Believe

Chapter Fifteen Phoenix

“Why do they call it Girls’ Night?” Nathan asked. “Why does it have to have a title? We don’t call it Guys’ Night when we hang out.”

Truth was, I didn’t give a shit what anyone called any of it. All I knew was that I had been planning on hanging out with my cousins while Robin was with her roommates. I hadn’t bargained on spending a night in the company of Nathan, who I couldn’t fucking stand. I was glad that Robin was feeling comfortable hanging out with her friends, and I had encouraged her to have fun, go dancing or whatever.

But I think it was safe to say she was having a hell of a lot more fun than I was.

We were at Zeke’s, a neighborhood bar, and Tyler and Riley knew the owner/bartender. I didn’t mind being in a bar. There was a pool table and a jukebox and a TV, plus the point was to talk to each other, right? At least as much as dudes do.

What I did mind was Nathan, aka Dickhead, running his mouth the entire time. He was a bragger, and he flirted with every woman who walked in the door, most of who were well past the point of cougar status. They were like . . . I don’t know . . . meerkats? Though maybe the label shouldn’t apply at all, since they weren’t the ones in pursuit, Nathan was, making a point of waving and smiling to every woman on every stool as he strolled to the pool table with Tyler.

“I don’t know how long I can hang with this,” I told Riley.

“What, being in a bar?”

“Douche lord over there,” I said, jerking my thumb toward Nathan. “I know he’s one of Tyler’s best friends, but he rubs me the wrong way.”

“He’s not my favorite either. I think they’re friends still because they’ve been friends since middle school. Nathan has gotten a bit big for his britches since he went to college. At least Tyler stopped letting that loser Grant troll around. I couldn’t stand that waste of space.”

“Grant?” I had a vague memory of a skinny kid who wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. “Is he the one who slashed the teacher’s tires and got arrested with the knife still in his hand?”

“That’s the one.”

“Tyler needs better friends.” I sipped my root beer from the bottle.

“Yeah, well, slim pickings in the neighborhood.”

“True that.” It wasn’t like I’d kept in touch with anyone from school. “The guys at the shop are cool. Normal.”

Riley laughed and threw back his whiskey. “What the hell is that?”

“I think maybe for the first time ever you and I are basically living it,” I said. “No drama. Feels awesome, doesn’t it?” Nothing but work and Robin and family . . . peace and quiet. We’d been together a month and going stronger than ever. Good stuff.

“It sure does.” Riley gave me a grin. “Got some good news today, too. At Jessica’s insistence, and okay, as a result of Jessica doing all the paperwork, the bank let me refinance at a lower interest rate. They rolled the back-owed money into a new loan, but the payments are still the same. With me, Jess, and Tyler all working, we can afford it, so we get to keep the house.”

“Wow, that’s awesome. Seriously.” I was impressed with how Riley had managed to create a life for himself and his brothers. I reached out and gave him a fist bump.

“God knows it’s not exactly where I want to live, but there is no way we could have that space for as little money if we rent anywhere else. And I don’t have to switch Easton’s school or upset his life anymore than it already has been. And in ten years, I’ll own that dump clear and free.” He raised his glass and grinned. “It makes a man proud.”

“It should. You done good, man.”

I was about to say more, but suddenly there was a loud crash. We whirled around and saw Nathan throwing a pole stick across the bar, a look of fury on his face. Both Riley and I jumped up as we saw Tyler holding his hand out and murmuring to Nathan.

“What’s going on?” Riley asked. “It’s just a game, man.”

“This isn’t over pool,” Nathan said through gritted teeth. “Kylie just broke up with me.”

“What?”

I hung back, on edge, arms crossed.

“In a five-second phone conversation.” He raked his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth before rounding and pointing a finger at me. “It’s that bitch Robin’s fault!”

Oh, hell no. He was not going to fucking go there with me. I dropped my arms and took a step toward him. “Excuse me?” I asked, my voice steely cold.

Zeke appeared between us and gave Riley an apologetic look. “Dude, you need to take him out,” he said, tilting his head toward Nathan. “You know you’re always welcome, but he broke the pool stick and that ain’t cool.”

“Sure, no problem, I understand.” Riley gave Tyler a long look. “Get him out of here. Phoenix and I will stay.”

