No One Knows Part 8

Tyler flashed his grin again. Tyler had impeccably white teeth that were remarkably straight for one who'd never benefited from orthodontia. She wondered how it was possible that he had maintained them, after all these years, all his problems. Stayed off the crack, stuck with the needle. Smart of him. When he smiled, it took her back, and she didn't want to go there.

Since that day, when she was such a young girl, so scared, so lost, Tyler had stepped up and she'd thought him a leader. But she soon learned he was the follower, desperate to be liked, respected, feared. Once he found that the weightier the gun in his hand, the more respect he earned, he was lost to her forever. When he started using the product he was selling, it was over for him.

"When did you get out?" Aubrey asked.

"Invite me in, sister." It was not a request. Aubrey moved away from the door and allowed him entry. She couldn't stop him if he wanted in anyway-he was twice her size-though it was nice to pretend he'd have some respect for her wishes. Then again, he never had, so why start now?

She shut the door behind him and wedged her back up against it. Winston, seeing Tyler, sniffed the air a few times and steadily backed away, disappearing into the kitchen.

"When did you get out?" Aubrey asked again.

Tyler's eyes slid to the side. She looked at what he looked at, wondering. Together, they took in the small living room: the brown leatherette couch that had a large rip in the middle cushion, the tan carpet that needed vacuuming, Aubrey's running shoes stacked against the back door, the vertical blinds, half open, half-mast, dusty. A mess, but it could be worse. At least there were no signs of Boden.

She hoped the flush she felt when she thought of him didn't show on her cheeks.

What did Tyler want? What was he looking for?

Now, Aubrey, why do you immediately assume he's after something? Why can't you let him come say hello after a long absence? Why do you have to turn it into something else?

Because you know him, better than anyone.

"I got out a few days ago," Tyler finally replied. He was hedging.

The hangover came back, biting at her stomach and head with vicious snaps. She didn't have the energy for this.

"I'm making a cup of tea. Would you like one?" She broke Tyler's gaze and left him standing in the foyer. Walked toward the kitchen. He followed.

"Tea? What kind of pussy do you take me for?"

She tossed a smile over her shoulder, and at the same time, they both said, "A biiiiiig fuckin' pussy."

She relaxed. Tyler was just here as a brother, wanting to mooch some money, food, and alcohol, and he'd be on his way.

"Got any eggs?" he asked hopefully, following her into the kitchen.

"No. Tea is it. Unless you want a frozen dinner?"

"Nope. And if that's all you have, you need to go to Publix. You look like you're starving to death."

The ice was broken now. They could pretend they were friends, if not forever connected through their pasts, through the system. Both systems. He'd never believed she'd killed Josh. He knew her. In his own weird way, he loved her.

She could have had a terribly difficult time while awaiting her bond hearing. Instead, Tyler's influence had managed to keep her from the worst the county jail had to offer a pretty young white thing.

"So. You seeing anyone?" he asked.

Aubrey froze, disguised the movement by gracefully reaching for the teapot. She didn't turn.

He couldn't know. There was no way he could know. Unless he was staking out the house, waiting.

She arranged the cups, dropped in the tea bags.

"Tyler, what do you want?"

"I can't just drop in on my little sister because I want to say hello?"

"Not a week out of jail, jonesing for a fix and reeking of alcohol. No."

She turned to face him. Tyler was unpredictable at the best of times-he could be here to intimidate or woo, depending on his mood and where he was in the cycle. Tyler was forever getting clean, forever relapsing. The people around him bore the brunt of his failures.

His face contorted for a brief second, the attack coming. Instead, he breathed in deeply and his lazy smile returned. Yes, he wanted something. He was willing to swallow his explosive temper to get it as well.

"I hear Josh was declared dead at last."

"Yes." Her chin inched a bit higher. "What about it?"

"There's some serious coin coming your way, I expect."

"No, actually."

His eyes widened for the briefest of seconds, then narrowed, mean as a snake.

"Don't bullshit me, little sister. The world knows all about his 'estate.' And the life insurance policy. Why do you think they thought you killed him in the first place? That's an awful lot of money for a kid to take out on his own life. So"-he leaned against the counter-"I was hoping you would share a bit of your good fortune with your big brother."

She met his gaze, the dark blue depths muddy, the bloodshot whites tinged with the tiniest hint of yellow. Jaundice. Too many needles. Tyler played the role of crippled junkie too well. It had saved him from being killed more than once; his bosses didn't like the runners sampling the wares, but he managed to keep them satisfied enough to spare his life. They understood, with the high-grade heroin they were selling, some of their foot soldiers were bound to fall prey to the goods.

Aubrey liked to run away from everything, too, find that blessed oblivion. The only difference between them: her drugs were legal. Honestly, she understood Tyler getting hooked on drugs more than she understood the strange power he felt when carrying a gun. He claimed it was for protection. All the dealers carried. But she wondered if, deep down, he was just a walking time bomb, and the gun his easy way out.

"There's nothing to share. I'm not going to get any money from the 'estate.' Daisy is going to contest and get everything."

"Daisy. That bitch don't deserve a penny of Josh's money."

"Tyler, quit talking like you're some gangsta. You have every bit the command of the language as I do."

Now she was needling him, and it felt good. He flushed, eyes squinting even further.

"Don't fuck with me, teacher."

He made it sound dirty, and small.

"Oh, come off it. Do I need to remind you of that time-"

"Shut up." This was said flatly, no more affection, just a warning from a brother that she'd gone too far. She'd made her point. The teakettle whistled. They stared at each other for a few more moments. She poured the hot water into the cups, careful not to splash.

