~Keenan~
"Few more bottles," Kevin says to Logan, who takes another six pack out of the fridge and loads it into the ice cooler. "Dude, do we have enough snacks as is?"
"Who cares? As long as we give them something, they'll be fine."
They're throwing the first party of the season outside tonight and a few people have already shown up, despite it being way too early. Then again, the early guests are all girls, so the guys aren't exactly complaining.
"Hey, um...guys? I need your help with something," Stella says, beelining for us with a portable speaker in hand. She lifts it and asks, "who's gonna DJ?"
"DJ?" Logan scrunches his nose.
"We don't have a DJ?" Kevin asks.
Vincent arrives the kitchen with his arm around a blonde I recognise from the house across the lake, Vivian or something. She smiles and waves as soon as she sees me. To avoid looking like a total ass, I throw a two fingered wave over my shoulder as I return my gaze to Stella, who is dismissing Kevin's idea to just make a playlist and let it play randomly.
Brett and Wyatt join us both with empty bowls in hand. They head to the fridge to begin stacking snacks that Heather will definitely freak when she sees.
"Guys, do any of you want to DJ?" Stella asks them.
Brett shakes his head. "No, ma'am. I plan on getting wasted, if you don't mind."
"Same, sorry," Wyatt agrees with a chuckle. They head back outside so she turns to me.
"Keenan?"
"Nope." I shake my head. Chances are I'll also be drinking tonight, courtesy of Joey. I don't know what star I accidentally stepped on, but she's picking some kind of interest in me and I'd rather occupy myself with alcohol than stare at her all night and risk her noticing.
"Babe?" She asks Logan, who laughs and heads outside, leaving her question hanging.
"I'll do it," Kevin finally offers, relieving Stella of the last checklist item. She sighs and throws her arms around him in thank you. I notice Kevin suck in a breath, but don't watch it for too long because a hand claps my shoulder from behind.
"Hey, man." Vincent says.
"Yeah?"
He noisily drags out the barstool beside me and sets himself down as he speaks. "Look, about earlier, that wasn't anything, right?" He asks. I know he's referring to finding Joey and me at the lake. When I asked about her injury, I didn't expect her to present it in front of me in that manner, and I stupidly couldn't pass on an opportunity to hold her, so I know what it must've looked like to him.
"No."
Relief flashes on his face as he pats my shoulder. "Aight man, just checking." He gets up, sips his beer and looks over my head. "She's not really your type, anyway.
My mind flashes back to two seconds ago, when he literally had his arm around someone else. I also take the opportunity to remind myself that Vincent is not my business, so I keep my mouth shut and focus on the bowl of cereal in front of me.
"You'll get us some more of that dope, right?" He asks. "I told a couple of guys and they're stoked. Don't worry, we can throw the wraps in the sand and get the money covertly. They'll have no idea who they're buying from." He grins at his own idea.
Clever, but hell no after what happened not even a month ago. "I'm not doing that."
"Why the hell not?" He asks, his smile descending into a scowl.
I shrug and take another bite of my cereal. "I don't work for you."
He laughs and retakes his seat, lowering his voice as he leans toward me. "You're right. My bad, bro. You do have my own shit though, right?"
"Nope. Rob's MIA," I lie.
His smile falters again, like he's not sure if I'm messing with him or being serious. "Wait dude is this a joke? I'm due in like two weeks, I'll be out before then."
I narrow my eyes at Vincent Hale. When I met him, we hated each other—well, technically I hated all my friends when I first met them—but Hale and I were on opposite sides of life. I hated how high and mighty he thought he was, and I'm pretty sure he hated the fact that I got away with things he knew he could never. It was until I found out about his disorder that we found a bit of common ground.
He hadn't told either of his parents he'd been diagnosed with bipolar II disorder, and the prescription he'd gotten from a remote clinic was weak as fuck. He was starting to crash more and more often, sometimes in the middle of the night, which was how I ended up finding him at one of his lowest points. I knew a way to prevent his symptoms from getting worse, but I didn't want him to fail a drug test or get in a car accident, so Rob and I took some time getting his prescription right. Every month since then, I've supplied him a bit of the antideps to help him play and function until he gets drafted, and in return, he's been getting me paying, non athletic customers.
One might immediately get judgemental, or accuse me of benefitting off of someone's health condition, but apart from the fact that I don't give a shit what anyone thinks of me, there's also the fact that Hale would've done way worse if I hadn't taken him on. At least with me as his supplier, I can make sure he doesn't get addicted because let's face it. It's a risky business, with a high chance of doing more harm than good.
"Why? Did you get hooked on it?" I ask, knowing fully well that if he is, he's fucked. I usually don't give a shit if customers out of college get addicted, but I usually cut students off if I notice any signs of a budding addiction. Vincent is way too close as it is, and coupled with whatever basketball has going on for him, I'm not ready to kill a career. "I gave you a month's worth. If you've gone through it all already, I'm gonna have to cut you off."