“He’s not going anywhere until he apologizes for calling my girlfriend a bitch,” I said, knowing that I should just let it drop. But I couldn’t. If Kylie had broken up with Nathan, and Nathan was accusing Robin of being to blame, then that meant Kylie knew what had gone down. Which meant being the slimeball that he was, Nathan was trying to throw Robin under the bus. Fuck that.

Thinking about Robin, how much she had suffered, how devastated she would be right now, made me really upset. Pissed.

“Dude, don’t,” Riley said. “Come on, just leave it alone.”

Tyler had Nathan by the arm and was trying to wrest him toward the door, but Nathan was fighting him. “I’m not apologizing!” he yelled at me. “That selfish little bitch did it on purpose! She fucking set me up and now Kylie knows about me and Robin.”

“Shut up,” Tyler said, pushing him harder. “This isn’t cool.”

I moved closer to Nathan, even when Riley darted and tried to block me. “What is he talking about?” he asked.

“Say it, Nathan,” I said, egging him on, and knowing full well I was egging him on. But the fury was coursing through me like an electrical surge, and I wanted just one more insult so I could put my fist into his sneering dickhead face. Did he have any idea how much Robin had agonized over what had happened? How worried she was about hurting her friend? Obviously not. He was just concerned with saving his own sorry ass. “Go on, blame a girl for you being a tool. Let me hear your pussy explanation for why you can’t take responsibility for your own actions.”

“Hey, Robin was there when I fucked her. I kept it a secret. She could have kept her mouth shut.” Nathan sneered. “But maybe she’s so used to having a cock in it, she doesn’t know how.”

And that was my fist in his face.

There was no conscious thought. Just a reaction, a lightning-quick move, my head a haze of burning hot anger, adrenaline lending me enough power to drop him to the floor with one hit. Nathan went down hard, and the sound was satisfying, but not nearly enough to clear the cloud of anger distorting my thoughts. I kicked him on the foot. “Get up!”

Riley tried to grab my arm, but I shook him off. He and Tyler were both speaking but I didn’t hear what they were saying. My entire focus was on the piece of shit scrambling to his feet, wiping at his mouth, which was bleeding. The sight of that red smear excited me, made me pleased. I wanted more of it. I wanted his face distorted and swollen, eyes shut, a bloody pulp. He thought he was so fucking sexy, wait until I was done with him. Wait until he understood what happened when someone called my girlfriend a whore.

He was moving too slow for me, so I punched him again without waiting for him to fully stand. He grunted and fell backward with the impact, right into the door. Zeke opened it, and Nathan spilled out onto the sidewalk. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I followed.

“I’m calling the cops,” Zeke said, shaking his bald head at us.

I didn’t care. I didn’t give two shits. By the time they got there Nathan would look like raw ground beef.

But Riley came at me from the side with a football move, plowing me down the sidewalk about three feet like I was a tackle dummy and screaming, “Knock it off! You don’t want to do this, man.”

“Let me go! Yes, I do!” I scrambled, going down low to dart out of his reach. “Don’t make me hit you, Riley.”

“You want to go back to jail? You’ll get three years this time!”

I knew that logically, but anger was propelling me. Wild, uncontrollable anger, but by the time I escaped Riley’s grip, Tyler had dragged Nathan to his feet and was shoving him in the back of his car on the street. Riley pulled the back of my shirt. I swatted at him.

“Fucking stop it!” I yelled. “Fine. I’ll let him go.” I knew where he lived. Taking a deep breath, I paced back and forth on the sidewalk. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“Walk, asshole,” Riley shoved me in the direction of home. “I don’t think Zeke actually called the cops, but just in case.”

I raked my hands through my hair. “Did you hear what he said about her?” I asked, my voice hoarse and raw. God. The pain I knew she must be feeling, it was my pain. I pulled out my phone and tried to call her, but there was no answer. It went right to voice mail, so her phone was probably turned off.

“That was pretty shitty,” Riley admitted. “I am not saying I blame you. If someone had said that about Jess I would have lost it.”

“Can you try calling Jessica?” I asked. “Robin isn’t answering. If Kylie knows she and Nathan hooked up, then she must be furious with Robin, too. I’m worried about her.”

“You knew, didn’t you?”

Nodding, I walked faster. “Yeah. She told me a few weeks ago. She was drunk, blacked out, woke up with Nathan back at the beginning of the summer. It’s why she quit drinking. It’s been eating her alive, the guilt over Kylie.”

