Thin Air

I felt a buzzing in my head and a buildup of power along my spine. You can fry him like an egg, I thought. Erase any trace of this asshole. It’d be a public service. Except that I wasn’t a murderer, and I didn’t aspire to become one, either. I controlled my anger and directed it in less mutilating ways. “So tell me, was Sarah already an addict when you brought her to this little paradise, or did you start her on that once you got her here, just to keep her occupied?” I asked. “And don’t give me any you-didn’t-know bullshit. I know, and-” And I just met her. I didn’t want to say that, though. One thing about Eamon: He was inspiring me to keep my cards close to my vest. “And I don’t live with her.”

I thought I saw a deep flash of something in his eyes, quickly hidden. Anger? Appreciation? No idea. He was pretty hard to read, all around. His physical cues-a relaxed posture, friendly smile, graceful and gentle gestures-were all completely at odds with what I sensed was going on inside of him. Tightly controlled, this guy. And dangerous. I was sure of that part.

“Hardly my master plan. Sarah was bored,” he said. “I didn’t encourage her, but no, I didn’t stop her, either. It keeps her…relatively content. And I’m sure you know that Sarah can be demanding. She’s always going on about how much she misses her old life, with all her country club friends and shopping sprees. And while I’d love to give her that life…well. It’s not possible, given what I do.”

“And what is it you do?” I asked.

“Oh, love,” he said. “You know exactly what I do. I’m a criminal. I’m a very bad man, and if you don’t remember that, well, there’s something very wrong with you, isn’t there? And that can only work to my advantage.”

The trailer was starting to close in on me. I was thinking wistfully of open forest, cold, sharp air, the company of David and Lewis. Good times, even if I’d thought I’d been suffering. This was suffering, right here. What my sister was going through with this asshole was real suffering, and he had every intention of spreading the joy to me, too.

“What do you want?” It came out harsher than I intended. My hands were curled into fists, and I forced my aching fingers to straighten out.

Eamon smiled at me, the same blindingly charming smile he’d used on Sarah. Luckily I was wearing my cynical sunglasses. “You don’t remember, do you? None of it. Not Qui

“What do you want?”

“Almost nothing, really. I just want you to change the weather,” he said. “See? Couldn’t be easier. Do that, and I’ll forget the money you owe me, the favors you failed to perform, and I’ll put your sister into rehab and part ways with her for good. I’ll leave you and yours strictly alone in the future. In short, I’ll give you everything you want, Joa

“In exchange for changing the weather.”

“Exactly.”

“Where?”

“Ah.” His teeth flashed, white and slightly crooked, just enough to give him character. I could see how Sarah got sucked into this guy’s orbit; she didn’t strike me as especially strong, and Eamon just radiated competence. Bad competence, sure, but…“I’ll show you, but not until we have an agreement. Do we?”

“No. We don’t.”

“Damn. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to raise the stakes, but you really leave me very little choice.” The warmth drained out of his smile. “Things can happen to your sister. Terrible things. I’m not saying that I would personally do them, but such things can be outsourced these days, and it’s such a cold, cruel world for a sensitive woman with a drug problem, yeah?”

I was almost speechless with fury. “You-”

“Ah!” He held up a long finger and waggled it gently from side to side. “Let’s not insult each other. We both understand that Sarah’s a dependent personality; if I want her to stay with me, she’ll stay, no matter how I treat her. No matter how much I hurt her. If you want to ensure your sister’s future safety and happiness, you’re going to have to pay me off. And that means this one simple favor.”

“Fine,” I snapped. He raised his eyebrows. “What, you want me to sign it in blood? You’ve made your fucking point!”

Eamon sniffed the air. “Is that brimstone I smell? Love, I’m not the devil. I don’t require signatures, and I wouldn’t want your grimy, well-used soul, either. Don’t play the i

That spoke volumes about things I didn’t remember, and was glad I couldn’t. I shuddered, but I did it inside, where he couldn’t see. “Let’s leave the past out of it,” I said. “So I do this thing for you, and you’re out of my life? Out of my sister’s life?”

“Once and for all,” he said. “Truthfully, I’m a bit sorry I ever came back into it. She’s…difficult. But I did-and do-care about her. Please believe that. It’s not all about leverage. If it had been, I’d have kicked her to the curb weeks ago, when she ceased to be amusing.”

Strangely, I did believe that. Or wanted to, anyway. “I wish you had,” I said. “She’d be better off.”

He gave me a pitying look. “When I take the trash to the curb, I put it out in plastic bags,” he said. “Think, love. I never claimed I was a good catch. But in my own way, I have tried to do my best for her.”

“Just not enough to keep her off of drugs,” I said.

He shrugged. “The only person who can keep Sarah clean is Sarah. You know that.”

Eamon’s philosophy of personal responsibility was convenient, to say the least. I got up and paced the trailer’s worn carpet. The floor creaked. Eamon watched me without appearing worried about anything I might do; I stopped near a lopsided scattering of framed photographs and stared.

There I was, with my arm around Sarah. Happier times, clearly; I had a smug grin, and she looked rosy and glowing with happiness. Younger, both of us. There was another photo next to it of an older woman sitting on a beach, looking out to sea. There was a contemplative air to the picture, and a kind of sadness. I reached out and touched the face with a fingertip.

“I haven’t seen this in years,” I said. I was taking a guess that Eamon wouldn’t bother with family photos-if he had, and I was pointing at a picture of his dear old mum from Manchester or wherever, I was probably screwed. He already knew my memory was faulty; I just didn’t want him to know the extent of it. He’d probably assume it was confined to a specific period-hell, I’d have assumed that, in his place. The alternative would have seemed ridiculously unlikely.

Whatever he thought, he just said, “Sarah loves that photograph. She said it was your mother’s favorite, as well. You took it, didn’t you?”

I decided the safest course was not to answer. I picked up the picture and stared at it, trying to read its secrets. My mother. What had she been like? Had she been protective? Proud? Absent? Abusive? So many questions, and I knew I wouldn’t get the answers here. Not out of Eamon, anyway.

“Not that I’m unsympathetic to your current stroll down Memory Lane, love, but there’s a deal on the table,” Eamon said. “And you know how much I like to close deals.”

Some dark, velvet tone of amusement in that made me put the picture down and turn to look at him. I hadn’t, right? Oh, tell me I hadn’t slept with my sister’s skanky, possibly homicidal boyfriend.