Sorry, Charlie

by CHOOSELIFE

Third story in the Charlie series. This story picks up two and a half years after Drake's last overdose. Ricardo has forced him to clean up his act, but still Drake can't seem to get away from his past. Everyday is a fight to stay clean and now that he doesn't have his favorite red pills, his depression and anxiety are just as hard to kick as his drug addiction.

17. The Accusation

PREVIOUSLY ON SORRY, CHARLIE: Drake and Dahlia had a bad break-up, but he can't seem to fully release himself from her grasp. With the stress of everything going on, Julio started drinking until he became an alcoholic. He's currently sober. Drake returned home and met his daughter Charlie and he's trying his best to figure out this dad life thing.

In the last chapter, a tornado forced Drake and fam into the basement and sent him into a panic attack when the horrible memories of his father returned. Charlie spent her first night at Drake's house. Things went well until he woke up to find that she wasn't in bed next to him. He left the room and caught her before she fell down the staircase, where he assumed she had been following after one of the cats. This incident left him feeling guilty about scolding her and incompetent. He started to doubt his ability to parent, but Ricardo and his mom gave him encouragement and a confidence boost.

---

"Fuck, I'm outta breath," Drake whispered, then he looked over at Dee, who was squatted down next to him behind the kitchen island, seemingly unaffected by the strenuous activity. "How are you not even breaking a sweat?" he asked through his panting.

The physical trainer just smiled, then turned and peeked around the corner.

"I need to quit smoking." Drake's mouth was so dry he couldn't stand it. He checked to see if the coast was clear, then he crawled forwards a couple feet and carefully opened the refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of water, then silently closed it back and returned to his spot.

"Seriously?" Dee asked incredulously.

"I'm fucking dying, dude," he said defensively. He gently put down his Nerf gun and quickly drank some water. It wasn't enough to quench his thirst because he didn't feel comfortable being unarmed for long, but it would hold him over until the end of the battle.

When Dee showed up this morning, he'd brought five Nerf guns with him. Everyone was asleep except for Drake and Charlie, who he saw in the living room when he walked in. He gave them both guns — Charlie's small enough to fit in her hand and Drake's similar to the other larger guns — then they all snuck upstairs and pushed open the doors to the Santos brothers' rooms. After a silent countdown, they started blasting away — Drake waking up his best friend and Dee his boyfriend. Julio, who was always easily angered, started swearing immediately until the young father reminded him of the tiny ears that were present. Ricardo groaned and tried to take shelter underneath his comforter so that he could go back to sleep, but he got up when he heard Dee's voice. The attacking teammates both tossed Nerf guns at their opponents, then bolted downstairs. After a few eventful run-ins with the other team, they were now hidden and taking a breather.

"This is nice," Drake said, suddenly in his feelings. "I always get stuck with Julio, which is fine. It's just nice to switch it up every now and then." He was sure Julio felt the same way, too, because now he was getting the chance to spend quality time with his brother.

"It's gonna feel even better when we kick their asses."

Drake let go of a short laugh. When Dee held out his fist, he bumped it.

"No, asshole!" he whispered. "This means be quiet."

"Oh," he said. "Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that? I'm not a cop."

Despite what he'd said just moments ago, now he understood why he and Julio always ended up together. Dee and Ricardo took these wars so seriously and had all these hand signals that only they understood. Julio took it pretty seriously, too, actually, but he and Drake had a more chaotic tone to their strategy.

They both went silent as the faint noises Dee had heard got a little louder. They gripped their guns, prepared for war.

"Daddy?"

"It's a trap," Dee warned.

Drake ignored him and poked his head around the corner, revealing his position to her. "Over here, baby."

After a while of running and hiding, Charlie had gotten distracted by the cats and stayed back in the living room to play with them. She was still carrying her gun with her as she approached her dad, not bothering to hide or be stealthy. He lifted her and put her in between himself and his teammate so Julio and Ricky wouldn't find them.

"Shoo!" Dee said immediately, turning his head away.

"I poopin'."

"Charlie, you were supposed to tell me before you started," Drake said, "so we can run to the bathroom and use the potty like a big girl. Remember?"

She didn't really look like she was listening. Instead she wore a concentrated expression and was straining. Dee laughed when he saw it, then checked behind the corner again.

After a short while, Drake asked, "You done?"

The girl nodded.

"Alright, come on." He got back on his feet, but stayed squatted down as he went around Dee. He figured the foyer stairs were safer than the kitchen ones because his room was right at the top of them and it would be safer than having to travel down a hall and pass the other guys' rooms in case they were in there.

"Where you going?" Dee asked.

"To change her dipe-dipe."

"Now?"

"Yeah. We'll just sneak up there super fast and grab her bag and I'll change her in the closet."

"Alright. Go on and I'll cover you."

Before Drake had the chance to go anywhere, the kitchen door that led to the side of the house whipped open and the room filled with bullets and laughter. Because of the angle the Santos brothers had come from, Dee was right out in the open and pretty much a sitting duck, so he was sprayed with ammo until he fell over. Drake, however, was on the short side of the island and had cover, although very little of it. He gripped his gun in both hands and peeked over the edge for a short moment. He got one shot out before hiding again, but that one bullet made contact.

"Ahh!" Julio yelped as he dropped onto his knees.

"Sorry!" Drake called through his laughter, but he knew damn well he had aimed at his crotch on purpose.

Even Dee, dead on the floor, wore a grin and was struggling to remain silent.

"There's no place to go," Ricardo taunted in a sing-song voice. "You should surrender now while you have the chance."

There really was no place to go and it was incredibly unlikely that Drake was going to make it. He had to take a stand now, though, or else the man would just come around the corner and get them. However, instead of standing like what was expected of him, he did a somersault out into the open. This did catch Ricardo off guard, but he was still faster, probably because Drake had to take a second to recover since he forgot what it felt like to roll and flip on a hard surface. The oldest aimed his weapon, then pulled the trigger and Drake was hit square on the chest. He fell backwards.

"Charlie..." he said as if he couldn't breathe well. He weakly waved her closer. "Charlie...avenge...me..." And then he died, his body going limp, his head slack, his eyelids drooping and his tongue hanging out in a comical way to make his daughter laugh.

