Might as well get started.
Sam had put the bar between the two bedroom entrances so he could slide right in there every morning and whip up a quick pre-work screwdriver. He kept it stocked like an uptown nightclub. I walked around the counter and grabbed a bottle of vodka off the shelf. Popping open the little fridge under the bar, I took out a bottle of diet tonic water and the little glass bowl of sliced limes. I mixed the drink and took a sip. The rough edge of the boring night faded a bit and I walked over to the purple, gold, and green desert impressionist painting hanging on the far side of the condo. I’d painted it the year before I met Sam and it was the last work I’d done since.
I took a sip of my drink. Time lost.
Three sharp knocks hit the door like a spastic judge’s gavel and my shoulders slumped.
There was only one person besides me and Sam who could make it up here without the doorman calling first
, and I was in no mood to deal with him.
I went to the door, took another sip of my drink, and opened it up to see Sam’s son, Talon, looking scrawny as ever in a black suit and open-collar black shirt.
“Hey, Sara,” he said as he walked past me.
Nine years as his stepmom and he wasn’t going to be calling me “mom” anytime son.
Not that I wanted him to.
Talon walked straight to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch. Sam had been letting the twenty-three-year-old drink since he was fifteen and, if nothing else, the kid wasn’t a cheap drunk.
I noticed his hand jittering as he raised the glass.
“Where’s my dad?” Talon asked just before he took a drink.
“He’s out with his buddies. How’s school?” I asked, walking towards the bar.
“I’m quitting,” he said and walked around the bar to the window. He took another drink and stared out at the city.
Talon was a motor mouth but he seemed to be taking the night off, so I walked over to the leather couch in front of the TV and grabbed the remote, flipping the TV on.
In the corner of my eye I saw Talon kill off his drink and go back to the bar to make another. That was quick—even for him.
“Everything all right?” I asked as I switched the channel.
“Everything’s fine. I just need to see my dad.”
I bet you do.
The TV flickered and switched channels. I changed it back and it switched again. I hit the back button again and white static swarmed over the screen.
“Damn it,” I said quietly, trying a few different channels. I bit my lip and glared at Talon. Things just went bad when he was around.
The kid didn’t look good, though. His thin arms and hollow cheeks made him look like he hadn’t eaten a real meal in a week and he had dark pockets under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in a few days.
Talon suddenly swatted at the air and then downed his drink, made another, and hurried into his old bedroom where he still crashed a few times a month. He slammed his door and I rubbed my face. I’d rather have him lock himself in there until Daddy came home then deal with him, but the mom—or stepmom—in me was a little concerned for him and I walked to his door. When I got to the door I turned the knob but it felt like a sumo wrestler was pushing back on the other side.
“Talon, let go of the door.”
He didn’t budge and I pushed harder but got nowhere—for an alcoholic runt the kid sure was strong.
“I’m not touching the door,” Talon said, his voice sounding thin and flat, like it was coming from the far side of the room.
The door suddenly swung open and I stumbled into his room.
Talon stood ten feet away staring out his window.
“God damn it, Talon,” I said, rubbing my hands together, “I don’t know how you did that but I will—”
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Talon asked, still staring out the window.
My blood cooled a bit and I pushed my hair back and walked over to him. “What’s going on, Talon?”
“Two weeks ago I got into a high stakes poker game with this old guy. When it was over I was down 70k. I told him it would take me a few months to get the money together. The guy freaked out and started screaming. The next thing I know his face turned purple and he had a heart attack and died on the spot.”
“Jesus, Talon,” I said, rubbing my forehead.
Talon put his hand on the window. “A few days later is when it started.”
“What started?” I asked taking a step forward.
He turned his head to me, “This. He’s come back to collect.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, “Talon, look, have you thought about seeing somebody? You’re partying and gambling a ton, now you’re saying you’re dropping out of school—”
“You’re not my freaking mom, Sara,” Talon said as he looked back out the window again. He took a breath. “The first time it showed up was last Wednesday. It would blow in my ears, whisper to me when I was trying to sleep, slam doors.”
I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation. I knew Talon used drugs, but I didn’t know how much. Maybe he was having a nervous breakdown or even a psychotic episode. “What would he whisper to you?” I asked.
Talon said nothing and just stared out the window.
“Talon.”
“What the hell do you think—that I owe him!” he snapped. He looked down and ran his hand through his scraggly black hair. “The morning after the first night, when I went outside I saw a very faded ace of spades kind of printed on the door of my apartment. It was really dull, almost not
