9. Relic

Chapter nine

Relic

M y current no win choice: should I pay the electric bill or the cellphone bill? Because I didn't have money for both. Electricity might be cut off first, as I'd neglected that bill the most, but I couldn't sleep at night with the phones turned off. On the flip side, Camila's asthma would flare without the air conditioner. Open windows beckoned her allergies. But I needed to know if Camila or Lyra had problems and needed me.

Electric bill got the short straw. We'd roast, but we had lived without electricity during the summer before. Winter without power was a damn mind fuck. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

"Got my back?" I said to Marsh as I did my last sweep of the area. It was Sunday night, the evening before the early morning trash pickup for the electronic store's Dumpster. We had two potential dangers lurking for us on the street—the cops and other Dumpster divers who got chainsaw-wielding pissed if you touched what they believed was their territory.

"Always do," he said, and as one synchronized unit, we moved from the shadows of the building across the street for the Dumpster. Once we got there, I zipped up the oversized welding jacket I had found in the garbage last year, and then I put on the welding gloves. Dumpster diving required thick extra layers for safety, so I got prepared to swelter in my jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt. The pair of very used steel-toe boots I'd bought off a guy at work for five dollars had my feet sweating, too. Dumpsters had their fair share of jagged glass, sharp metal, and used junkie needles.

"We'd cover a lot more ground faster if you'd let me jump in with you," Marsh said.

"If we gotta bail quick, that arm's still weak, and you won't climb out fast enough. I can't take the risk of us getting caught." Because I'd never leave him behind.

Dumpster diving lived in that morally gray area between legal and illegal. Technically, trash was fair game to anyone; even police searching for evidence didn't need a warrant to search trash. But going through someone's trash on their private property could be considered trespassing. Stores didn't like us Dumpster divers, but the cops' hands were tied because we weren't on the store's specific property. As I said, morally gray.

I climbed the Dumpster, ignored the gag-inducing stench, used my phone light to spot a landing area, and went in feet first. I moved around, letting whatever animal squatting know I was here and that now was the time to leave. I'd come across cats, dogs, squirrels, raccoons, possums, snakes, rats (I fucking hated rats), and one time a devil-possessed rooster. I don't know how the hell that monster ended up in a Dumpster, but when the feathers started flying, I saw my literal life flash before my eyes.

A bird flew out, and my heart skipped two beats. Then I swept the area with my light, searching for electronics or anything else I could salvage and sell online for quick extra cash.

Mostly trash bags on top, which meant I was going to have to dig.

I paused with each trash bag, weighing it in my hand before separating the nope bags from the possible bags. Long ago, I'd developed "the touch"—my way of figuring out which ones were trash and which ones might contain gold. I was searching for "busted" electronics that the store tossed. Some were damaged in shipping, some got damaged in the store, some were returns from customers, and some were devices customers brought in for the company to recycle. No, none of these should have made their way to the Dumpster. But they did. All thanks to the poor employees who made barely minimum wage while being yelled at by asshole customers before then being demeaned by asshole managers. Thankfully for me, they didn't give two shits about what happened to the electronics at the end of their shifts.

"What's up with you and Macie Hutchins?" Marsh asked as I dug.

"Nothing." While Marsh was my best friend, no part of me wanted to talk Macie. Since February, people gossiped about her nonstop. She was a walking, talking interstate pileup everyone wanted to gawp at—the girl who survived the violent carjacking.

"It's obvious she must be in your group therapy as she gave you a ride home the other day. Then you two hung out at the party, then you helped her get Drunk-ana home for the night, and now she's gotten you the job."

"We're helping each other out."

"So, you haven't noticed she's pretty?"

Oh, I'd noticed. Not just that she was pretty, but gorgeous, sexy, and had an adorable mouth I'd love to kiss. And she smelled good, like roses in the spring. Each and every time I saw her, I became mesmerized by her beauty and dreamed about placing my hand on that tempting curve of her waist and drawing her body close to mine. I wanted to feel her heat, I wanted that soft body under mine. I wanted her, but what shook me more was that I liked how she laughed, liked it when I made her smile, loved when she was smiling at me.

Marsh chuckled as if he knew my internal thoughts, and that made me want to punch him in the face.

"Does she know you've had a crush on her since freshman year?" he pushed.

