sympathy.
“Yeah—all sorts of stuff from my car that they decided they needed. My sports jacket, water, my painkillers, my fuckin’ Taser….”
Jackson was starting to sound loopy, and Ellery asked, “Your insulin?”
He got a grunt in return. “I’m not diabetic,” Jackson muttered.
“Hypoglycemic?”
“Not diagnosed,” he admitted grudgingly. “I just need a fuckin’ granola bar or something. God, that would be awesome. And some ice. And some Motrin. And some—”
“Jack in the Box,” Ellery muttered with distaste. “We’ll have to settle for that.”
Jackson grunted and threw himself back against the seat. “Chipotle?” he asked plaintively. “I’ll buy.”
“If you walked into a Chipotle right now, you’d scare the customers,” Ellery said. “I’ll buy. Where do you live, and where’s the one nearest your house?”
Jackson groaned. “Ugh…. Okay, where the fuck are we again?”
“Well, we just passed a junior high—”
“ Fuck— can you find Northgate? Take a right on San Juan and a right on Truxel. There’s probably one closer to my house, but—”
“Yeah, thinking’s a problem right now.”
“It’s been a day!” Jackson snapped. He took a breath. “How’s K?”
“A lot calmer than I would be,” Ellery admitted. “His sister got a chance to visit. They’re sweet together.”
Jackson gave a half laugh and tilted his head back. “Yeah. J and K—always had each other’s backs. Good people.”
“How long—”
“Grade school,” Jackson said, his voice going sour. “We just passed it. I’m going to close my eyes for the rest of the tour if that’s okay.”
Ellery swallowed. He should just stay quiet. He and Jackson had a lot of business to take care of that night. Once Jackson got some food and some first aid, Ellery needed to run a lot of shit by him, because his conversation with Arizona made no goddamned sense and Jackson might have some insight. So yeah. Long night. Leave the guy a—
“This is sort of a rough neighborhood.” Apparently keeping your mouth shut was not the hallmark of a great defense attorney.
“This is a garden spot right here,” Jackson snorted, eyes still closed. “You should have seen it in the nineties.”
“Tell me.” Because the neighborhood had shaped them, hadn’t it? Jade, Kaden, and Jackson. Had made them the tight-knit little band of musketeers they were.
“What’s to tell? Bad neighborhood is bad. The nineties were… well, drugs, gangs, guns—that was the nineties. I mean, they’ve cleaned it up some. The schools started working with the parents who started working with their kids—there’s a whole new thing going on. But back then the good parents were just, you know, good parents .Jade and Kaden’s mom was one of the best. Me and Kaden had each other’s six all through school, so she was good for me too.”
“What about your own—”
Jackson grunted. “Cramer, you know, I got shit for sleep last night, okay? Do I have to tell you about my day? And you and me got shit to sort. I have basic needs right now. I’ve got to fucking eat or I’m going to fucking kill you right fucking now. Some water would be perfect . Motrin would be better. Ice would be icing. And I need to feed my fucking cat, because he got left inside this morning, and if he hasn’t crapped on my bed, he’s probably eaten something I cherish.”
“You have a cat?”
“ Arrrrgh !”
“I’m turning right—are we a grown-up now?”
“Fuck you.”
And that, apparently, was that.
Ellery left him to bleed in the car while he got them food, sodas, and a couple of bottles of water. When he stopped at the gas station for painkillers, Jackson handed him his takeout wrappers, neatly and psychotically rolled into the little round balls, and asked him nicely to put them in the trash.
He came out with a cup of ice, a towel, and Motrin, and was greeted with a genuine—if tired—smile. One that had teeth and made the little
“Yeah—all sorts of stuff from my car that they decided they needed. My sports jacket, water, my painkillers, my fuckin’ Taser….”
Jackson was starting to sound loopy, and Ellery asked, “Your insulin?”
He got a grunt in return. “I’m not diabetic,” Jackson muttered.
“Hypoglycemic?”
“Not diagnosed,” he admitted grudgingly. “I just need a fuckin’ granola bar or something. God, that would be awesome. And some ice. And some Motrin. And some—”
“Jack in the Box,” Ellery muttered with distaste. “We’ll have to settle for that.”
Jackson grunted and threw himself back against the seat. “Chipotle?” he asked plaintively. “I’ll buy.”
“If you walked into a Chipotle right now, you’d scare the customers,” Ellery said. “I’ll buy. Where do you live, and where’s the one nearest your house?”
Jackson groaned. “Ugh…. Okay, where the fuck are we again?”
“Well, we just passed a junior high—”
“ Fuck— can you find Northgate? Take a right on San Juan and a right on Truxel. There’s probably one closer to my house, but—”
“Yeah, thinking’s a problem right now.”
“It’s been a day!” Jackson snapped. He took a breath. “How’s K?”
“A lot calmer than I would be,” Ellery admitted. “His sister got a chance to visit. They’re sweet together.”
Jackson gave a half laugh and tilted his head back. “Yeah. J and K—always had each other’s backs. Good people.”
“How long—”
“Grade school,” Jackson said, his voice going sour. “We just passed it. I’m going to close my eyes for the rest of the tour if that’s okay.”
Ellery swallowed. He should just stay quiet. He and Jackson had a lot of business to take care of that night. Once Jackson got some food and some first aid, Ellery needed to run a lot of shit by him, because his conversation with Arizona made no goddamned sense and Jackson might have some insight. So yeah. Long night. Leave the guy a—
“This is sort of a rough neighborhood.” Apparently keeping your mouth shut was not the hallmark of a great defense attorney.
“This is a garden spot right here,” Jackson snorted, eyes still closed. “You should have seen it in the nineties.”
“Tell me.” Because the neighborhood had shaped them, hadn’t it? Jade, Kaden, and Jackson. Had made them the tight-knit little band of musketeers they were.
“What’s to tell? Bad neighborhood is bad. The nineties were… well, drugs, gangs, guns—that was the nineties. I mean, they’ve cleaned it up some. The schools started working with the parents who started working with their kids—there’s a whole new thing going on. But back then the good parents were just, you know, good parents .Jade and Kaden’s mom was one of the best. Me and Kaden had each other’s six all through school, so she was good for me too.”
“What about your own—”
Jackson grunted. “Cramer, you know, I got shit for sleep last night, okay? Do I have to tell you about my day? And you and me got shit to sort. I have basic needs right now. I’ve got to fucking eat or I’m going to fucking kill you right fucking now. Some water would be perfect . Motrin would be better. Ice would be icing. And I need to feed my fucking cat, because he got left inside this morning, and if he hasn’t crapped on my bed, he’s probably eaten something I cherish.”
“You have a cat?”
“ Arrrrgh !”
“I’m turning right—are we a grown-up now?”
“Fuck you.”
And that, apparently, was that.
Ellery left him to bleed in the car while he got them food, sodas, and a couple of bottles of water. When he stopped at the gas station for painkillers, Jackson handed him his takeout wrappers, neatly and psychotically rolled into the little round balls, and asked him nicely to put them in the trash.
He came out with a cup of ice, a towel, and Motrin, and was greeted with a genuine—if tired—smile. One that had teeth and made the little
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