“Damn.” Riley shook his head. “What a fucking mess.” He put his phone to his ear. “Hey, babe, what’s going on there? Shit hit the fan here.”

Trying Robin again, I cursed. Of course it was still turned off.

“So where are you girls? Uh-huh. And Robin? What time was that? Okay. Yeah, I love you, I’ll call you back. Bye.”

Riley looked at me. “Rory and Kylie and Jess are all at my place. They left Robin back at the apartment.”

“But then why isn’t she answering?”

“I don’t know. She’s probably upset. She’s probably taking a shower or something.”

It didn’t make sense. Robin would reach out to me when she was upset, I was sure of it. So what was she doing, alone? The thought terrified me.

“I need a car.”

We were cutting down his street, and I suddenly realized as we came up to the house that Nathan’s car was in front of the house.

“No. No, Phoenix, don’t.” Riley already knew where my thoughts were going. “That’s grand theft auto.”

“Then I’ll borrow your car,” I said, bending over and picking up a good size rock off the tree lawn. I smashed it into Nathan’s window with a beautiful crash, sending glass shattering all over me and the grass.

“Ah, fuck, seriously?”

“Look away if you don’t want to be a part of it,” I told him as I leaned in through busted glass and popped the trunk.

Going around the back of the car I lifted the trunk and found what I was looking for—a tire iron. Then I took it to Nathan’s car, feeling the pulse and vibration up through my arms as the metal and fiberglass clashed together with each ferocious blow. Steadily making my way around the car, I hit it over and over, sweating and furious, the jarring contact rattling my teeth, the crunch of glass beneath my shoes feverishly satisfying. Vaguely in the background I was aware of the front door to the house opening and voices, but it didn’t matter. I saw my reflection in the passenger window, but I pictured Nathan’s sneer as I hit so hard the iron left my grip and went sailing straight through to the backseat.

Panting, I turned and walked away, spitting on the ground by the back tire, trying to rid my mouth of the foul taste that coated my tongue, the back of my throat.

There was a whole crowd staring at me in shock. Jessica, Rory, Kylie, Jayden, Easton. Riley was shaking his head.

“That’s what I think of a guy who cheats on his girlfriend,” I said to my audience. “That’s what I think of a guy who has sex with a girl who is so drunk she doesn’t even know where she is or who she’s with.”

Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I walked past them to the house, my new tattoo burning and itching as the healing skin pulled. “I need your keys!” I yelled to Riley over my shoulder.

But then I stopped and turned around. I locked eyes with Kylie. “I’m sorry.” Not for the car, but for the hurt she was feeling.

She just stared at me in shock, face swollen from crying. After a second, she nodded, and I thought she understood.

Rory drove me to Robin’s. She had said she needed to pack a bag for herself and Kylie and that she personally wanted to check on Robin. She also told me quite clearly that she didn’t think that I was in a frame of mind conducive to driving. And that was exactly how she said it. Conducive.

No, I was not feeling conducive to driving, whatever the hell that meant.

I felt calmer but not totally rational.

I was too damn worried about Robin.

“Riley said no one in the neighborhood will call the cops because it’s not their car. They won’t get involved. So don’t worry about that,” she said.

“I wasn’t.”

Rory looked insanely small driving Riley’s ancient Mustang, her auburn hair back in a ponytail, her dress something that in my mind was more suitable for a little kid at Easter or your grandmother’s couch, but I could see what Tyler saw in her. She was very matter-of-fact and not one for any sort of drama. I’d never once heard her raise her voice.

Robin didn’t shout either. She saved her passion for her art and for our bed.

Knowing it was pointless, I called Robin again. No answer.

“How is Kylie?” I asked.

“She is in shock. I mean, it was a double blow. Well, actually I suppose you could say a triple blow. Not only was it her friend and her boyfriend, but Nathan obviously did not regret it considering how many texts he sent after the fact, and their content.”

I cleared my throat, my jaw clenched, knuckles sore where I had hit him. “I don’t want to hear about the content. Sorry.”

Something about my voice had her glancing over at me nervously. “Sorry, that was thoughtless.”

“Have you heard from Tyler?”

“He has Nathan at the house. He is being belligerent. He wants to come over and talk to Kylie, but Tyler told him she doesn’t want to see him.”