Charlie stepped out from behind the island and Ricardo shot in her direction a couple times, but missed on purpose. The little girl lifted the Nerf gun and pressed hard on the trigger like her dad had showed her. She had to use both hands because she wasn't strong enough. The bullet missed. She stepped closer. Missed again. She walked towards him until she was almost touching his leg with the barrel. All the while, Ricky kept shooting and missing. Now that she was sure she wouldn't miss, Charlie pushed down on the trigger once more, but nothing happened. She turned the weapon in her hand and looked at it with confusion.

"And she's out of ammo!" Drake said, narrating the story. He got onto his feet. "But just when it looked like all hope was lost for the heroes, Charlie used her secret weapon! It turns out all along that she's a superhero and has the power to turn into a giant, scary dinosaur! Raawwrrr!"

"Rawr!" the child imitated cutely, showing off her mean (adorable) face.

"So she grew and grew and grew—" Drake lifted her up so quickly that his daughter giggled with surprise. "—and when she got tall enough, the smell of her stinky diaper filled Rickevil's nose and knocked him out!"

Playing along, the man coughed and coughed and acted as though the odor was strangling him, then he dropped to the floor while the girl laughed with delight.

"Charliesaurus Rex saves the world from the bad guys!" he exclaimed. "Then she uses her magic dino powers to bring Daddysaurus Rex and Dee, um...Deeceratops back to life!"

Dee stood and posed, showing off his muscular biceps as if to say that death couldn't conquer him. "Raawwrr!"

"RAAWWWRRRR!" Charlie growled in response, still watching the scene from high up in the air.

Drake continued. "Then she used even more dino magic and brought the bad guys back to life, too, and turned them into good guys—"

The Santos brothers stood.

"—and they all became best friends and lived happily ever after! And Charlie returned to normal size because I am about to pass out." He put her back on the floor so that her diaper wasn't near his nose anymore." Whoo!" He fanned in front of his face.

The child jumped in celebration as they all clapped for her. "I did it! Yay!"

"Yay!" Ricardo cheered.

"Alright, let's go change your booty." Drake held her hand as he led her upstairs.

Once they were gone, Julio, showing his competitive side, said, "I don't give a fuck what Drake says. We still won."

---

When Julio entered the room, he found it to be a mess. Drake had bought his daughter a stuffed frog and some blocks — just a couple cheap things to entertain her here until he got his grass-cutting money again — and he brought some toy cars and a baby doll from his mom's. He also took her to the library yesterday after picking her up and he let her pick out a few books — one with a cat on the cover, one with a yellow dump truck on the cover and one with many vibrant, colorful balloons on the cover — while he picked up Assholes Finish First, the sequel to the last book he read. All of these were scattered around the living room. Charlie was occupied with the frog and doll while Drake, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor, pushed himself forwards a bit and reached for a few Cheerios that his daughter had dropped on the carpet.

"Yo," Julio greeted as he plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up. He reached underneath him and pulled out a block, then set it on the coffee table.

"Hey." He sat back on his bottom and put the dirty cereal in a pile on the table. "You can turn the tv if you want," he said, feeling guilty about Charlie taking over the living room.

Julio looked at the television and saw a man in a weird, orange jumpsuit, a bumpy red pickle, a yellow robot, a blue cat, a green striped monster with arms longer than the height of its body, and a pink...thing, with the body of a Hershey's Kiss and a flower atop her head. "What the..." He caught himself before he swore and continued on without that word. "—is this?"

"It's Yo Gabba Gabba!, her favorite show," he said.

His friend stared at the screen some more. After a moment, all he could say was, "Why?"

"It's alright actually. The dude's name is DJ Lance Rock and that's Plex." He pointed to the robot, then to the cat. "That's Toodee and he's Muno." The red pickle. "This one's Brobee. He's my favorite because he looks cute." He moved his finger from the green monster with noodle arms to the pink one. "And her name is Foofa!" He said it in a light, airy, high-pitched voice.

When Charlie heard his flawless impression, she ran towards him and sat down in his lap, still carrying her toys. She put her eyes on the tv.

"Well, my favorite is actually Gooble, but he's not a main character, so he's not in every episode. He kinda looks like a ghost, but with a frowny face and he cries a lot because he's depressed and I feel that." When Julio stared at him like he was weird, Drake just rolled his eyes and started singing along to the song. "Don't... Don't... Don't bite your friends." Charlie turned her head towards him and smiled, so he sang to her. "Don't... Don't... Don't bite your friends. We don't bite our friends. No way! We don't pull their hair. Uh-uh! Friends are our friends. Uh-huh! So treat them with care! Don't... Don't... Don't bite your—ew, not these. They were on the floor." He brushed the dirty Cheerios out of her hand, then stood her up. "Go eat those." He pointed to the opposite end of the table and she went, but she picked up her juice cup instead of the snack.

Despite what he'd said about the show, Julio continued to watch with intrigue and curiosity. Drake watched, too, but was interrupted a couple times, like when Charlie climbed into Ricardo's recliner and got on her feet in it and when she brought him her empty sippy cup. He trashed the bad cereal while he was in the kitchen and refilled her drink. When he returned to the living room, she was on the other side of it, playing with the stuffed animal he had bought her, so he put her cup on the table and sat down on the floor again.

More time went by before Julio said, "They had to be on drugs when they wrote this." His eyes moved to Drake when he didn't get a response and he saw his friend sitting slouched on the floor, his head hanging low as he rubbed his eyes. "You good?"

"Yeah. Just tired." He straightened his back completely until his bones popped, then he relaxed again.

"What time did you two get up this morning?"

"She woke up at five-thirty. I didn't get up until about six."

He'd woken up when he felt her slip out of bed, but he had no worries about it because he now had a childproof cover over the knob. There was no way that she could escape now. Even he struggled to get his door open when it was early and his muscles were still weak. Drake got out of bed only to turn on the Yo Gabba Gabba! DVD that Kenzly had packed and turn the volume up only a little. After that, he went back to sleep, but was woken up again about half an hour later when Charlie started tearlessly weeping because she couldn't get back up onto the bed. After he pulled her up, he tried to doze off once more, but the toddler bounced around and started crawling all over him, so he was forced to get up for good. After that, he'd changed her diaper, made her some breakfast and played with her in the living room until Dee showed up with Nerf guns.