"Of course not!" He denies, shaking his head, fighting to regain the smile. "I'm just saying I'll feel better knowing I have a reserve, that's all."
Clever lie, but I know bullshit when I see it. "Is it that or are you starting to feel your doses getting weaker? Because if that's the case, you're gonna have to say something soon, Hale."
"Who the fuck are you, my father?!" His fist pounds the table as he glares at me, but the action in itself tells me all I need to know. He's starting to use the pills more frequently, which was not our agreement from the onset. He senses me calculating him, so he turns his face in the other direction. "Look, I didn't mean..."
"I don't care what you meant."
His glare intensifies as he brings his face to mine to whisper. "Fuck you, Reid. You hear me? Fuck the fuck out of you." He glares one last time, then turns to head outside.
Kevin raises his brows as if checking if everything's okay. I flash him a thumbs up and return to my cereal.
~~~~
The party charges and everyone starts off wandering, drinking, dancing or jumping off the dock for a nightly lake swim.
I make my way to the front of the house and pause when I see Vincent in the center of the growing party. He seems way happier than he was an hour ago, seeing as he's standing with his eyes, nose and mouth focused on Jo's ass in front of him. Granted, she doesn't know this because she's standing on top of the pool table, fastening a yellow lightbulb to a long string. She turns around and takes another bulb from Vincent, giving me a view of her face from up there. I take a sip of beer to distract myself from watching them. Get it together.
I weave through the crowd to get away from them. I come to a screeching halt when I hear someone ask Joey to do a body shot. She says no at first, but then a group of people start chanting "Body shot! Body shot!" at the top of their lungs. Stella and Heather soon join in, leaving Joey on top of the table, cheeks flushed as she starts laughing. I've noticed she does that a lot when embarrassed. She laughs.
It doesn't take long before Vincent asks her to jump, breaking her landing with his hands on her waist. She could've easily jumped down three feet without help, but okay. They eventually succeed in talking her into their nonsense and before I know it, she's climbing on to the table, ready to take her shirt off.
"Who's taking it?" Heather asks.
Vincent scoffs and pushes away some lanky guy who offers, stepping forward with a smirk on his face. Joey shrugs nonchalantly and it kills me inside that she doesn't mind him putting his hands and mouth on her.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, saving my mind from leaving my skull as they start prepping her for the game.
Robert: Answer your phone, asshole. It's Ash.
The mention of my sister takes my mind completely off Joey and sends my senses into overdrive. I shove my beer bottle to the hand of the nearest girl and weave through the crowd to find a quiet place to make the call. There's no room due to too many people at every available free space, so I head into the woods, using a tree as a barrier between me and the rest of the party.
My stomach grows a pit as I dial Rob's number and place the phone to my ear.
"What?" He answers on the second ring.
"You know why I'm calling. What's going on? How did it happen?" I ask, hoping, praying that it's not what I think.
"Oh. I typed that about an hour ago. I only just got cell service."
"What happened?"
"She snuck out with her friends. Had a few bottles too much and passed out from dehydration. She'll be fine, no major damage." My whole body relaxes at the new information. My brother's raspy voice tells me he hasn't slept in a while, so he's probably still at the hospital. A few seconds of silence pass, then he says, "She asked of you again. Last week."
I shut my eyes as the words meet me. Our little sister, Ashley, is one of the most important people in my life, and the only thing worse than having to hear of her battles over the phone is not being able to tell her why. "What did you say?"
"You're still unavailable. Aren't you always?"
"That's not what we agreed, Robert. We said you'd tell her I'm in school."
"You've been in school for almost three years. You're not the one having to lie like an idiot every time she brings it up. Your Dad's never going to call you, so just get off your ass and at least be here for people who actually give a shit if you're alive or not."
"What do you think I'm trying to do by staying?" I ask, annoyance creeping up my neck like a virus. "If I come back now, Ashley's life goes down. You of all fucking people know what dad expects."
"Yeah, well in case you're blind, Dad isn't the most reliable parent, Keenan," he says, cutting me off. "He's forgotten your existence for all we know—ironic, isn't it? You're on your own. Always have been, always will be."
I'm well aware of our father's inconsistencies and I do not need a reminder. Rob of all people knows I'm low on choices concerning this issue, so I'm guessing his bad mood is because he's pissed about me jumping ship on him. "Look, if you're trying to talk me into dealing again, forget it."
"What is your problem? Did you get caught or something?"
I'm not stupid. "No."
"Then?"
"I just won't. I'm cutting Hale off too."
"Your fucking loss, asshole. I'll find another man to do your job."
"Give Ash my best."
"Come here and tell her yourself. I'm not your messenger."
