I watched the vodka drip down the wall where I'd hurled it. If I wasn't so terrified I would have been embarrassed by my outburst, but I couldn't stop the shaking. Deep breaths, one problem at a time. I need to wipe off the wall, pick up the glass, and then I could go die in Missouri. I let out a pathetic sob.
"Sam, I won't let anything happen to you."
I gave her a ludicrous look. How could such a tiny person stop anything from happening to me? Kimber had always been a little fireball, but this was madness. She raised her chin defiantly when she saw me assessing her.
"When are we leaving?" I asked, trying to keep my voice as composed as possible. All I wanted to do was retreat into my room where I could let the fear overtake me.
"In the morning." She said.
"That's fucking crazy, Kimber, we need time to plan. And I need the contact number for this 'source' of yours. We can't just go waltzing into town after a decade."
"I've had a lot of time to prepare for this - years in fact. Look, tomorrow, let's just get in the car and go and I'll have the entire 8 hour drive to convince you that I have a good plan."
"What the fuck is the rush, Kimber? You trying to be dead by Christmas?"
"Just trust me. I'll explain everything in the car tomorrow."
"You know it's already midnight."
"Yeah, I know. I've been driving all day - I'm tired as hell." She sighed.
"You just got in today."
"Yes."
"From LA."
"Close enough."
"Jesus Christ, woman. Do you have a hotel?"
"Not yet." She shrugged.
"You can stay here, then. With you talking so much crazy I don't trust your lunacy out in the city."
Kimber narrowed her eyes at me and then shrugged. "Fine by me."
"Okay, you can take my room. Give me a minute." Shattered whiskey glass forgotten, I left Kimber standing where she was and went back to my room. I flipped the light on and glanced around - my heart plummeted. The room was disgusting. I hadn't really looked at it in years; it was really just a place to watch TV or pass out. I couldn't remember the last time I had changed the sheets...or done any laundry. The girls who usually stayed over didn't care much what they were sleeping on. But this was no place for a girl like Kimber.
I stripped the bed as fast as I could and herded bottles, discarded needles, and empty cigarette boxes into the closet. I realized too late that I didn't actually have anything to replace the dirty sheets. I was so overwhelmed by the last 40 minutes that I felt tears start to well in my eyes. Get a hold of yourself, you pussy.
I jumped at a sudden knock on the door. Seth stuck his head in.
"Here." He handed me a stack of clean, folded sheets on top of a blue quilt. I wanted to hug him but I was still attempting to get my emotions under control.
"Thanks."
"Hey, so listen," he said slowly. "Does this mean, I mean, is all that stuff about Drisking true?"
I had never told Seth - or anyone else besides the feds - anything about Drisking. "What stuff?"
"Oh come on, man, I hear you talk in your sleep all the time. You say all sorts of fucked up stuff. That's why I'd heard your friend's name before - you've talked about her in your sleep."
"What are you talking about?" I said. "I don't even dream when I sleep."
"Yeah you do. You may not remember it but trust me, you do."
I didn't say anything and Seth started to leave. "Oh, one more thing. If you need anything while you're back home, just call me."
Home. Fucking Drisking was home.
Since I lived in a shitty neighborhood I walked Kimber down to her car to get her bag out of the backseat. She dropped her duffel on the thankfully dark carpet of my freshly cleaned room - which was still barely passable. At the very least I'd know she was here and safe. I'd always wondered if Clery and Prescott were having me watched. If they were, Kimber was in danger by just being in Chicago. It probably was a good idea to leave in the morning.
I settled down on the couch and pulled out my personal stash, which I'd pocketed while kicking garbage into my closet earlier. I needed it tonight of all nights and if it was going to be one of my last then I would make it count.
Thirty minutes later I floated down the familiar river of dark, dreamless sleep.