"Did you accidentally touch a hallucinogen? Is your brain okay?"

"Don't deny it. I sat next to you in Spanish class and every damn day she came in, you stopped what you were doing to watch her."

"I can bring some of this trash home," I countered casually. "Maybe pour a layer of it onto your bed."

Marsh laughed deeply because he enjoyed busting my balls and getting a reaction out of me. Enjoying the sound, I smiled on the inside. Since Eric had him roughed up this winter, he hadn't laughed often.

"That friend of Macie's?" Marsh said, "Gianna. She's not much of a friend."

He could say that again. What type of friend drags you out knowing you can't drive then gets smashed? There's code, and you stick to it. Marsh and I would never do each other dirty.

"People wanted details about the carjacking, so as soon as Macie went out back to talk to you, everyone started asking Gianna questions—and that girl sang."

My gaze shot in his direction and a low rumbling of anger settled in my gut. "Are you kidding me?"

"Gianna said that Macie was shot twice, almost died, was on a ventilator in the ICU for a week, and then was in the hospital for over a month after that. She then said that Macie hadn't given any helpful tips to the cops. Gianna thinks it's because she hit her head when she fell to the ground when she was shot, which makes sense. But Macie's family wants to know who did it, so they and their friends put up a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for any information that leads to an arrest, but no one's come forward with anything."

My mind stuttered on "fifty-thousand-dollar reward." I'd volunteer to be carjacked myself if I could solve my own crime and reap that money. But there'd be one big hang-up in all of that. "Did any of Eric's crew have anything to do with the carjacking?"

"No," Marsh answered. "Eric's leaving the car market to other enterprises." "Enterprises" being other gangs. "His focus is elsewhere." Meaning drugs.

"Macie talk to you about the carjacking?" Marsh asked in a small voice, a quiet one that told me he hated asking, but I understood. His mind was probably stuck at the same place as mine—fifty thousand dollars. The reason he worked for Eric was to make sure he and his family could pay the mortgage and not lose their house. Fifty thousand dollars could buy his freedom from Eric. Fifty thousand dollars could buy my freedom from my father's bad decisions.

"No," I said absently. "She won't talk about it."

Marsh didn't say anything in response, just turned his back on me and took a few steps from the Dumpster. My stomach dropped for both me and him. I hated this life. I hated his life. I hated how we both felt trapped and enslaved to this poverty and how no matter how much we tried we'd never be anything more than dirt.

Pissed off, angry, feeling I was about to explode, I kicked one of the garbage bags and expected it to go flying, but instead my foot came into contact with something plastic and hard. Hesitant excitement ripped through me, and I tore open the bag. My lips edged up.

Laptop in hand, I gave Marsh the good news of victory. "Paydirt! Laptops. There's got to be at least ten in here. We just landed rent for me and mortgage for you."

I felt light on my feet at the sight of Marsh's smile.

***

Marsh and I celebrated like kings on the way back, turning up the music in his ride, letting our heads nod with the beat while I actually allowed myself to relax. These twelve laptops weren't going to solve any long-term problem, but liquidating them could mean I could afford Camila's inhaler this month and her asthma medication. It meant if the electricity did get cut off, because I could afford her medication, I wouldn't have to listen to her wheeze, wishing I could breathe for her, the guilt eating me alive.

Marsh pulled into the parking lot for my apartment complex, and we wasted no time gathering the laptops and chargers I had salvaged from the Dumpster along with some other miscellaneous crap we could make a buck or two from. We already tried powering up two laptops, and that light shining from them was glorious. The start program ran as sweetly as the bass that had vibrated Marsh's car earlier.

First step, start all the computers. Next step, wipe everything off of them because the electronic stores hardly ever did that, and I had no interest in helping someone commit identity fraud. Third step, list those babies on the internet with a description of "used" and the appropriate condition. Fourth step, mail them off to their brand-new owners. The ones that didn't work, we'd use for parts to create computers that would work and sell those. Then we'd sell the miscellaneous stuff we found to people who had booths in flea markets. They'd mark up the price and make their own money.

Marsh and I shared a constant stream of light-hearted conversation as we walked up the stairs, but the moment I put my key in to unlock the door, my stomach twisted with dread. The door was unlocked, which spelled bad news. Lyra should be at work and Camila with Alma. Before I could tell Marsh we should split to his house, the door to my apartment opened and I came face to face with my father.

