Every Day (Brush of Love 2)

“They were coming for the drugs,” Bryan said.

“Yep. One night while John was there, some guys came into the studio looking for me, ripped me out of bed and held me by my neck and—”

I swallowed hard as I brought my hand up to my skin. I could still feel the tightness around my throat as the guy held me right up into the air, images of blood and screaming and John flashed to the forefront of my mind, and for a moment, I thought I was going to vomit.

“He held me by my neck and told me I’d be responsible for the money he was missing. Apparently, the art student was selling as well as giving out samples of her stuff. The guys who came sniffing around were looking to be repaid, and they were holding me responsible for it.”

“That’s bullshit,” Bryan said.

“I know. And John thought so, too.

He was there. He was the one who got the guy to let me go so I could breathe.”

I could feel Bryan’s eyes on me as I closed mine and sighed.

“I kept telling them I didn’t know anything about it. I didn’t know what was going on until they stormed my small little corner of L.A., and John was the one who eventually ran them out of the studio.”

“What happened after that?” he asked.

“John tried to convince me to lock up everything and come stay with him. He told me that he’d figure out a way to get me out of this, but I refused. I refused to let those thugs chase me out of my little slice of heaven, even if I had to build my classes up from scratch. I didn’t care. The only thing I had was that six-hundred-square-foot corner of L.A. I couldn’t let them take that from me. So, John came by every night. He brought a sleeping bag and slept on the floor when he wasn’t painting. He said he was watching out for me, wanting to make sure I was safe.”

“My brother did this. Sober.”

“Yes,” I said. “Your brother did all of this completely sober.”

I opened my eyes and connected them with Bryan’s. I felt tears sliding silently down my cheeks as his body slowly leaned forward. He was completely entranced with this side of John, a side of John he was obviously not familiar with.

But he wasn’t going to like how this story ended, and my responsibility would end whatever it was between us.

I could feel it.

“One night I woke up, and he wasn’t there. I just felt something wrong in the air. I left and kept calling out for him, but as I rounded the corner a few blocks away, I could hear those same voices, that same husky voice at my ear while he tried to squeeze the life from me.”

I watched Bryan straighten up and pull himself taut as I hastily continued.

“John was chattering about how they needed to leave me alone. How I didn’t know anything and how he could find a way to get them their money. All they had to do was leave us both alone long enough to do it. I heard a gun cock, and I pulled out my phone. I called nine one one in the hopes that someone would get there soon, b-b-but they just didn’t.”

I swallowed hard and took in a quaking breath before I hunched over and continued.

“The guy who grabbed me by the throat was telling some other guy to shoot him, and it was the other guy who mentioned covering it up. The guy who grabbed my throat noticed the pockmarks on your brother’s arms, so they took some of the drugs they were selling and shot him up.”

I put my face in my hands as my shoulders began to shake.

“He was gurgling a-and choking. They just left him there, and I was petrified. I sank to my knees and crawled to him. I covered his body with mine while I tried to keep him conscious. I could hear the sirens wailing in the distance, and I knew if I could keep him talking, he’d be all right.”

I felt my sob wracking my chest as my fingernails dug into my forehead.

“He just stopped. Everything just stopped,” I said breathlessly. “I rode with him to the hospital and tried to leave an anonymous report of what happened. I was petrified they’d come after me, petrified that everything John went through would be for nothing. But no one pursued my anonymous claim. I stayed on it for days before I appeared at the police station in person to talk with them, but no one listened to me. They told me it was obvious the guy overdosed and threatened to arrest me for making false claims or some shit.”

I drew in a shaking breath as my tears poured down my forearms. I could feel the bile rising in my throat while Bryan sat there rigid, listening to my words while my mind ran at a thousand miles a second.

“What prompted your move here?”

His voice startled my gaze up, and his eyes were trained on the wall behind me.

“What prompted your move to San Diego?” he asked.

“Well, um, I moved here originally because I was scared. I thought those guys were going to come after me, and I wanted to get away. I abandoned everything and fled, but then I saw that guy’s face on a news report. The guy that pulled me out of my bed that night died in some shootout when he was pulled over for reckless driving. That’s when I decided to make San Diego my home. I thought it was my good luck charm or some shit,” I said.