it were two years ago, and we were wasting time laughing in her kitchen as she made me no-bake cookies—my favorite.

"My son is working for Eric, isn't he?" she pressed, and I glanced away. How the hell was I to answer this? Did I lie to a dying woman? Did I keep my loyalty to my friend and keep his secret? Did I tell her the truth she already knew and make her feel worse? Or would she hate me for lying?

Her sigh was so heavy it hurt my head.

"You have to get him out, Relic." She sounded so damn tired, the type of exhaustion sleep could never help.

"I never said he was working for Eric." I didn't say he wasn't, either.

"Marshall is paying the mortgage, keeping the lights on, and there is food on my table that doesn't come from the Game Place. Minimum wage doesn't do that."

Couldn't argue with her there, as the lights were officially off at my place. I wanted to tell Gillian I would yank Marsh out by the scruff of his neck, but I couldn't. First, Marsh had to want to leave. Second, there was no way Eric would let him go. The screen door squeaked open, and Marsh walked outside. He and I glared at one another the way brothers do when they're mad.

Gillian stood from her chair, and she painstakingly walked to her son. She placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Make it right with your best friend." Then, with a pointed look at me, "Same to you."

She went inside while and Marsh and I wallowed in anger and silence.

"You ready to talk to me?" Marsh said with accusation.

No, but I would. I stood. "We can walk."

Marsh and I had done this since forever—walk. When I was mad, when he was angry, when the emotions of our lives were too much and words pissed us off more, we walked. Side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Letting the other know through all the noise and chaos they weren't alone.

In the blazing summer sun, we walked what had to be a mile or two. Through the winding roads of the neighborhood. Up hills, down them, and we found ourselves at the creek at the back of the subdivision, the one near the freeway. As tractor trailers blew past, the aging metal fence separating us from the expressway rattled.

Trash, a few condoms, and used needles littered the banks of the almost dried up creek. Just a trickle of water flowing over the stones worn by years and years of runoff. Marsh and I used to catch crayfish here when we were younger. Used to think maybe the world would be different for us than our parents.

"Your mom wants me to convince you to stop working for Eric," I said.

Marsh didn't look surprised, only hung his head like he was sad. Disappointed… Like he hated himself and his life. "I'm in too deep now."

Fuck that. "What if you did stop?"

His troubled eyes met mine. "Then how I am going to pay for anything? Even though medical says they can't deny you care, they do. You don't pay, they treat you different. They'll put a Band-Aid on the sliced open artery, but they won't stop the blood from coming out. They'll do enough to keep you alive, but nothing to save you. You and I know this world is only about money."

I couldn't argue with him there, but… "Your mom wants you safe and alive. Don't make her last days spent worrying about you. You'll regret that."

"All I am is regrets," he said. "That's why I push you so hard. I don't want you to be me. I don't want you to regret a thing." A pause, and then he said, "I'm sorry about Macie. More than you know." It shook me how grief-stricken he sounded. "What can I do to make it up to her? To you?"

The way he looked at me, as if he needed this absolution, made me want to give it to him in spades. "Help me find who carjacked her."

"How?" he spat with anger. "Do I look like a detective to you?"

"Fifty thousand dollars, Marsh. You help me, we get that reward. Then me, you, Camila, Lyra, your mom—we get out of this neighborhood. We move as far as we need to be free of Eric. We find a place, live together, and start from scratch."

He stared at the dry creek bed. "You're out of your mind."

"Just thinking outside the box. We get away from Eric and start all over again."

"You going to leave Macie high and dry for me?"

Pain in my chest as I hadn't thought about that, but what good could I be to Macie or anyone so long as Eric had me pinned? "That's my worry. Not yours."

After a few moments of silence, he said, "What do you want me to do?"

"I have a yearbook. I'm around enough to know who's associated with which gangs, but you and I know that doesn't mean a carjacking. People from the streets look at me and, by default, see Eric. But that association doesn't mean shit because I won't work for him. You're inside now. You know better than I do who in the other gangs are actually lifting cars and which are byproducts like me. Narrow the list for me and I'll take care of the rest."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Relic."

"No more dangerous than Dad not paying his debt and me in Eric's crosshairs."

"What makes you think the person you're hunting is in a high school yearbook?"

I hesitated, feeling a twisting inside me at breaking Macie's trust, but this was Marsh, my best friend, my brother. If I couldn't trust him, I could trust no one. "Because whoever did it called her by name. They know her, Marsh."

His head tilted, surprised. "Macie's talking?"

Barely. "You asked how to make it up to me and her. This is it. Will you help me?"

Marsh nodded before saying, "Give me the yearbook."