How the hell did Dad own a key? Lyra. Lyra had to have given him a key, and now he had a way into my home. My home. Lyra was definitely on my shit list.

In the living room, Eric sat on the wooden chair (the one I had found the morning after eviction day of the apartment next door) as if it was his throne and this was his kingdom. All he needed was a crown made of blood and some peasants to cower in front of him.

"Looks like you've been busy, Relic," Eric said.

"Yeah." I set the stack of laptops on the kitchen counter. Marsh deposited the power supplies next to them and dropped the bag of other shit we'd found on the floor.

"Hey," Marsh said to Eric because, you know, his employer.

"Marshall, I'm assuming your fingers are feeling better," Eric said with a hint of amusement. With my back still to Eric, I had to breathe in deeply to rein in the anger. I wanted to toss this bastard out of my home and life.

"Yeah," Marsh said, "they are."

"I hope this means you've learned your lesson?"

"Definitely."

"Good." Eric's amusement had turned to a frozen icepick. And Marsh asked why I wouldn't work for Eric. Why would I want to give someone this type of power over me? "Relic, I'm here to make sure everything's cool with your dad staying here again."

It wasn't, and I flinched because I wanted to tell Eric where he could shove my dad, and then I wanted to throw Dad out on his ass.

"I know you must be concerned there's not enough beds," Eric continued. "But I told him he'd have to be fine with staying on the couch."

I had no idea why Eric believed he needed to cram Dad down my throat. I finally turned to face him. "I'll need to discuss it with Lyra when she comes home from work."

"Lyra's on a date," Dad said. "And Camila was asleep when I got here."

My spine straightened with fury. Lyra skipped work and left our sister with these bastards?

"I'm done with you sulking over your dad," Eric said. "I allowed it because I get your anger, but it's time he moves back in. He's your family. Your dad. Blood means everything."

I stayed silent because I had nothing nice or good to say.

"He's trying, Relic. He's making amends. He's even making some choices that are helping him make small payments toward his debt."

My eyes flashed to Dad. "You selling again?"

"It's not your business if he is," Eric answered for him in a cold voice.

"It is if I got rival gangs shooting up my house," I challenged Eric. Marsh and Dad moved as if to hide in the shadows.

"If you want to mitigate any danger to your household, then you'll agree to work for me. I could then offer more protection for you and your family."

Fuck that.

"Your dad's first payment to me is due next week, and he's going to be short."

I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets to keep from punching him in the jaw. "Are we done yet?"

"We're never done. He owes me five hundred dollars on the fifteenth and thirtieth of every month until his debt is paid, which is looking like the next two to three years. He's short three hundred dollars."

"Do I look like someone who has an extra anything lying around?"

Eric glanced at the laptops. "I'll take those and knock two hundred off the debit."

"That's highway robbery and you know it." Depending upon their condition, I'd make somewhere between fifty and a hundred dollars apiece. But it could take me a couple weeks to offload them.

"Fine, don't give me them. When he doesn't pay, I'll have him roughed up. Maybe Marshall here can give your dad tips on how to care for a broken arm. The next time he misses a payment, because I consider him family, I'll have him roughed up again, but I can't promise he'll be walking. Don't make me have to kill him the third time. I will blame you for that, and neither of us wants that."

A muscle near my eye twitched. I'd never hated anyone as much as I hated Eric.

Eric stood, walked over to the computers, handed them to Marsh, then piled the chargers on top as Eric stared me in the eye. Marsh grimaced as the weight had to be killing his arm, but he didn't say a word. "Make sure to grab the bag, Marshall. I'm sure Relic would like me to have whatever goodies are in there, too. Take them to my car, and then you're coming with me. I have work for you tonight."

Marsh didn't meet my eyes as he walked out, and the chain strangling my best friend reached out to choke my neck. Eric leaned into me to make sure he had my attention, which he was aware he had from the moment I first walked in. "Life all the way around would be easier if you'd agree to work for me."

"Why do you want me so damn bad? You know I hate you." I possibly made the wrong judgement call with honesty, but I was played out.

Eric's lips twitched. "What can I say? I like the game."

Meaning, he liked screwing with me.

