Pretty Thing (Naughty Things 1)

And is there any way to save it?

And what is the “it” I’m trying to save?

I wish I knew, But I don’t. I just know I feel empty and sad.

That night—last night—I slept for the first time in days. Crashed sitting up in a chair, Kyle’s message still playing.

But when I woke up this morning it had stopped because my phone was out of battery.

I walk into the bathroom and flick on the light. Stare at myself in the mirror in horror. Because I look like a walking dead man. No shower all week, barely slept, didn’t eat, stopped working, and talking, and living.

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask the stranger in the mirror.

And the answer I hear in my head is, The guy who betrayed his best friend’s last request. That’s who.

A knock at my apartment door makes me peek down the hall. “Who is it?” I yell.

“It’s me,” Clyde says, checking the door knob. Finding it unlocked, he opens it and walks in. “Just coming to make sure you’re still alive. I called your phone and it went straight to voicemail.” He stares at me for a moment. His expression unreadable. And says, “You look like shit.”

I huff out a laugh. “Thanks, I didn’t already know that.”

“So…” Clyde says. “You coming to work today? Or what?”

“Nope,” I say, walking into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Clyde waits as my little machine spits out dark brown liquid. I take a sip without bothering with sugar or milk.

“Well, that fucking Jeep has been on that lift for two weeks now and it’s in the way. You’ve got a real fucking mess down there. When are you gonna deal with that thing?”

I shrug.

Clyde does one of those nods. The kind that’s really just a chin lift, then a chin lower. The kind that says, Uh-huh, which he says out loud anyway. Then he sucks in a long breath and says, “Well, you know. You’re being a dick about this.”

“How do you figure?” I ask, taking another sip of coffee. “It’s my garage. I can keep a car up on my lift in my own bay as long as I want.”

He squints at me, pressing his lips together like he’s trying not to wince. “Very true,” he says. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then make your point, Clyde. Because I’m busy here.”

An eyebrow lift this time. “Busy, huh? OK. If you say so. I’m gonna state my piece and leave. And after that you do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Go for it,” I say.

“Kyle doesn’t give a fuck about you and Kali, and you know how I know that?”

“How?” I ask, playing along as I continue to sip my coffee.

“Because he’s dead. He’s fucking gone, OK? I don’t want to be harsh, but this bullshit needs to end. You need to take a fucking shower, change your smelly clothes, eat some goddamned breakfast, and get your ass downstairs where you belong. We’ve got ten jobs on the roster. There’s a two-month wait to get anything done when people call. And you’re up here worried about what a dead guy thinks of you dating his sister? Who, by the way, you’ve been in love with your entire life, even I can see that. Just… forget about Kyle. He’s gone, Aiden. Gone. He’s not haunting you with a stuffed animal. And for fuck’s sake, erase that goddamned message.”

“Fuck that,” I say, feeling hot as my temper boils. “He was my—”

“I know,” Clyde says. “But you’re taking shit way too fucking literally. Can’t you see?”

“See what?”

“He was fucking with you, Aiden. ‘You were my friend first?’ It was a joke, asshole. That’s it. Just an inside joke to make you laugh.”

“It wasn’t a joke, Clyde. He said stay away from my sister.”

“He did not say that! Are you fucking insane right now? Give me your phone, I’ll prove it to you!”

“Battery’s dead,” I say.

“So put it on the charger. I’ll prove it to you. You’ve gone crazy. You’re making shit up right now. And fine, you wanna be sad about your best friend’s death for a week or two? That’s totally cool, man. I get it. I miss him too. It was hard for us too. But this is week three and you’re not getting better, you’re getting worse. That’s not sad, that’s depressed. And if you don’t get your ass in that shower and do all that other shit I just told you to do, I’m calling your parents and letting them know you’re not handling this well and they should keep an eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me?” I laugh.

Clyde shrugs. Then he whispers, “This is crazy, Aiden. You are officially living in Crazy Town.” Then he exhales a long, frustrated sigh and says, “Delete that message and move on.”