I gave a laugh of disbelief, rubbing my face. “What a freakin’ mess. God, why isn’t Robin answering?”

“She’s upset, ashamed.” Rory pulled into a spot in front of the house. “I wish she had told us.”

“She couldn’t.” I got out of the car, anxiously waiting for Rory to get out of the car. Something was wrong. I knew it. I could feel it. Goose bumps rose on my skin. “Rory, hurry. Please.”

I started running. I don’t know why. I just did, pounding up the stairs to the landing to their apartment. I didn’t wait for Rory or her key. I just hit the door with my shoulder, hard, sending it flying back against the wall, wood splintering as I tore the lock from the hinge.

“Phoenix! What’s wrong?” Rory was behind me, coming up the stairs.

But that’s when I saw her, and I shouted, “Call 911!” I fell to the floor where Robin was, grabbing for her crumpled body. “Oh, God, oh, God, Robin, baby, Robin, wake up.”

Tears came to my eyes as I held her, trying to process what I was seeing. She was waxy white, and there was vomit all down the front of her dress. Her body was limp, unresponsive, legs bent at a weird angle. There was a mostly empty vodka bottle on its side on the floor next to her. All the breath seemed to suck out of my body like a vacuum had been brought to my lips. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

“Turn her on her side!” Rory ordered me in a sharp and commanding voice I didn’t normally associate with her.

“What?” I stared blankly up at her through watery eyes. “I don’t think she’s breathing,” I told Rory, and then a raw, anguished sob ripped out of my chest.

The phone was at Rory’s ear, and she told the operator, “Yes, blood alcohol poisoning. She’s been sober for about three months and now it looks like she drank at least a third of a bottle of vodka in less than ninety minutes.” Rory was breathing hard and talking fast as she shoved past me to push on Robin’s back. “Help me roll her, Phoenix, come on. We have to clear her airway in case she vomits again.”

“Is she alive?” I asked, even when I didn’t want to know the answer.

“Yes. Her breathing is shallow, but she’ll be okay as long as she doesn’t asphyxiate on her vomit.”

“Jesus.” That snapped me out of my stupor. She was alive. Robin was alive, and that was all that mattered. I rolled her onto her side. Her body was so cold, her face so clammy, her eyes not closed completely, but only the whites were visible, the absence of her irises disturbing. I was in agony seeing her like this, and I didn’t understand how this could happen. “Why would she do this?”

“Yes, thank you,” Rory was saying to the operator. “I hear the sirens now. I’m going down to let them in.”

As the pounding of Rory running down the stairs receded, I held Robin’s hand and brushed her hair back off her forehead. Bending over, I tried not to cry, and drew in a shuddering breath. I hadn’t cried since I was six years old. That I had tears in my eyes now shocked me, but God, if Robin was gone . . . I would be gone. Done. The light in my life would go out. My hands were shaking and I kissed her temple.

“Hang in there, you’re going to be fine,” I murmured, my voice hoarse and unsteady. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Then the paramedics were there, jabbing an IV into her arm and taking her vitals as they loaded her onto a stretcher.

“How much did she drink?”

“Is she on any other recreational drugs? Prescription drugs?”

“Has she been suicidal?”

I couldn’t answer, and I heard Rory’s voice from a distance, like I was caught in the eye of a storm and everyone else was whirling around in the tornado, motion and sound and reality out there in the funnel cloud, while I stood frozen in the center, helpless.

It was like the night my mother had overdosed. The sights, the sounds, my terror.

But I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t eleven years old.

And Robin needed me.

I dragged myself back into the present, muscle by muscle, just the way I did when I needed to control my anger. When they lifted the stretcher, I stood, a firm grip on Robin’s hand. She was cold, limp, her lips a horrifying bluish white.

“What’s her name?” the brawny guy setting a bag of fluid onto her lap asked.

“It’s Robin,” I said.

“You her boyfriend?”

“Yes.” My chest tightened.

“Are you sober? Can you follow us to the hospital?”

“I don’t drink,” I told him, my voice choked and harsh. “I’ve never been anything but sober.”

He studied me and nodded. “Okay, good. She’s going to be okay, man, don’t worry.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” I had to believe him.

Because if she wasn’t okay I had no idea how I would survive.

None whatsoever.