Home Again
His old life. It was here, standing in front of him, wearing designer jeans and long hair and a smile that held nothing but cynicism. And suddenly he wanted it again, wanted to be the same old shit-kicking hell-raiser he’d once been. He wanted that life that smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume.
Grinning, he stepped aside. “Valentine. Where in the hell have you been?”
“Trying to find booze in a town that shuts down at twilight—and sells liquor only in state stores.” He shuddered dramatically. “Christ, what an archaic custom.”
Angel led the way into the darkened cabin, turning on a few lights as he went. Val followed, his boot heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
Val set the bottle down on the table with a clunk. “Cuervo Gold. Your favorite.”
Angel looked longingly at the bottle. Could one drink really hurt?
The smoke tantalized him, swirled invisibly beneath his nose, leaving its stamp on the air.
Val collapsed on the overstuffed sofa, one arm flung out along the back. He tucked a long strand of hair behind an ear. “Nice furniture—what did you do, get a Ralph Lauren credit card?”
Angel thought of his high-rise in Vegas—the stark white walls and black leather furniture, the chrome and glass end tables, the bar that glittered in a dozen shades of gold when the lights came on. “Madelaine picked this stuff out.”
One eyebrow shot upward. “Ah …”
Angel saw the cynicism in his friend’s eyes
, the inability to understand or appreciate a home like this, or a woman like Madelaine, and again he felt adrift and lost. A man who didn’t belong anywhere. He thought suddenly of Lina, of the way she looked at him—as if he hung the moon—and the things she asked of him without even opening her mouth.
Be my daddy … I love you … be there … be there … be there…
He would only disappoint her if he tried to be a real father. What the hell did he know about being a father? And yet, he’d break her heart if he failed.
“Have a drink,” Val said softly, moving the bottle toward him.
Angel took a step toward the table, his eyes trained on the tequila. Val’s soft, metered voice echoed through him, and he knew it was what the devil’s voice would be like, soft and soothing and reasonable. And it would say what you wanted to hear….
He went so far as to reach out, to curl his fingers around the warm glass. He lifted the fifth, twisted it open, and smelled the pungent, sweet aroma of the liquor. He wanted to drink it all in one heady gulp, let the tequila flow down his throat and pool firelike in his gut, wanted to let this liquid take everything away—even if it only lasted for a night.
But he knew that if he had one drink—just one—he’d crawl into that bottle and find himself back where he’d begun.
He closed his eyes. Shaking, needing that drink so badly he felt queasy, he slammed the bottle back down on the table. “I can’t do it, Val.”
Val frowned. Something flashed through his friend’s eyes—was it jealousy, or fear? Angel couldn’t be sure. “You always do it. The other heart attacks—”
“It’s not the same anymore. It can’t be. I… I have a kid.” He smiled. It was the first time he’d said the words out loud, and it made him feel surprisingly good. “Madelaine … you remember the girl I used to talk about?’ At Val’s quick nod, he went on. “Seems she—we—had a baby all those years ago. Her name is Lina and she’s sixteen years old. I told her I’d quit partying if she would.”
“Sounds like she’s your daughter, all right.”
Angel laughed uneasily. “She is.”
Val released a sigh. A silence fell between them, and it was a long time before he spoke. “I’m proud of you, Angel. I always told you you were stronger than you thought. God knows you’re stronger than I am.”
“I’m not strong.” He said the words quietly, wondering if Val even heard them.
“I was thinking of heading for New York—they’re looking for someone to play the Green Hornet. I thought you might be interested, but … I guess not.”
Angel stared at his friend and knew this was Val’s way of saying a longer good-bye, of pulling back from a friendship that could never again be what it was. It hurt, knowing what was happening, but Angel understood.
“It’s okay, Val.” He said the easy words, the expected ones, though he knew that Val saw the truth in his eyes, the disappointment and the regret. “Keep in touch.”
Slowly Val got to his feet. “You’re gonna make it, Angel.”
Angel nodded, though he wasn’t so sure. “Yeah. Sure I will.”