Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One
Page 16

“Fuck no, wouldn’t work anyway. I do bowlfuls of blow when I feel so inclined,” Preppy said, taking another long drag and blowing it out the open window. “There’s a big difference between a party, and a problem, though, especially one that ends with an attempted high-dive off the water tower.”
“Point made.” I’d never needed a change in subject so badly in my entire life.
“Who’s been taking care of Mirna?” I asked. I felt stupid that I had to ask this question from a virtual stranger.
“I look in on her and so do a few of her friends and a few people from the church. She’s on a waiting list for one of those assisted living places in Sarasota. They could have an opening tomorrow or in six moths. They’re not sure.” He looked like he was thinking about something before adding, “It’s getting worse and worse, you know. She’ll have a few days where she’s out of it, but then suddenly she’ll go for weeks being just fine. This past week she was in and out, but mostly out. That’s the most I’ve seen her like that for,” Preppy said, confirming what I’d already thought but hoped wasn’t the case.
My heart sank. “Can I have time with her? I don’t deserve it. But once you tell her that I was one of the people involved in stealing from her, she won’t want anything to do with me, but I just want some time.” I paused. “Before it’s too late.”
“You can have time,” he said, eyeing me warily. “But I’ll want some stuff in return.”
“What…what do you want? I’ll do anything,” I asked, immediately regretting my choice of words. His amber eyes reminded me of rich dark honey as he stalked across the room. He stopped in front of me and startled me by untying the sash at my waist and pushing my robe over my shoulders onto the floor. I felt the heat of his stare as he raked over my naked body, lingering on the place between my legs. I pressed my thighs together and he laughed, biting his bottom lip.
I shivered, unsure if it was because of his intense inspection of my body, the air conditioning vent kicking on above me, or from good old fashioned fear. “Just tell me what you want,” I said, wanting whatever this was to be over.
Preppy chuckled. “Take care of Mirna. Help me fix this shit, too.” The glimmer of something evil sparked in his eyes, the same spark I’d seen on the water tower, and that time my shiver was because of fear. “And get yourself together. I need you to not look like the kid from the Jungle Book for what I have planned for you. Think less Courtney Love, more Jennifer Love.”
“Haha, funny. Is that all?” I asked, wary that I was getting off too easy and trying to avoid the need to knee him in the balls.
“Oh, that’s far from all, Doc.” He stepped back, and I bent down to gather my robe, covering myself quickly. “Far, far from all.”
Preppy went back to his work, and I left to find some real clothes. I was looking through drawers in my old room, hoping to find a t-shirt or pair of sweat pants, when Preppy appeared in the doorway.
“I forgot to tell you something,” he said, punching numbers on his cell phone and placing it back in his pocket.
“What?” I asked, pulling out an old boy band t-shirt from the bottom drawer.
“You remember what I said about using H again, right?”
“You mean when you said that either I break up with her or she kills me?”
“Yeah, well I forgot to add one tiny little thing,” he said.
“What’s that?”
He stepped into the room and lowered his voice. He stood over me, leaning on the dresser. His shoulder brushed mine. “If you do use again, make sure you’re far, far away from Logan’s Beach and Mirna first, because if you fuck her over again, I’ll kill you long before the heroin will.” He smiled happily, as if he hadn’t just threatened my life. “Mmmm…kay?”
CHAPTER TEN
DRE

Preppy had told me to take care of Mirna, but he still stopped by every afternoon to check on her before locking himself in the grow-room for at least an hour. Either, he wasn’t up for conversation, he was purposely avoiding me, or he hadn’t figured out exactly what it was I could do for him, in return for giving me time with Mirna. But then, I realized that wasn’t it at all. He wasn’t avoiding me. He was toying with me.
Every time he was near, he found a way to touch me and make me jump. He winked at me when Mirna wasn’t looking. He undressed me with his eyes every chance he got, and he’d laughed when I squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.
But talk?
Nope. Not to me, anyway. Although, with Mirna he happily chatted and made small talk, like he wasn’t there to torture me with his presence, the lingering favor looming between us.
I should have been happy he didn’t want to talk to me but was oddly annoyed by the whole thing.
I’d been out of society for too long. That must have been the real problem. My need for social interaction was probably the very thing that led me to believe that the psycho killer growing pot in my grandmother’s guest bedroom was someone I could have a conversation with, when in actuality I should’ve just taken a page from Preppy’s book and start talking to the damn pig.
Mirna and I had used our gift of time wisely, and over the course of several days we unburdened our souls and told each other everything there was to tell. Well, everything that wouldn’t have her tossing me out just yet. She hadn’t slipped back into her alternate state of confusion, and I was beginning to think I overreacted or made it more than what it was in my head.
Mirna now knew all the events that led up to me being back in Logan’s Beach, and she told me about being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s the year before.
There was a lot of crying. A lot of laughing. A lot of looking at old photos, and a lot of grieving over my mother, even though she’d passed when I was just a baby.
Mirna also told me that she wished she were still close to my father, but they were both in a lot of pain when my mother passed and it was too hard on both of them to continue being a family without her.
Physically, I was feeling better, although I was still fidgety. The want for heroin was there, but it no longer had its hands on the wheel. Thanks in large part to Mirna and her keeping me good and unconscious during the worst of my withdrawals, and the vitamin shots she insisted on giving me twice a day.