"Gross. That's early," Julio said. He hesitated, but because he cared about his friend, he offered, "Want me to watch her so you can sleep a little more?"

"No, thanks. I'm about to lay her down for her nap, so I'm gonna take one then, too." He yawned, then thought to ask, "Do you mind keeping an eye on her for a sec so I can smoke a cigarette really quick, though?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, you mind or...?"

"Yeah, I'll watch her."

"Thanks. I'll just be a couple minutes."

"Nah, take your time. I got this. Charlie loves me. Right, Charlie?"

She didn't even acknowledge him.

"See?" Julio said.

Drake had to sneak out the kitchen door so that his daughter wouldn't see or hear him slip outside. He made his way to the front porch, picked up his pack he had there, then pulled out a cigarette and lit up. He still smoked quickly unintentionally, but because Julio had assured him that he didn't mind, he lit a second one. When Charlie had sat in the living room with her breakfast this morning, he went out and left the door open and constantly peeked in on her. He was able to smoke once more before Ricardo and Dee left for work. He didn't want to be a bother to anyone, but he didn't want to smoke in front of her either. Pretty soon, something would have to change. Either he'd have to get over that or he'd have to give up his habit.

When he opened the front door, Charlie turned towards him. She looked on with confusion for a moment, then went back to staring at the tv and rubbing a soft blanket against her face. This was good. It meant she was tired. Drake grabbed himself some water to cure his dry mouth, then he returned to the living room.

"Alright. Nap time, Charlie."

To his surprise, she didn't fight him today. Even when she was sleepy and could hardly hold her eyes open, she'd usually try to avoid naps. Her father lifted her and the blanket up and carried her upstairs. She was out within minutes — a new record. Drake closed his eyes and tried to follow her lead, but forty-five minutes went by and he still couldn't sleep. Exhausted and frustrated, he gave up, then headed downstairs, lazily stepping over the baby gates at the top and bottom of the staircase. Upon entering the living room, he remembered the mess he'd left and was glad Ricardo wasn't here to nag him. He probably wouldn't — not while Drake was still adapting to taking care of a toddler — but still, he knew the man liked his house clean.

"Couldn't sleep?" Julio asked with furrowed brows.

Drake shook his head. He started gathering up all the toys and packed everything that had come from his mother's house. He went around the living room and picked up all the blocks, but when he put them into the box they came in, there were two empty spaces. After more searching, he found one underneath the coffee table and the other close to the back of the tv stand. He put them away, then took the box, the stuffed frog and the library books and put them up against the wall so that he could take them to his room after Charlie awoke. He cleaned up the rest of the Cheerios and wiped the table off with a baby wipe, then threw them away. After returning from the kitchen, he plopped down onto the couch with a huff.

"Maybe you could take some sleep medicine," his friend suggested.

"Nah. By the time that kicks in, she'll probably be awake. I'm fine," Drake assured. "At least I'll be able to sleep tonight."

"Yeah, that's probably better. You've gotta get up early tomorrow." Julio asked, "You nervous?"

"I don't know. Kinda, but mostly just because I hate talking to people. And scanning coordinator? What the fuck even is that?"

"Why would you apply for something when you don't even know what it is?"

He shrugged. "It's a grocery store job. It shouldn't be too complicated." He added, "I hope."

"It sounds legit, though. Like usually, they'd hire newbies as cashiers or services clerks. Did you lie on your application or something?"

"No, I put Ricky down as a reference for the bar and he said they called him and he said a lot of positive things about me." After a moment, he rested his head against the back of the couch and said, "Ugh, I hate working. It's been so long since I've had an actual job — like, a year or something. I relapsed back in December. That's...about eight months."

"Well, maybe it won't be so bad. Anything's better than fast food."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Maybe I'll apply there, too, and we can work together."

Drake smiled. "That would be fun."

"We'll both walk in there everyday ready to fuck shit up. We'll just come in and...coordinate the scanning or whatever."

A tired chuckle left Drake's lips.

"Do you think that means you just supervise all the cashiers and help them when there's an issue? Ingles really isn't that busy usually — not as busy as Walmart. We'll probably have a lot of time to flirt with all the girl cashiers. We'll convince them to like us and think they have a chance with us so they'll buy us candy or lunch or some shit, like we did in school."

"We were such assholes," Drake said. "I hate running into anyone I went to high school with." Most all of them knew about his addiction and the child abuse and his father's death. Those that didn't, though, still expected him to be the same overly-confident, outgoing douchebag that everyone loved. It's embarrassing that he no longer masks his insecurities and shyness behind drugs.

"Bruh, you couldn't even remember Rhett when you first saw him and we smoked with him several times senior year. If you run into someone from high school, I doubt you'll even know."

"Rhett was a jerk," Drake said. "I tried to be cool with him when I moved in because you were friends and hung out a lot and, like, he caught me pimping myself at the truck stop that first time. He knew what I was doing, so I tried not to care when he brought shit up. It was clear that he was judging me, but I kept trying to tell myself that he wanted to talk about it because he cared. When we all went to that party, though — that was fucked up."

Julio remembered. They were hanging out with some jocks talking about girls or sex or whatever and one of the guys mentioned how he could "go for a blowjob right now," and then, without missing a beat, Rhett had said, "You got ten bucks? Drake'll do it for ten bucks." Drake had fake laughed with them, but he purposely lost himself in the crowd the first chance he got. Julio later found him crying in an upstairs bathroom while washing vomit out of some girl's shirt. He'd pretty much seemed to drop off the face of the earth after dropping out of high school, so when that girl woke up the next morning, she probably thought she'd dreamed it all. Drake Parker, the guy no one's seen in almost a year, who was rumored to have been in jail or dead or locked in a nut house after having a psychotic break because of all the drugs and child abuse — always indifferent and cool in high school. No way did he ever show up to a party out of the blue and there was definitely no way that he'd been crying in the bathroom with her, listening to her drunken rant about her shitty boyfriend and holding her hair for her when she threw up.

"Rhett's a fucking dick," Julio said.

