"Is that you, little bro?" he heard his brother calling for him.
"Yeah, it's me," Jake spoke. "I'll make you something to eat."
"With your cooking, I might be dead by next week," Diaz joked.
Jake helped his brother up on to his good foot and then guided him to the kitchen table. At least he knew how to make scrambled eggs.
"How come you didn't go running back to that asshole?" Diaz asked as he ate.
"I'm no longer collateral," Jake spoke as he fiddled with the cutlery. "Whatever business he had with us, that's over."
Diaz seemed to ponder.
"I thought fags were pussy ass bitches. He did a number on me, the fucker."
"I tried to warn you," Jake said. "That guy, when he's not working, he's just training. He's into some weird shit kung fu stuff."
"You should have tried harder and fired that gun," Diaz mumbled.
"And have us both in jail? Or worse? You don't know this guy, Diaz."
"Yeah, I don't know him. But I thought I knew you. And you chickened out. So what if we ended in jail? This shit isn't a good life anyway. What do you do? Wash dishes?"
"Diaz, just stop it. Any kind of work is good. Especially in our situation."
"Why don't you go to one of those construction sites? They pay better, at least."
"I don't want to go back to work for him," Jake replied.
Diaz seemed to ponder.
"I suppose that would be shitty, yeah. But don't worry, once I'm on my feet, I'll be right back into action. And you won't have to wash dishes no more, little bro," he said.
Jake shrugged. Whatever plans Diaz had, he didn't want to hear. He could not give a damn about anyone's plans.
Later, after his brother fell asleep, he took out his phone and stared at it. Missed calls, unread messages. He had to get rid of the damn thing.
***
It was quite a surprise, Klaus thought, as his eyes bore into the papers in front of him like he wanted to burn a hole through them. A very unpleasant surprise. Like a shard of ice that made him feel cold from the inside. He frowned.
"Sir?" his secretary's musical voice brought him back to the real world. "Are the terms to your liking? You have not said a word. I can have the legal team ..."
"No, it is all in order, Martha," he smiled at the woman who seemed relieved.
Everything was in order except for one thing. And that had to be corrected. The past several weeks was enough time for things to settle down.
***
Jake felt like he needed three nights of sleep. Working two shitty jobs was enough to make him a little crazy. Or just very tired. At least, Diaz was on the mend. Soon enough, they were going to be both working, and that meant he could catch a bit of rest.
He kicked a stone and watched it roll. Until it hit a pair of perfectly shined shoes. His head shot up.
"I think it is time for you to come home now."
"That's exactly where I was heading until you blocked the way," Jake looked away with growing unease.
"You are not answering your phone, nor reading your messages. I believe this rebellious period should come to an end. You did not even go to work."
"Believe whatever the fuck you want."
The man started walking towards him. Jake looked around. The deserted street didn't look to have too many escape routes.
"I do not like repeating myself, Jake. Come home."
The hand on his wrist was warm, but Jake was done with being lulled into a false sense of security. He pulled his arm free.
"Or what? Are you going to put a bullet through my head? Or beat me bloody?" he spat.
Again, the blue eyes swam in hurt. Jake wanted none of it. Believed none of it.
"It is true that we need to talk."
"Talk about what? Are you for real, Klaus? You held a fucking gun to my head!" he pointed two fingers at his temple to emphasize his words. "Don't tell me that thing wasn't real!"
"It was real," Klaus sighed.
"Was it loaded?"
"Yes, it was loaded."
"For fuck's sake," Jake pushed his hands through his hair in despair. "What do you want me to say, huh? That I'm crazy enough to like playing Russian roulette with you? That shit ain't flying; I can tell you that!"
"Do you suggest that I could have hurt you? The safety was on."
"No shit," Jake spoke. "Well, I don't give a fuck anyway. I don't want your fucked up games. Just stop being in my way. Ah, and take this stupid phone. It's yours, anyway."
He took the phone from his pocket and held it. Klaus made no move to take it.
"I bought it for you. I do not want it back."
"Well, you should take it, because it's not mine, either. I am not going just to break it or throw away your property; it's too expensive."
"You can keep it."
"Fine," Jake pushed it back into his jeans. "I'll drop it by your house when I have the time."
He began walking. He could not stand one more minute to be around the man. He could not stand looking at him and think of all the stupid lies. And the time before. Before everything went to shit.
"I will wait for you, then," Klaus called after him.
***
Jake was entitled to feel hurt. But he should have known better. Klaus tossed and turned. The boy should have trusted him. It did hurt like a bitch. Something of Jake's language seemed to rub off on him.
And sleeping alone was a bitch, too. He gave up and went to the window to light another cigarillo. The prey was proving difficult to catch. Maybe he could start to corner it. Then Jake would have to talk to him. And he could settle things, explain everything, and they could go back to normal.
It felt unreal. Like a pain in his side that refused to go away. He could have just gone and forced the boy to come back. But the thought did not appeal. Jake had to want to keep up his part of the deal. After all, Diaz was free as a bird, despite being the most deserving of a few years behind bars in probably the entire town.
***
That was the fourth place where they said they didn't need any help. The situation was starting to feel creepy somehow. At least, Diaz was bringing home money, only he knew how. Jake didn't care to know, and he didn't want to get involved.
Maybe that was the sign he had been waiting for his entire life. This town was a dead end, nothing more. He could lie to himself all he wanted, but the thought of dying while peddling drugs or doing something stupid was not his idea. It was maybe his brother's, but not his.
There were a few loose ends to tie up. It hurt like a bitch, but it was needed. He felt so stupid for still caring for that asshole. But he would have rather cut his hand than grab the phone and call him. They were going to forget about each other. Klaus was probably already swimming in supermodels by now. And one day, maybe he was going to get together with someone else. Not like Klaus. That was as definite as the scar on his arm.
He went straight to the post office. Counting the few crumpled bills and change in his pocket, he spread them on the counter.
"I'd like to send a package."
***
"What's with you home so soon?" Diaz questioned.
"I can't seem to find a decent place to work in this shitty town," Jake shrugged. "I'm thinking about leaving."