"All sons hate their dad at one point, but they eventually grow out of it. We both know the real reason you're so fast on your feet is because it's me who raised you when your dad couldn't."

My eyes flashed to Dad, and he continued to sit on the couch, eyes locked to the floor.

Had I been close to Eric? Yeah, back when I was ten and thought the gifts and attention Eric showered me with meant love. After seeing Eric nearly beat someone to death when I was younger, I learned swiftly that Eric had no idea how to love. The guy was fucking dangerous.

"Once you come around, once you're loyal to me, I know I'll have one of the best hustlers on the street making me some massive money."

"I was arrested," I reminded him.

"Which we both know was bullshit."

"Those cuffs on my wrist, that jail cell, and that judge didn't feel like bullshit to me."

Eric leaned in farther and whispered near my ear, "We both know you allowed yourself to be caught to get away from me. It was a great move. With your dad coming home, you knew it was going to create heat from me. This only helps prove how smart you are but be careful—I'm smarter. You only have so many moves left, and at some point, I'm going to want the game to end." He pulled back, patted my shoulder, then walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

The urge was to run away, but I refused to leave Camila in my father's care. "You think you could have told me you agreed to give Eric five hundred dollars twice a month?"

Dad's hands shook. "I thought I could handle it, but the good news is we only owe a hundred more."

"We? Only a hundred more? I don't have enough money for the bills we have now, never mind your debt. And why are you selling again? Didn't that halfway house set you up as a dishwasher?"

"They don't pay enough."

No, they didn't, but… "But selling leaves a trail of dead bodies. If you bring danger into this home and it hurts Camila or Lyra, you'll be begging Eric to protect you from me."

Dad didn't say anything, just stared at the floor. "I'm going to make this right, Relic. I'm going to pay off the debt and become the father you need."

"I don't need a father," I spat at him. "I need you out of my life."

"Relic?" Camila's groggy voice held the threat of tears. With her Tianna nightgown stuck to her sweaty body because of the million-degree apartment temperature—even with the air conditioner running—she stood near the hallway, rubbing her eyes.

"Hey, Camila." Dad's voice trembled with excitement, and Camila quaked as though she had been electrocuted. "You are so pretty. Just like your momma."

She threw herself in my direction, then climbed me like a tree. With her arms and legs moving in a thousand different directions, catching Camila was like scooping up air, but eventually I got her settled on my hip. Dad took a step toward us, she shook, and I shot Dad down with a glare. "Stay back."

She buried her head into my shoulder and whispered, "Who's that?"

To Camila, Dad was a stranger. He spoiled in prison for years, and before that, he only returned home when crashing from a drug binge. Otherwise, he lived for the party. To my sister, while she understood we were her siblings, in reality, Lyra and I were her parents. For Camila, a mom and a dad were as real as Leprechauns at the end of the rainbow.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. Let's go back to bed."

"Relic," Dad started, but I was done with him.

"I said back off." I returned to Camila's room, shut the door, placed her in bed, tucked four of her stuffed animals around her, and made sure the fan blew directly onto her hot body.

"Is that man staying?" Camila asked.

Though I hated it… "Yeah."

She remained silent as her eyes studied me in the dim light straining from the crack under the shut door. "I don't like him. I don't like how he looked."

I didn't like him either. "You're safe. I promise."

"Will you stay?" Camila asked.

She wasn't one to ask for such things, at least not when the skies were clear. Bring on a thunderstorm and she'd stick to me like glue.

"Sure." I sank to the floor and leaned my back against her bed.

"You don't like him," Camila said. "The man out there."

No, I didn't. "It's complicated."

"Is he going to hurt us?"

He already had. "I'll make sure everything is okay. Now, go to sleep."

"I love you, Relic."

My throat swelled with her innocence. Innocence I never possessed. "I love you, too."

My mind was a tornado, tearing through all that happened over the last few days. Losing my job, gaining a job, making friends with Macie Hutchins, learning that she can't talk about that night, Eric cornering me like a rabid dog, and then my mind circled back to the same thought—a fifty-thousand-dollar reward.

Macie Hutchins didn't know it yet, but she and I were about to find the people who jacked her car, and when we found them…hell hath no fury like a desperate man in need of fifty thousand dollars and the freedom it bought.