After that incident, one of the jocks had found a girl to bother and Julio and Rhett went out to the backyard. Since they had a moment to talk amongst themselves, Julio scolded his friend and told him how much of a jerk he was. The boy had acted innocent and pretended he didn't know what he was talking about. They both got pretty heated to the point where a fight broke out. Rhett gave the first shove and Julio, with a bit of that Santos temper buried deep down inside of him, took that as an invitation to start swinging. Rhett ended up on the ground pretty quickly and some of the party-goers scurried to get out of their way before spilling anymore of their alcohol. Julio wasn't giving him any time to get any shots in, so after a moment, a few guys jumped in and dragged him off. "I don't know why you're so protective of that junkie truck stop whore!" Rhett had said, blood oozing down his face. "He must be sucking your dick, too!" Enraged, Julio tried to go after him again, but he was held back. Some of the guys and girls surrounding them kept telling Rhett to leave because that would be easier than trying to drag Julio out of there. Humiliated, he did and then Julio yanked himself free and went back inside to find Drake.

*FLASHBACK*

Fuck! Ricardo's gonna fucking kill me! Julio closed the door to a bedroom, where a couple heavily made out on the bed. He tried another door, but it was just a closet. I don't even fucking blame him. I'd kill me. This was Drake's first night out without Ricardo. He had been doing well with his sobriety and he had earned back a lot of trust — probably more than he should've at this point. Still, they were just going to go to this party and have a few drinks. Tonight was supposed to be fun. Drake was supposed to see for himself how much better he was getting and get back some of his confidence. Now he's nowhere to be found. He could be on his way to Walmart for all Julio knew, and he was supposed to be on Drake duty. He swore he wouldn't leave his side. His brother's gonna be so fucking pissed.

Julio started pondering the likelihood that Drake would relapse. He really seemed to be getting better. Was it all just a lie so that he could gain enough freedom to split the first chance he got? Just months ago, Ricardo found him getting fucked by his old gym coach. Is Drake really willing to go back to that shit again? He'd almost fucking died!

The next door he opened was a bathroom and he found Drake in front of the sink, scrubbing some pink cloth underneath the running water. "There you are!" Julio entered and closed the door behind him. "Why would you just disappear like that?! You know my brother told you not to leave my side! For fuck's sake, Drake!"

He heard the boy sniffle and felt bad for yelling. He'd gone eighteen years without seeing his best friend cry. The first time was after Rhinestone blabbed to everyone at a party about Drake and Coach Tad during Never Have I Ever. He thought that'd be the last time, but after the addict moved into the Santos house, everyday was a big cry-fest.

Julio swallowed the anxiety he had been feeling so that he could turn on comfort mode. "Shit, I'm sorry. You didn't fucking deserve that. Fuck Rhett." He saw that his words made it harder for the young man to keep his crying to a minimum. He stepped closer with his arms outstretched. "Come here."

Drake let him embrace him, but it took him a moment before he fully accepted it and hugged him back. He broke down in his arms. It took a while before he could speak, but even when he was able to, sobs broke through his words and they spewed out of him, dripping with self-hatred. "I shouldn't have come here!" he said, his bawling making it come out much louder than he meant for it to. "I don't know what I was thinking! They all know what I've done...and what was done to me..." That last part came out strangled and he sobbed some more. "Everyone's fucking staring at me and Rhett keeps showing me off like I'm his dancing monkey or something and then everyone laughs! They all fucking laugh like I'm the butt of some fucking joke, but my life is not a fucking joke! The shit I went through — that's not a fucking joke! They're all so fucking mean and it hurts my feelings and it's just not..."

Fair. He'd trailed off because he was crying too hard to continue, but he meant to say that it wasn't fair. Julio couldn't even imagine the demons Drake had to deal with on a daily basis. Not only was he forced to come to terms with the abuse and rape from his father, the molestation from Tad and the prostitution that he'd subjected himself to — but he had to do all that whilst in the spotlight. Former classmates knew. Old teachers knew. People they've never even met or seen before knew. Julio had seen people whispering behind Drake's back at the grocery store and he knew Drake saw it, too. Imagine walking around everyday thinking everyone believed you were into the incestual sex because you're a guy and you should've been able to stop it if you'd really wanted to. Imagine walking around everyday knowing everyone knew that you were stupid and weak and disappointing and worthless enough that your own father would want to kill you. Imagine constantly being undressed in the minds of people trying to picture how the rape went and what your screams had sounded like. Imagine knowing that you were blamed for the assaults. After all, you had every opportunity to turn him in and you didn't, right? Imagine buying cough medicine to numb the pain and having the cashier look at you with pity rather than the usual judgment you'd grown accustomed to. Imagine feeling so ashamed that you completely cut yourself off from everyone, totally willing to live a lonely life of solitude if it meant that people would forget about your disgraceful existence. Imagine finally getting the support and encouragement you needed to convince you to open up again and be willing to reconnect with your peers, only to be paraded around and made into a laughing stock, proving that you no longer had a place in society and would be better off dead.

"I know. I know it's not fair," Julio agreed as he rubbed his back soothingly. He did his best to give some kind of comfort with his words and Drake did start to calm down after a while. "Fuck these people. Fuck this party. We can go home and have our own party. Just the two of us, and it'll be a fucking blast because we won't be around these ignorant ass pricks. Okay?"

He felt the boy nod against his shoulder, then he heard a quiet, "Okay." His voice was more steady and his weeping had lessened substantially.

Julio gave a few last encouraging pats on the back and opened his eyes. He froze. "Drake...?"

"Yeah?"

"Who is that?"

*END FLASHBACK*

With the horny jocks hovering over all the females like hungry mosquitoes, one of them was bound to see the half-dressed, intoxicated girl in the bathroom soon and try to take advantage of her inebriated state. Her shirt was soaked in sink water and Drake's tears, so Julio gave her his jacket — his favorite fucking jacket — and they drove her home. By the time they got there, she had passed out. Her parents were still awake and on their front porch smoking cigarettes, so he and Drake discussed whether they should drop her off. They didn't want her to get in any trouble because she was probably about three years shy of the legal drinking age. Plus, it didn't really look good for two sober guys to bring her home wearing one of their jackets with nothing on underneath except a bra. However, they'd parked on the curb right in front of her house and her parents kept watching skeptically, so they decided it was probably best not to make themselves look anymore suspicious. They both got out and Julio did the talking and neither one seemed angry. Either they allowed their daughter to drink or they were waiting until she woke up the next morning to explode as not to discourage the do-gooders from ever doing this again if ever there was another girl in potential danger. They seemed genuinely thankful for the two boys

"Yo, hand me that I Spy book."

