Part 23:

 

This Is Your Reality

 

Pulling himself up on the window ledge, Dan scraped his shoes on the side of the house, trying to get enough of a toe hold to boost himself through the broken window.  

 

Once he had his leg up and over the ledge, he was able to pull himself through the window, before landing with a thud on his back to the rotting floorboards below.  Pausing, he waited a beat before rolling onto his stomach and making his way, commando-style, across the room.  

 

Every shadow made his heart jump, while each creak of the floorboards made him stop, wide-eyed, anticipating the big-ass, square-faced Mo coming around the corner to kick his ass into next week.  

 

But there was nothing.  

 

Nothing but the sound of Dan’s heart pounding in his ears.  

 

Making his way through the room, it appeared that he had reached some sort of hallway.  Once to the end of the hallway, he glanced to his left to see a flight of stairs leading up to the second floor.  Taking a deep breath, he knew that he had gone too far to turn back now, so, pushing himself up into a crouched position, he made his way slowly up the stairs, slivers of moonlight pushing through the burned-out ceiling above him, lighting his way.

 

***

 

Stepping back onto the elevator, Kevin hit the button for parking level 2, waiting for the doors to slide shut before giving in to the grief that was threatening to eat him alive.  

Leaning against the elevator wall, he slid to the floor, head in hands, as sobs wracked his entire body.

 

He had never felt so confused and utterly alone in his whole life.

 

“I miss you, Brian,” he moaned, dropping his head back over and over against the wall, as the elevator stopped and the doors broke apart.

 

Looking up through his tears, Kevin swiped a hand across his face as he pushed himself to a standing position, laughing at the irony that he would have to break down in an elevator when he only had a few floors to go, instead of some big high rise in New York.  “You’re a fucking pussy, Richardson,” he moaned, dragging a shaking hand through his hair as he walked slowly from the elevator to the car.  “A fucking pussy who needs a drink.”  

 

Trying to remember where the nearest bar was located, Kevin looked up to see that the piece of shit Ford Escort parked beside his Lexus had parked practically right on top of him.

 

“Great,” he hissed, turning sideways to scoot down the narrow gap between the two cars in order to climb in the driver’s side door.

 

Glancing over at the Escort, a scowl on his face, Kevin was considering leaving the asshole a note on the finer points of parking when he noticed a faded blue Kentucky baseball cap, just like the one Brian had always liked to wear, sitting on the passenger seat.

 

How ironic.

 

“What is this, some sort of sign, cuz?” Kevin said softly, glancing upwards, tears spilling freely down his face.  “A sign that I’m a shitty person for not being able to forgive Nick.  A sign that you want me to stop feeling sorry for myself?  A sign that you want fucking Kentucky to win at the State Championships this year.  What, Brian?  What are you trying to say?”

 

Pushing his key into the door of his car, Kevin pulled it open, roughly ramming a half-dollar sized dent in the door of the Ford Escort.  

 

“Serves you right for parking so close, asshole,” he mumbled, glancing over one last time as he was sitting down, something interesting in the backseat of the car catching his eye.  

 

“What the fuck?”  Standing up, Kevin got out of his car, slamming the door shut.  Turning, he leaned down, hands braced on either side of his face as he peered inside the backside passenger window of the Escort.  Sitting on the middle of the seat were a pair of bright red cowboy boots.

 

Everybody knew that Nick had purchased two pair of cowboy boots on the afternoon before the shootings, a pair of black boots for himself and a pair of red boots for Brian.  A thorough search of the home Brian had been renting never turned up any cowboy boots.  And when Nick was found in the warehouse, he had not been wearing any shoes at all.

 

According to the media reports, the boots Nick had purchased for himself and Brian had been one of a kind, so there had been no photographs available.  But Kevin distinctively remembered reading that, according to the sales clerk at the posh Beverly Hills shoe store, the boots were highly polished, intricately tooled leather boots with two different designs of birds on the side.  Just like the pair Kevin was looking at now.  

 

“Nice boots.”  Standing back from the window, a flash of the boots worn by the security guard that Kevin had ridden with in the elevator up to Nick’s floor popped in his head.  

 

“Nice boots.”  

 

Black boots with intricate tooling peeking out from beneath the cuffs of the man’s pants.  

