Dirty Princes (Hot Candy 3)

Reading you loud and clear, boss. Not that I expected anything else.

Living on the poverty threshold means you have to be like Superman. Never sick. Never tired. Never in need of time off. Never late because you’re stuck in traffic or your brother is on the streets, shooting up or hustling for drugs.

Fuck. FUCK. Maybe he isn’t.

But I don’t hold out much hope.

That would be stupid. Always expect the worse. You’ll most often than not get it.

***

Xavier isn’t home.

I knew it. What I don’t know is where to find him. How to convince him to return home. To tell me the truth.

How do you handle a grown man, an adult who doesn’t want your help even though it’s obvious he needs it?

Where do I start?

I lean against the sofa and close my eyes. A headache is wrapped around my skull like a python, squeezing until I think my eyes will pop out—and my back is on fire.

All in all, life sucks right now.

Sighing, I make myself get up and head back out. It’s cold, too cold to risk Xavier spending the night outdoors, especially if he’s stoned, or hallucinating, or something equally bad.

Wrapped up in my jacket and scarf, a weight on my chest, I make my way down the stairs. With my luck, I’ll be hit by a blizzard the moment I step outside the door.

It doesn’t happen, although the air is sharp like glass and smells like snow. With winter closing in, Xavier’s forays out into the world with his so-called friends and whatever it is he’s using to shut out reality will turn more and more dangerous. So many homeless die from the cold.

Bowing my head against the chilly breeze traveling up the street, I set out to look. There are a few places where I know he might be—a bar, a coffee shop, a park—but if he’s inside someone’s apartment…

I check the coffee shop first, but no dice. Next is the bar, and there I pop some more painkillers. They aren’t doing much, but the idea they are killing my pain is attractive and a bit soothing.

The small park is empty.

Or so I think as I squint in the half-dark, between the pools of light cast by a few streetlamps. Wait, I see movement.

Two seconds later I see the glint of blond hair, and for a moment my mind flashes to Ryan with his green eyes and crooked grin.

But it’s not. It’s my brother, and my heart sinks before it lifts again. I’ve found him. He lied. He’s not shacked up with anyone. He’s in this deserted park in the heart of the city, in the dark on a winter night, in the company of…?

I squint harder, which ratchets up the headache pounding against my skull, and make out a skinny guy in a ratty hoodie and jeans. He’s holding something.

A small plastic bag.

With a curse, I march toward them, cutting through a bunch of bushes, just as Xavier takes the bag and hands the guy some cash.

“X! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He flinches, eyes narrowing. He clutches the bag in his fist. “What the fuck?”

“What’s that?” I make a grab for the bag, but he shoves me away. Xavier’s more slender than me, and his strength shocks me. “What’s in there, X?”

“None of your goddamn business.” He’s backing away, and I make another grab for him.

“You can’t stay out the night. It will snow. Come home.”

He shakes his head, his shaggy blond hair falling in his eyes. “You go home, Rid. There’s nothing for me there.”