Drake grabbed it and passed it to him. Julio opened it and had it resting on his knees while he played. There were usually one or two extremely hard items per page, so when he got to those, he skipped them and came back to them after spotting everything else. After a long time of searching, he found one, but still not the other.

He sat up and moved closer to Drake, who was just resting there — not watching tv or playing on his phone or anything. "Help me find this stupid fucking axe, bruh."

The young man reached over and turned on the floor lamp that was next to him, then he curled his feet underneath him and looked at the book with his friend.

---

"Shh," Drake heard as if the soft voice was somewhere far away. "Daddy's sweeping."

He then heard, "Here. Don't spill it," then he drifted off again.

A couple times, he heard the distant sound of Yo Gabba Gabba!, but he didn't wake up for another ten or twenty minutes. When he slowly opened his eyes, he found himself on the couch. Charlie was sitting on her knees right in front of him, but with her back turned towards him so that she could eat over the table like Julio had told her. She scooped up some of her pot pie, then put the spoon in her mouth. Some of it fell off before making it there and landed on the table.

When Drake started to push himself up, he found a blanket on top of him. He folded it back and sat up. "Time is it?" he asked with a strained voice while rubbing his eyes.

Charlie's head whipped towards him. "You wake, Daddy?"

"A little after three," Julio answered, looking at him over the screen of his phone.

"How long have I been out?"

"An hour...hour and a half? You passed out when we were playing I Spy."

He couldn't remember falling asleep. He stretched his achy muscles and his bones popped. "Did she just get up?"

"She's been up a while. I figured I'd let you sleep, though. She said she was hungry, so I heated up one of those pot pies you bought for her," then he remembered, "and she's already had a diaper change."

"Wow. Thank you." He wanted his wake-me-up cigarette, but he didn't want to ask because his friend had already done more than enough.

Charlie suddenly pushed a spoon towards his face. He hardly had time to open his mouth. He took the bite of lukewarm pot pie she was giving him and chewed it up.

"Mmm. Yummy. Thank you."

She smiled, then got some more for him.

"No, you eat."

She did.

"I left it in the freezer a little too long, I think," Julio said. He'd put it in there after heating it so that it would cool off and not burn the girl's tongue. "She doesn't seem to care, though."

The pot pie was a sudden burst of flavor for Drake's taste buds and it reminded him how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten this morning because he woke up so early and eating that early when he was still physically exhausted would upset his stomach and probably make him throw up.

"I'm gonna make some noodles. You want some?"

"Nah, I'm good. I just ate."

Drake went into the kitchen and Charlie curiously went after him. He could hear her little feet clacking against the floor as she dashed from one room to the next, following his footsteps. Following his footsteps... Sometimes he still couldn't wrap his head around the idea that this was his daughter and was something he'd helped to create. That's one thing he had done right. She was fucking perfect. He just hoped he didn't screw this up.

---

Drake opened his bedroom door after having relieved his bladder, changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth. He found Charlie on his bed, playing on his phone. The young man went over to the tv and turned on Toy Story, then he joined his daughter in bed. "What ya looking at?" he asked.

He leaned closer and glanced at the screen, then his heart dropped. On it was a picture of himself and Dahlia in a car. She had taken it on their way to their date and, God, was she beautiful... Her brunette hair was up and pinned back with little strands hanging down around the front and she wore a light blue dress and a cute smile. This photo was from a private album he had on his Facebook because he'd had to get rid of the pictures of himself and Clem, but he hadn't had the heart to completely trash all of their memories together. This was all he had left of her. It's just like the album he had for Meelah. Well, used to have. Out of jealousy and anger, Dahlia had deleted that entire album. All he had left of his first love was what he kept inside his mind. Sadly, he was forgetting more and more about her everyday. Just a few days ago, he started thinking about her in the shower and he realized that he couldn't even remember exactly what her voice had sounded like.

"Dee!" Charlie exclaimed, smiling up at her father.

This broke him out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

"Dee!"

He looked at the picture of himself and Dahlia with confusion, then pointed to himself. "No, that's Daddy."

"Daddy."

"Yeah..." Drake said with confusion. He literally looked nothing like his best friend's boyfriend.

"Dee!" Charlie then pointed to Dahlia.

"No, that's..."

He stopped himself because she really didn't need to know who that was, but it sure as hell wasn't Dee. She was a petite, thin, white girl. She was literally the exact opposite of Dee. Charlie still didn't know the names of the men her father lived with, so why she knew Dee's name and thought it belonged to his ex fiancée was a mystery. He took the phone from her.

"Come on. Let's lay down." He set his alarm, put his phone on the charger, then laid down. When she snuggled up next to him, he pulled the covers up and then allowed her to lay her head on his arm.

"Goodnight, Daddy."

"'Night, baby." He leaned closer and kissed her forehead. "I love you."

"I wuv you," she repeated, then she fixed her eyes on the tv.

He couldn't sleep that night. There wasn't any particular reason for it. He was nervous about his first day of work, but that wasn't really keeping him up. It was more just the fact that he knew he needed to sleep so that he would feel refreshed and mellow in the morning. The more frustrated he got, the more upset he got and then he started to feel anxious. As an attempt to calm himself, he started thinking about other things: when his next free day was so that he could spend quality time with his sister, what he and Julio were going to do for the date night they owed Dee and Ricardo, how he was going to spend his next paycheck, what kid movies from his own childhood he wanted to introduce Charlie to, whether he should be open about his addiction problem to her as she gets older or keep it hidden, and a bunch of other random things until his mind settled on why Charlie had called Dahlia Dee.

Usually if Charlie spoke to any of his roommates, she wouldn't say a name. She'd just say "hey" and tap on them until she got their attention. Every now and then if she was interrupting a conversation or a phone call or something, she would say, "hey, boy." As far as she knew, all their names were Boy. Boy, Boy, Boy and Daddy. They'd tell her their names or Drake would try to get her to say them, but she never repeated them, like they were speaking another language or something. Maybe she did remember their names, though, and just didn't care to use them. Maybe that's where Dee came from, but that still didn't explain why she would call his ex Dee when she's never seen her...unless she... No, there's no way. He never let Charlie out of his sight in public and Kenzly didn't have a car to take the girl anywhere while she babysat. Audrey was usually too tired to leave the house once she got off work and, even if she did go out with Charlie at some point, Dahlia had never met his mom, so if she had bumped into her at the grocery store, she'd never know who she was.