I run a hand over my face as the dial tone rings in my ear. This is what I get for being a Reid. Not only does my shitty reputation precede me and make me a nub anywhere I go, I also have a slim chance of getting anything in the end to make all of the sacrifice worth it. Ashley's in a shitty life situation and I can't do anything to help because I can't legally be in two places at once, which I am, thanks to Dad.
With the frustration boiling through me, I dial my father's number and place the phone to my ear. I'm directed straight to voicemail, as usual.
"It's Keenan. I'm getting fucking tired of waiting for you."
I hit send, stuff my phone in my pocket and turn to head out for a walk.
I halt after a few steps, catching a movement from the corner of my eye. For some bizarre reason, I take a couple steps closer, pausing at the sight of white crocs, peeking out from the side of the house.
Joey.
Fuck, I hope she's not passed out.
I take big strides to reach her, quickly regretting my decision as I spot her sitting on the ground, not because she's hurt or blackout drunk, she has her nose buried in a book.
Her head snaps up immediately my shadow casts in her direction, and a small smile stretches her lips as her eyes land on me. "Hey, Keenan."
"What are you doing here?" I ask, looking left and right to confirm her company. Sure enough, she's alone. Seeing her brings to mind the body shot I just watched her get talked into doing. I still can't believe she caved to chanting. "You okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You're not at the party."
"Neither are you. Should I be worried?"
"Touché." My lips completely betray me and curve the slightest bit. Turns out I can't stay mad around her, either. Great.
I always wondered where she went when she disappeared from school parties, only to reappear later like nothing happened. Right now, she seems quiet and reserved, completely unlike she was just minutes ago, standing on a table in the middle of a raging party.
"Wanna sit?" She asks, moving over to create a space between the pillar and herself.
A boisterous cheer erupts from the gathering at the other side of the house, reminding me of the amount of people here, and the fact that literally anyone could wander here at any moment. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"What? Talking?" She asks, a frown visiting her face.
"It's not like that."
She rolls her lips in, then unfolds them and sighs again. "I know I'm not your usual type to hang out with, but at least I'm trying to make this less awkward than it has to be. I don't think I like it when you act like I don't exist, or like I have lice or something."
"Your friends will have much to say."
She rolls her eyes. "They don't have to know."
I would still find a way to walk away, but there's something about the rebellious glint in her eyes that makes me want to sit with her and hear all about whatever she has to say. The energy from the party seems to have everyone else caught in its trap so there's a plus sign there...then there's the fact that I know how bad I want to. I give in and take a seat, welcomed immediately by the faint scent of her flowery perfume.
"Not too bad now, is it?" She asks. I shake my head. She has no idea.
"Why aren't you at the party?"
She shrugs, bringing her legs closer to herself. "Because I hate parties." She sees the surprise on my face and smiles again, using a hand to tuck a strand of silky hair behind her ear. "I know. Hard to believe, but I prefer sitting here to—" Another round of screams erupts, followed by a loud splash. "— all that," she finishes.
"How come?"
She shrugs. "For starters, you're firsthand proof that the party scene isn't meant for me."
Ouch but "valid."
She chuckles and shuts the novel with a small thud. For some reason, learning that she hates parties doesn't make her any less suitable for the scene. When she was standing on a pool table, she looked like she belonged there. When she was swimming in the lake, she looked like she belonged there. And even now that she's tucked away from everyone, sitting crisscrossed on the ground with a book on her lap, she still looks like she's meant to be doing it.
Accepting the new information, I try to get a glimpse of the cover of the novel. "What's that?"
"It's called a book." The laugh I've been holding back bursts out and she joins with chuckles of her own. "It's a...dark romance I'm supposed to be buddy reading with Heather, but she ditched me for Stella."
"Buddy reading?" I ask. "That's a thing."
"Duh."
We descend into silence again, and she slowly reopens the book, shuts it and looks at me. "What was your phone call about?"
"What's your book about?" I retort, changing the subject. Diabetes isn't a subject I want to think about right now.
Her cheeks flash red and I automatically know that it's the same shit I heard her reading aloud to Stella and Heather in the kitchen. Girls.
"I don't know that I can tell you with a straight face." She laughs. "You can tell me what your story is, though."
I shake my head, dismissing the suggestion immediately. "I can't tell you that." Her laughter fades and I go through the agony of watching her features descend into a frown. It kicks at me, so I rephrase. "What I mean, is that it's...not something I want to talk about right now. It'll ruin the moment."
She nods in understanding. "Alright, then."
It doesn't feel like I've carried this conversation well, because she starts fumbling with the corner of her book. I'm probably the most boring person she's ever talked to, which I know is a let down, since I usually come off as baggage filled and infuriating. As much as I am those things, I want to keep hearing her voice. "If your story's still on the table, I'd like to hear it."