 

“Nice boots.”

 

“Holy shit.”  Kevin turned, making his way quickly back towards the elevators.  

 

***

 

“Mo.”  

 

“That’s right, Nick.  Did you miss me?”

 

Blinking his eyes open, Nick was looking into the familiar eyes of the man who had caused him so much pain.  “Not really, you son of a bitch.”  

 

Mo smiled.  “Yeah, well, I guess I really didn’t miss you either.  Too bad you couldn’t have just died the first time around; it would have saved us both a lot of trouble.”  

 

“Maybe if you would have shot me in the head or something, but I guess your aim with that thing sucks.”  Nick nodded towards the gun on Mo’s hip.  

 

“I don’t think Brian would agree with you.”  Mo reached for the gun, pulling it slowly from the holster.  “Do you?”

 

Nick winced at Mo even speaking Brian’s name.  

 

“After I read about you in the newspapers, I thought about letting you live.”  Pacing the room, Mo slapped the barrel of the gun in his open palm.  “I figured maybe you deserved to be alive, after fighting your way back from the coma and all.  But then I decided that I couldn’t risk your memory coming back and you turning me in.”  

 

“Where’s Howie?”  Nick’s hand lightly caressed the gun that he had hidden beneath the bed sheet.

 

“Dead.  Howie is dead.”  Mo smiled again.  

 

“You killed him?”  Nick’s chin trembled slightly.  

 

“Slowly, but surely.”  Mo flipped over his watch to check the time.  “If he isn’t dead yet, he will be soon.”

 

***

 

Reaching the top of the stairs, Dan stayed crouched low as he walked along the wall to the first room on his left.  

 

The place smelled like wet dog and shit.  It was all he could do to keep from gagging, as he made his way into the center of the room, shadows twitching on all four sides of him.  Squinting, he could see that there was a door in the far corner of the room.

 

Walking slowly across the room, he pushed his hand out, feeling for the door handle.  Then, counting to three, he prepared himself for whatever may lie on the other side, as he slowly pulled the door open, moonlight spilling down through the caved-in roof to reveal the outline of what appeared to be two bodies.  

 

“Fuck.”  Jumping back, Dan was overcome by the heavy, metallic stench of blood wafting from the closet.  Jesus, were they dead or alive?  Was this some trick by this Mo guy to lure him into room to kill him?

 

Then one of the bodies moved.  

 

Ignoring all of his survival instincts, Dan lunged forward, dragging the top body out of the closet and dumping it on the floor as he felt around for a pulse.  

 

The mouth and nostrils of the man were bound heavily with duct tape, and his arms and legs appeared to also be tightly bound.  Dan fumbled around with his free hand to rip the layers of tape from the man’s mouth and pull the wadded up gag from between his teeth, still trying for a pulse.  

 

Looking down into the face of the man, Dan reached for his cell phone in his back pocket, as the man’s eyes opened, and he choked out a single word.  

 

“Nick.”  

 

***

 

Mo still paced Nick’s hospital room, babbling on and on, making Nick’s head hurt.  

 

“You know, St. Nick, I read all the shit about you in the papers.  About all the fame and fortune and popularity you achieved at such a young age.  I bet sometimes it didn’t even seem real to you, to have so much for doing so little.”  

 

“I don’t know,” Nick said softly, shaking his head.  

 

“Some people work their asses off their whole lives and don’t get even a quarter of what you have, and that is their reality.  And here you got some fucking reality that most people could never even dream of just for singing songs and looking pretty.  If you ask me, that’s fucked up.”  Mo glanced at the clock on the wall, aware that he was running out of time.  Soon the nurse would be returning to find that her star patient was dead, and the security guard was nowhere to be found.  

 

“This has been a great reunion and all, and I’d love to stay and chat longer, but I’ve never been one for long good-byes.”  Gripping the gun in his hand, Mo raised it, cocking back the trigger as he aimed it directly at Nick’s head.

 

“This is your reality now, Nick… are you scared?”

 

Raising the gun from beneath the sheet, Nick leveled it right at Mo’s heart.  

 

“No, Mo, I’m not scared… are you?”

 

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Mo’s mouth, as both men pulled their triggers.  

 

BAM!

 

***

 

 

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