Still, something felt off about this whole thing. In fact, it was bothering him so much that he wanted to wake her up and ask her if she'd ever seen Clementine before, but he wasn't going to because then it'd probably be impossible to get her back to sleep and that's the last thing he needed when he had to get up early for work in the morning. Until then, all he had to go off of was his own racing thoughts.

Dahlia had texted him on occasion after they'd split. She tried to be casual at first, but she quickly got pissed off when he ignored her. She wasn't used to him not worshiping the ground she walked on. When Drake got her step-mom fired from the Rent production, his ex had retaliated by paying some jerkoffs to jump him. She texted a couple times after that and the last one even sounded like a threat, but then, she went silent. It's been just over two weeks since her last message and he figured maybe she was finally moving on. With that thought, an image of her with another guy popped into his mind and he was overcome with jealousy. He wondered if that's how she had felt when she caught Drake with Hero. Maybe she wasn't this horrible monster the Santos brothers made her out to be. Maybe she was just desperate to get him back. When you spend so long with someone and open up to them and fall in love, seeing them with someone else is sickening. Knowing that he was laughing at some other woman's jokes and talking about deep subject and with her and eating her home-cooked meals and then eating her pussy probably upset Dahlia. It sure as hell upset Drake when she'd replaced him with Carter during his two-month relapse. He had been willing to do some crazy things, like pick a fight with her new boo and get fucked up on a bunch of pills. Being with her made him crazy. It made him forget who he was. He did a lot of things that were out of his norm: moving in, proposing, attempting suicide — all on a spur of the moment decision. Now that entire relationship just felt like...like a dream.

"Meow." Macaulay hopped up onto the bed suddenly and landed on his stomach.

He started to rub her fur and he gave her kisses when she head-booped his chin. After a few minutes, she settled down with her tail end between his neck and shoulder on his pillow and her paws kneading on his chest. Her sharp nails poke him, but he tried to push through the pain because he appreciated the affection. When it became intolerable, he moved her paws. She went in for a bite, but playfully, then she snuggled under his neck like a scarf and closed her eyes while he continued to pet her.

As he did this, his brain wandered to the early morning a little while ago when he had found Macaulay outside, which took his mind off of the fact that Clem was gonna be sucking some other guy's dick from now on. He was glad the cat hadn't run off and he debated whether it would be a good idea to spend a few days letting them explore the yard. That way, they'd know where they lived and would be able to find their way back in case they ever got out. However, this would probably encourage them to run outside every chance they got. Plus, Drake would have to fork over a lot of money to keep them flealess because Ricardo would not be happy if the cats brought that inside.

It was still a mystery how Macaulay had gotten out that morning. Drake had originally thought that Dee accidentally did it when he left, but Ricky later told him that he hadn't left and instead went back to bed with him. Ricardo had picked him up that day, so his boyfriend's car was back at his own house. It had confused Drake, but he let it go. Maybe she slipped out quickly and stealthily when he himself had opened the door to leave. Maybe in between the time he woke up and saw Macaulay and the time he found her outside, Julio had gone outside to smoke one of his friend's cigarettes for whatever reason. It really just didn't make any sense to him since Dee...

Dee... He remembered now. When Charlie asked about the cat being outside, Drake had said Dee must've let her out by accident. That was the first time he'd heard his daughter say that name. Tonight was the second time and she said it while pointing at a picture of Dahlia. There's no way..., he thought. She couldn't... She wouldn't...

He tried to wrack his brain for everything that had happened that morning. He'd been fatigued and anxious and the whole thing was kind of a blur. He knew he woke up and Charlie wasn't there. She wasn't in the room at all despite the fact that Drake had watched her at his mom's struggle to even get a basic grasp on the front door's knob. How on earth she could've possibly opened his bedroom door had puzzled him. Maybe she never did.

After he saw that she was missing, he got up and went out into the hall, where she was following Macaulay down the steps. His adrenaline had spiked and he'd blown up. He remembered that much, but details sometimes got lost during traumatic events. It was like one second, he was in his room, then the next, he was sitting on the top step, rocking his daughter back and forth and apologizing over and over. He tried to recall what he had said. He yelled her name and grabbed her right before she tumbled, then he...then he scolded her. He remembered feeling guilty and he'd reminded himself of his father. This made him panic and Dee watched Charlie so Ricardo could help him calm down. After that, he got the girl dressed. He remembered asking her while he changed her diaper where she was trying to go when she headed for the stairs and she said she was going to the cat. No, that's not what she said. She doesn't even use that word. She calls them mew mews, but she definitely didn't say mew mew. What did she say? She said she's going to the... He put himself back there and tried to relive it. ...girl. She said she was going to the girl. Drake thought that meant the cat because Macaulay was a girl and, since Charlie couldn't pronounce the cat's name, he told the toddler that she could say "Come here, girl" and she would come to her. But what if...? What if she actually...saw a girl?

That could make sense, right? He fast-forwarded to when they saw the animal outside. Charlie had asked about it. Actually, she'd said "She came outside, too?" He assumed she meant, like, "She came outside like us?" but what if she meant, "She came outside like that girl?" Drake then told her that Dee probably let her out and she repeated the name as if to store it into her memory. What if it had been Dahlia all along and Charlie recognized her from the picture she found on her dad's phone?

Drake suddenly felt sick. He didn't want to believe that it was true and maybe it wasn't. His mind was going crazy and he really needed sleep after all. He tried to come up with other scenarios, but after thinking and thinking and thinking, he came up short. Suddenly filled with terror and paranoia, he moved Macaulay away and sat up, his eyes darting around the room. Was she spying on him? Was she breaking in and watching him sleep? Or stealing or going through his shit or setting up his phone so that she could somehow trick him into turning against his friends again? What if she got in bed with them and pretended like they were married and Charlie was their child? What if she brushed her fingers through his hair or kissed him or touched him while he slept? He started thinking about little odd things that had happened recently like when his favorite shirt went missing or when the batteries had mysteriously disappeared out of his tv remote or when he felt like his underwear drawer had been rifled through or when Kenzly swore she had messaged him although he hadn't received it or when he found a kitchen knife on his floor or when he realized his books and DVDs that he kept in alphabetical order were mixed up slightly or when Ricardo found his missing car keys in Drake's room. If it was true — if she had been there — what else had she done that he hasn't noticed yet? She could've... She could've...scrubbed the toilet with his toothbrush to get back at him or drugged his food like she had done to Hero.

