Shit, he was thirsty. He licked his top lip, tasting the salty sweat. He headed down the hallway. Kevon waited for him by the elevator, wearing a denim jacket with matching pants. A black skull cap hid the close‐cropped black hair.
“Give me your cap,” Danny said.
He raised an eyebrow, but handed the cap to Danny. He placed the hat over his own dark locks. Next they traded jackets. Changing clothes and hiding his signature hair would help him blend in with New Yorkers on the street.
He clapped Kevon on the back. “Thanks. I need some privacy.” Code for “no bodyguards allowed”. Kevon nodded. If he needed to find him, Danny had a GPS tracker embedded in his remote car key.
As he entered the elevator his cellphone chirped a song he'd written for Beth. “Oh my gosh. Danny, this is unbelievable,” his sister said when he answered.
The jubilance in her voice told him that she, his other sister, Lindsay, and his mother had landed at Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport.
It was the first time she'd spoken to him since the slumber party. For forty‐eight hours she'd kept her word and hadn't acknowledged him when he called their mother's home. He'd needed to do something drastic. He hoped giving her a month long stay in Paris would at least open up the lines of communication.
“I'm glad you like it. I know this doesn't begin to make up for what happened. I…” His voiced cracked. Losing it in front of Nia was one thing, but he couldn't do that to Beth.
He bit his lip, forcing the emotion out of his voice, and then started again. “I don't even recognize myself right now. I'm lost, but one thing that's always clear in my mind is you're my sister and I love you. You have to believe I would never, ever do anything to hurt you, but I'm so messed up right now. I wasn't ready for you guys to come over that night. I shouldn't have let you in. I'm so sorry.”
“I hear you,” Beth said.
He was all too familiar with the tone people took when they were distancing themselves from him.
“I'm just waiting for my brother to come back,” she sighed. “I know you can get well. I think we just need to stay away from each other.”
His chest tightened more.
“Until you're feeling better,” she quickly added.
“Beth, I'm fine, okay? I wasn't even there for myself, they were for Nia. I've broken it off with her, so things are going to be better now.”
“D, I'm not stupid. It wasn't Nia's fault,” Beth chuckled. “You know you're crazy, right? I almost died, because all you think about is yourself.”
Danny turned the phone away from his ear and took a few short rapid breaths. “I know you're angry right now. I'm going to ignore that last comment.”
He wanted to scream at her, but that wouldn't have done any good. Once he'd started doing coke, all his credibility had gone out the window. Any time he tried to defend himself, his family accused him of being under the influence. Code for “junkies don't have the right to be angry”.
“You can do whatever you want. Just don't lie to me.”
“I promise I'm sober. Things are going to be different this time.”
“I really want to believe you,” she paused, as if she were stifling a sob. “Take care.”
His shoulders slumped like the wind ripped from a sail. Thoughts of Emily and Beth swirled in his mind. He'd nearly lost his sister trying to please Nia. What had he been thinking?
His thoughts drifted to Emily. Her brown eyes had stared blankly at him. He'd mistaken it for the lovely euphoria coke can bring. But that blank look had been filled with a paralyzing pain. It was a familiar gaze. He'd seen it in the eyes of that woman. He replayed the image in front of Gary's. A soft “oh” had escaped her lips before her body slumped against him on its way to the sidewalk.
Beth's words echoed in his ear. “All you think about is yourself.” He'd walked away from her, because Robert had seen a photographer. Traded his comeback for someone's freedom.
He pushed through the revolving doors. He'd walked out of the dressing room thinking a walk would help clear his head, but now his thoughts were crystal clear.
Danny rode the elevator back to his apartment. Kevon was waiting for him in the living room.
“Where have you been, man?”
Danny grimaced. How low had he fallen? Even his so‐called bodyguard was interrogating him. “I was walking around Central Park.”
Kevon lowered his glare, but the tension in his stance was still there. He didn't believe him.
“Have you been drinking?
Another false dichotomy taught by Habit Relief. They believed his cocaine addiction would prevent him from having a healthy relationship with alcohol. Their solution was to abstain. His solution was to do whatever the hell he wanted, with the hope of one day showing them how wrong they were.
“Did you ever find out where that girl from Gary's lived?”
Kevon shifted his chestnut brown eyes. “The trail went cold.”
“Oh. How are the kids?”
Kevon frowned. “Fine.”
“You should call and tell ‘em you have vacation time coming up.”
“Oh yeah? How much time are we talking?” He took a sip from his mug.
Danny smiled. “The rest of your life.”
Kevon set his mug down on the coffee table. “Danny, be reasonable.”
His bodyguard was stonewalling. While his record label, Millennium, may have hired him, Danny had taken a peek at his resume and given the final okay. Before entering the private security market, his bodyguard had been a highly‐decorated officer, serving three years with the Brooklyn police department. They'd both watched the girl get arrested. If he couldn't find her, then who could?
“Kevon, I like you. Plus, I don't want to have Phyllis on my heels. I'm only going to say this once. You either work for me, or you work for Millennium. If it's the record label, collect your paycheck and spend the summer with the kids.”
Kevon's eyes shifted back and forth. A clear sign he was weighing Danny's words. “I'll make some calls. But I can't promise anything.”