"You know I'm telling you the truth. Daisy already let me know she'd be fighting the payout. In her mind, the insurance company screwed up and the money belongs to her. It was her bargain with Josh when we were trying to buy the house. We couldn't afford the payments, and he asked her to cosign. She agreed on one condition: that she be sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy, the one she and his stepfather had taken out on him years before, and she'd have control of the property in case we defaulted. He agreed, thinking once we had a few years under our belts he could go in and change everything back to me. But you know all this already."

"Then why did Josh add so much money to the policy right before he disappeared?"

"For the thousandth time, I don't know."

"But when he did add to the policy, the insurance company put your name down as a default, since you were his wife."

"And he died before he could sign off on the change to move it back to Daisy." She smiled meanly. "Daisy was beside herself."

"That woman never has liked you."

She shook herself a little, remembering. "None of this matters. It's blood money. I don't want it. I'm not going to fight her. She can have it all."

Tyler sidled up behind her. She felt the cold, hard steel of the weapon in the small of her back. She didn't flinch. Tyler responded poorly to shows of weakness.

"Have we all been wrong, Aubrey?" he whispered in her ear. "Did you kill him?" The gun traced small circles on her spine. "You can tell me. It's official now, he's dead and gone in the eyes of the courts, and you were acquitted. The cops won't be knocking on your door."

Aubrey turned around slowly, felt the muzzle trace around her ribs until it was pointing straight into her abdomen.

"You of all people know I didn't kill him, Tyler. And he has to be dead because Josh would never, ever put me through this hell."

Tyler used the gun to tease the bottom of her shirt up, revealing the hard flesh of her stomach. She met his eyes. Dared him.

"I loved him more than my own life. Part of me died with him. Killing him would have been like killing myself. Now put that stupid gun away before you accidentally blow off your cock."

He coughed out a laugh, gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, grabbed the cup of tea and sat down at the table. He picked up the saltshaker, unscrewed the top, and poured the contents on the wood. Pictures emerged from the tip of his finger, outlines: an engorged penis, a heart, a big question mark.

Aubrey brought her tea to the table and sat opposite her foster brother.

"I have a little bit of cash. It's not much. But if it will help get you on your feet, it's yours. I'm sorry I didn't know you got out. I would have been there."

The words were insincere but had the placating effect she was going for.

"I'm clean, though I'm sure you don't believe me. They had a program, in jail."

"You've been through programs before."

"It's different this time." He went quiet. "Maybe a hundred or so. Just until I can find some work. I'll pay you back."

She knew work to Tyler meant something illegal. What was she going to do, tell him to get a straight job? Tyler had lived in the recesses of society his whole life. She didn't blame him for being who he was: an addict, struggling along like the rest of the world.

She blamed his mother, a whore with a crack habit; his father, a businessman who'd slipped down to Donelson Pike one afternoon and made a deposit, then disappeared forever; and the dealer-slash-pimp who kept his mother's legs spread and mouth occupied to line his coffers. Tyler had spent the first three years of his life in malnourished squalor until a local cop found him next to his mother's lifeless body.

His freedom was traded for a series of well-meaning foster parents.

Just like hers.

She rose from the table and went for her purse. Enabler she would be if it meant getting him the hell out of the house. She got it out of her wallet and handed it to him silently. He took the money without meeting her eye, used the edges to turn the salt into pretend lines of coke. She noticed Tyler's hands shaking and knew without a doubt he was too newly clean. The money would go straight into his arm. Sadness overwhelmed her.

Tyler never had a chance. At least Josh had pulled her from the ashes before she went down the same road.

Why wasn't he leaving?

"It's all I've got, Tyler."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He didn't move, so she stood, arms crossed, and waited. God, she just wanted to lie down. Her head had started pounding again; her stomach was roiling.

"You've always been good to me, Aubrey."

"Good grief, Tyler. Did you find God in prison or something? Get. Scat. Leave. I have stuff to do."

He smiled at her, a flash of childhood, their adventures, their fears, their moments of innocence. His gold necklace caught the light from the kitchen window. He'd had it as long as she'd known him. It would be easy to pawn, to get some money to put in his arm, but he held on to it like a lifeline.

"I didn't find God, Aubrey. But I am straight." He squared his shoulders. "I've always been honest with you. I told you from the beginning Hamilton was no good."

Here we go.

"Tyler, he's gone. Doing the 'I told you so' dance won't change things."

"I'm not kidding around, Aubrey. I heard some shit while I was in."

Aubrey burst out laughing. "About Josh? My Josh? He was training to be a doctor, Tyler, not a criminal. We left that element up to your side of the family."

Tyler pushed back from the table so hard the chair tipped over onto the floor and Winston jumped.

"It never ends with you, does it?"

"Josh wouldn't know the first thing about doing anything illegal. You knew him. He wouldn't even bet on a football game. Good God, listen to yourself."

"You honestly think-Jesus, Aubrey! When will you see he wasn't the man you thought he was?"

"Fuck you, Tyler. He was twice the man you'll ever be."

He flinched away from her. Her words had always been sharp.

"Tyler-"

His voice was deadly quiet. "You're from the gutter, Aubrey, just like me, and don't you ever forget it."

He stormed from the room. She heard him fling open the front door. Moments later, the engine of the Camry came to life with a roar.

She went to the front door and closed it softly. Leaned back against it.

"Damn."

Tyler had always been a mess. He'd gotten himself involved in drugs, and ran with a gang of boys whose sole purpose in life was to get into trouble. That same gang of boys grew up and turned into a tight-knit group of serious troublemakers who ran drugs for a branch of the Dixie Mafia.

She didn't want to know the things Tyler had done. Thirty-one-the same age Josh would be if he'd lived-and he'd been in and out of jail, in and out of rehab, so many times that she couldn't keep track.

She knew this wasn't the life he wanted. He'd fallen into it and hadn't had the energy, or desire, to extricate himself. Or the love. If someone would just love him properly, he might find his way again.