And if Charlie saw her... And if Clem opened the door...surely she wouldn't have left it open on purpose...and led the toddler towards the steps...right? Was it that she wanted his daughter to get hurt...or that she wanted to lead her outside so she could get lost? Maybe she'd wanted to keep Charlie for herself.

Drake threw the covers off of himself and stood. First he checked the closet, then he peered out his window. He saw nothing but darkness and the silhouette of trees. There were none close enough for someone to go in or out his window, although during the beginning stages of his recovery, Ricardo had put bars on them anyway. Still, he made sure to lock it just in case.

After that, he went out to the hall, but was suddenly scared of who could be lurking in the darkness. He flipped on the hallway light, then checked the two closets — one filled with board games and one with towels and washcloths. After that, he went into the bathroom. He turned on the light, hesitantly checked behind the shower curtain, then made sure that window was locked. When he turned around, he jumped back and cursed.

"Fuck! What the fuck, Julio?!" he exclaimed, but quiet enough not to wake anyone.

His friend's eyes were droopy and he looked confused. "The fuck are you doing?" he slurred with tiredness.

"Nothing," Drake said. He wasn't sure he was ready to tell him his suspicions unless he was positive. He wasn't even sure he fully believed it yet.

"What were you doing at the window?"

He didn't know what to say.

"You weren't trying to sneak out, were you?" He thought his friend was heading for a relapse and Drake felt guilty for making him worry.

"No," he assured. "No, I was just locking it."

The sleepy young man's eyes furrowed with skepticism.

"You can never be too safe, you know? Now that Charlie's here and all."

"Did you have a nightmare or...?"

"No, I was just...over-thinking and shit. You know me."

"Don't leave." It sounded more like a question than a demand.

Drake shook his head. "I won't. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Okay?"

"Okay," he said. "I have to pee."

His friend left him to do his business and headed downstairs. He double-checked that the doors and windows were locked and peeked inside of closets and searched every room and looked behind doors. There was no sign of Dahlia. He was probably just being paranoid. Either way, there was no way she could get in now. He turned all the lights back off and went back upstairs, then got under the blanket next to Charlie after, once again, checking his closet. He snuggled with his daughter for comfort and tried to go back to sleep. It took at least another hour, but when he finally dozed off, he tossed and turned and was plagued by nightmares.

---

Drake looked like a zombie and his eyes seemed empty as he stared absently at nothing in particular. He was mentally drained due to the back-to-back nightmares and exhausted to the point that his eyes were bloodshot. On top of that, his brain was still running a mile a minute about the possibility of Dahlia breaking in and watching him sleep or fucking with his shit. It made him sick — like, actually physically sick — just thinking that someone was invading his personal space like that. Anything could've been done to him or his things and he wouldn't even know.

Ricardo stabbed a fork into the sausage patty he was frying and flipped it over like the rest, then he turned around towards his friend. Drake was sitting on a bar-stool and his daughter was in his lap, occupied by playing with some kids' meal toy. The father looked completely out of it. He didn't even know the man was looking at him. Charlie suddenly took her attention off of the toy and lifted her eyes to him, but he took no notice. She raised her tiny hand and put it on his jaw, pushing him to turn his head and see her. This seemed to pull him out of his trance. He blinked a few times and looked at her. She held up her toy to show him and he pointed at it while saying a few things that Ricardo couldn't hear, then he leaned forwards and kissed her forehead while she put her attention back on the toy.

"You okay?" Ricky asked.

Drake looked at him. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He nodded slightly. "Just wasn't able to fall asleep last night and, when I did, I was tossing and turning."

Ricardo frowned sympathetically. He turned back to the sausage and flipped each piece again. When they were fully cooked, he used the fork to take them out of the pan one-by-one and set them on a paper towel so that it would get rid of some of the excess grease. He put Charlie's piece in the freezer while he filled her cup with juice, then he took it back out and put it on a plate with Drake's two patties. He turned and slid the plate across the island, then he bit into his own.

Drake was pretty sensitive to smells, especially in the morning. Usually, he loved the smell of sausage patties, but today was different. Today, it worsened the nausea he already felt. When the plate was put directly under his nose and he got a big whiff, he couldn't handle it anymore. He stood suddenly and put Charlie on her feet on the floor, then he bolted to the downstairs bathroom — a small room with only a toilet and sink that was located near the laundry room. The second he got the toilet seat lifted, vomit spewed from his mouth. After the second round, he gagged, but nothing more came out.

Ricardo's voice came from outside the door. "Jared Drake Parker! Are you pregnant?" he joked to lighten the mood and he did see his friend crack a small smile despite his suffering.

"Daddy's pwegant?!"

Drake spat into the toilet, then closed the lid and weakly sat down on it. "No, baby."

She came towards him when he held out his arms. "You sick?"

"Yeah, I'm a little sick."

Ricardo asked, "Is it just nerves or...?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He still wasn't ready to voice his suspicions about Dahlia. He knew that Ricky would probably flip the fuck out and, if it was true, Drake wasn't sure how he wanted to deal with it yet. He didn't want to get his ex in legal trouble, but he also didn't want her snooping through his underwear drawer. After all, what if she was the one who had put the knife on the floor of his room? What if that was some kind of threat? Good thing it happened on a night when Charlie was at her Nana's.

"You're gonna do fine," the man assured. "You've done it before, so I'm sure it'll come back to you once you get started."

"I've never done that before. I don't even know what a scanning coordinator is."

"It's like at the bar. Remember when the vendors would drop off beer or liquor or food from all the different distribution companies? Sometimes I had you checking them in. You just scan each product with the handheld and put the quantity in and then you pay them. They might do it a little differently at Ingles, but you know the gist of it."

