Thicker Than Water
"You're sure you don't want me to come with you?"
Sandy's face is concerned, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. Ryan shakes his head.
"No. I need to do this on my own. I promise I'll call if there's any trouble."
Sandy passes him a small piece of folded note paper.
"This is all he could find. Not much, but it should help."
Ryan nods and tucks it safely in his back pocket. Kirsten passes him a brown paper bag with a snack lunch in it and he accepts it
gratefully.
"Call when you get there."
Taylor moves forward and pulls him into an embrace.
"Be careful. I love you."
He lingers in her arms momentarily and then pulls away.
Las Vegas is hot. Hot and dusty. Hot and dusty and tawdry. Ryan walks along the sidewalk past the tacky neon signs and
the dimly lit, sleazy motels that sit behind them. It's evening and the sidewalks are littered with groups of twenty
somethings, as they head away from the cheaper part of town towards The Strip. Outside the bars and on the street
corners, women linger, their legs covered to their knees with cheap fake leather boots, their faces overly made up with
streaks of red lipstick that glare offensively, even against such a backdrop. The Lady Luck Casino is easy to find, even
considering that the second L is missing. Ryan can imagine what the locals mentally replace the missing letter with. It
doesn't look like any piece of luck has landed here in a long time. He pulls open the glass door and steps into the darkened
room. The film of smoke that hovers over the tables and between the slots indicates that this place doesn't adhere to the
Nevada Clean Indoor Air Act.
He sees him immediately. He's shuffling cards at a Blackjack table, the cigarette in his mouth dangling precariously close to
the edge of his lips. Glancing around, it doesn't look like a cigarette burn on the green felt surface would make much
difference. It's faded and worn and reminds Ryan far too much of his childhood trips to Reno. His brother is thinner than
Ryan remembers and his eyes are slightly sunken, like he hasn't seen daylight in a very long time. He deals the cards like a
pro and Ryan supposes he should be thankful that Trey is here, where the private detective said he would be, and not in
some back room dealing something stronger than the thin pieces of grubby cardboard. Trey sees him right after he has
dealt the cards to the two old timers sitting at the table. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and stubs it out on a
small, foil tray lying nearby. He drops his head and murmurs into the ear of one of the players. The old guy nods, taking a
quick glance in Ryan's direction, and throws his hand onto the table. Getting up, he takes up Trey's position. Ryan stands
at the entrance and waits for his brother to approach him.
"I knew you'd come looking for me eventually."
"Not my choice, trust me."
"Then why are you here?"
"I need your help."
Clearly this is the last thing his older brother expects to hear. He snorts in amusement and fishes in his pocket for his
Marlboros.
"Yeah, right, LB."
Ryan doesn't laugh. There's nothing remotely funny about all this.
"I'm serious."
Trey looks his brother directly in the eye and his mocking smirk disappears, replaced by an equally unattractive hardened
gaze. Ryan presses on. He's here now, against his better judgment, and certainly against his own desires, so he might as
well get to the point.
"Julie has a little kid. The kid is sick. Needs some bone marrow."
Ryan watches as Trey processes.
"What the fuck does that have to do with me? I'm not related to Julie."
Ryan knows now that Trey has no idea what's happened in his absence.
"Wait," Trey starts, and an amused admiration spreads across his face."You've been fucking your girlfriend's mom?"
Ryan says nothing but his eye twitches. It's ever so slightly, and someone who doesn't know Ryan really, really well would
probably miss it. But Trey does know Ryan really, really well and he doesn't. He swallows and tries to backtrack.
"Hey, man, I was just joking. But shit, are you gonna tell me how I've ended up with a kid that's related to me, and it's
Julie's?"
"You didn't know you had another kid brother?"
Even now, six years later, the idea that he has two blood siblings still surprises Ryan. Trey's eyes grow wide.
"Dad?"
Ryan shrugs at the absurdity of the situation while Trey's mind does the math.
"So wait, you and Marissa….you guys share a half brother? Man, that is too weird."
Trey is genuinely bemused and doesn't notice Ryan's face at the mention of Marissa.
"Marissa's dead."
Ryan's known since he set out on this journey that he would most likely have to explain things – things he forces himself
not to think about, but still, once he's said them, Ryan wishes he could snatch the words back. They hang in the air too
long, like a guest overstaying his welcome, and he wishes he could tuck them away, back in the place that he chooses not
to visit. Trey has the decency to look guilty, upset and sorry all at the same time.
"Fuck, Ryan, fuck. Man, I'm so sorry."
He puts a hand out and grips Ryan hard on the shoulder.He doesn't ask what happened and Ryan doesn't offer up a blow
by blow account.
"I can't watch Julie lose another kid."
Ryan's words are flat, bald of emotion, yet the desperation seeps through.Trey nods and straightens, seeming to transform
suddenly into someone who might actually be responsible.
"What do you need?"
"We've all been tested," Ryan answers. "Me, Dad, Julie, Kaitlin, all of Julie's family. No one's a match. You're our last
hope."
Fate has a way of playing cruel tricks, thinks Ryan, as he lays it all out to Trey. He's not sure what would be more painful for
Julie, for Trey to be a match, or for him not to be. He doesn't mention that she knows nothing of this visit. She hasn't
suggested Trey and no one else has mentioned him in her presence. Only the Cohens, behind closed doors, with Taylor
and Frank, have discussed this. If he turns out to be a match, then they'll deal with that. If he isn't, then Julie doesn't need
to know.
Trey sits outside the hospital and lets his skin soak up the midday sunshine. He's forgotten how good it feels. Seven years
on the night shift will do that to a person. Ryan finishes up the paperwork inside. Sandy has organized everything from
Berkeley. All he's had to do is turn up and give up a test tube of the red stuff. He puffs on the last cigarette he has with
him. Ryan has helped him work his way through half the pack he brought with him while they've been waiting. From the
concrete pillar he's perched on, he can see the ride on the Strip that for months after he first moved here freaked him out
just to look up at. He's like his brother in that way. Heights have never been his thing. His foot taps the cement – part
nervousness, part impatience. He doesn't have long to wait. The doors slide open and his kid brother strides up to him,
documents flapping in his hand, his lips set tightly together. He takes the cigarette out of Trey's mouth and discards it on
the ground.
"You don't drink again, you don't smoke again, until I tell you you can, got it?"
Trey slides off the pillar.
"Where are we going?"
As if he hadn't guessed.
"Newport," his middle brother replies and strides past him without a backward glance.
The End