Drake did remember doing this. It was about eight or nine months ago, so he was foggy on some of the details, but it was probably like riding a bike. Once he got started, he'd probably remember a lot, so this comforted him. "So that's what a scanning coordinator is. Me and Julio were way off."

Ricardo took Charlie back to her breakfast while Drake cleaned up, brushed his teeth and gargled mouthwash. When he joined them, he ate his patties and gathered his and his daughter's belongings and he carried everything out the door. When he got to the car, he noticed that the front wheel on the passenger's side was flat.

"Shit!" he whispered, distressed.

Charlie's head whipped towards him. "Ooo—"

"I know. I know. I'll give you a dollar at Nana's, okay?"

He went back inside. Dee was up now and he and his boyfriend were kissing in the kitchen.

"Sorry," he said, his voice shaky because his nerves were coming back. When the two separated, he asked, "Can I get a ride to my mom's and then work? Julio's car has a flat. Sorry."

"Yeah, of course." Ricardo pulled away from his partner and went upstairs to grab his wallet and shoes. When he came back down, he gave Dee a quick kiss, promised to return promptly and picked up his keys on the way out the door.

Drake moved the car-seat to Ricky's car and got his daughter buckled in, then pretty soon, they were on their way.

"Try to breathe and calm down," Ricardo said. "You have plenty of time to get there. You'll probably still be early even." His friend was right. It was a quarter past four and neither Ingles nor Mrs. Nichols' house was far away.

"Can you tell Julio that I'll get the tire fixed?" He felt like he had done something wrong and like it was his fault that he'd accidentally run over something that was probably in the middle of the road where it shouldn't even have been and too small for him to have been able to see. "Do you think he'll be mad?"

"No," Ricardo said with furrowed brows and the ridiculousness of his question almost made him laugh. "Of course not. It's just a tire. Flats happen all the time."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?" He turned so that he could see into the backseat.

"You mad?"

"No, baby." He reached an arm back and patted her knee for comfort. "I'm not mad."

Charlie picked up his hand with both of hers and examined it. She wiggled each finger and compared the length of his fingers with hers and the height of the hand as a whole with hers.

Drake furrowed his brow with amusement. "What are you doing?"

"You got big hands!"

"You know why?"

"Why?"

"So I can tickle you!" He reached back and tickled her neck, then her tummy, then her underarm.

Charlie's laughter filled the car. Ricardo smiled. He was glad Drake had met his daughter. Despite his normal, consistent depression, she seemed to be able to give him a bit of a break now and then. She made him happy.

---

"So...?" Julio asked with a stupid grin, annoyingly poking at his friend. "How'd it go?"

"It was okay," Drake said with positivity. He stepped over Julio's feet and took a seat in the other rocking chair, then he unzipped his backpack and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. "I kinda knew how to do it somewhat. It's something I did at the bar. It's a little different, but it's not that much."

"What did you have to do?"

Exhausted and achy, the young man leaned back against his seat. "Well, mostly just hang tags all day. They gave me the fucking frozen foods section."

"Yikes."

"Literally couldn't feel my fucking hands and knees all day."

"Knees?"

"Because I have to squat so much to hang the tags on the lower shelves. Kills my back, so I lean my knees against the coolers and they go numb. Plus, I don't know where anything is, so it took me all day just to do frozen. I also didn't even understand the tag system until, like, the last couple hours of my shift. And there's, like, three hundred tags for frozen."

"Shit, that sucks, dude."

"I mean, not really. At least I'm staying busy. I saw the cashiers standing at the ends of their registers when they didn't have a customer and that would suck — just waiting around like that. Being in frozen, no one really talks to me and I can just do my own thing and it's pretty chill."

"Literally," he joked at the unintended pun.

"There are two other scanning coordinators, which is fucking crazy because it took me all day just to do frozen and Ingles has so much shit. I don't know how they do it. One of them smokes, though, so she invited me to go out to her car with her when she went. Apparently, we can just do that because we're scanning coordinators."

"Is she hot?" Julio asked.

"She's in her forties," then he added, "and married."

"What about the other one?"

He shrugged. "About the same age. I don't think she's married, though. I didn't see a ring."

"Well, is she hot?"

Drake shrugged. "I really can't even tell if she likes me or not. Like, she was nice, but...I don't know." He inhaled from his cigarette, then let go of his breath in a calming sigh. "She taught me how to use the handheld, though. It's kinda different from the one at the bar. When vendors come, they go to the customer service desk up from and ask them to call a scanning coordinator and she told me to always come up there when they did so I can practice with her. Some of them hardly bring anything, but like, this one beer and wine guy took forever because there are, like, about two to five bottles per type of wine and you have to scan each type and there were, like, over a hundred fucking bottles."

"Shit. How long did that take?"

"Probably half an hour. He was super nice, though."

"That's good at least."

"Yeah." He took another drag, then looked over at his friend. "Did Ricky tell you about the tire?"

"Yeah, he did. He got it changed before he went to work because he knew you needed the car to be able to drive tomorrow."

Drake was relieved that he didn't have to do it because he was way too tired. "I need to save up and get my own car," he said and his voice carried a hint of stress. "I have so much shit to pay for, though. Like, I wanna start pitching in with the bills again because I've been out of work for so long and I know Ricky's been handling it, but he's been picking up extra shifts and shit when people call out even though he could just call someone else to take their place and I don't want him to have to do that anymore. I also wanted to give my mom some money because I can tell she's struggling and I just fucking owe her everything. Plus, she's been paying Kenzly to babysit my kid and she shouldn't have to do that, then there's Charlie and she has to have diapers and wipes and food and I don't really know yet, but I want her to have clothes and toys and stuff here so she has something to wear and do. On top of that, I've gotta pay my phone bill and pay for cigarettes and it's just so fucking much."

"Yeah, adulting sucks," Julio agreed, "but hey, don't worry about getting a car right now. You can drive mine. It's not like I can drive it."

"Yeah, but you need it back when you get your license back."

"I've got, like, seven more months before that happens." He was given the choice between a six month suspension with two days in jail or a nine month suspension with no days in jail. He chose the latter.

"Yeah, but they said you could try to get approval to drive if it's for, like, all the court-ordered classes or work or something."

"Why would I do that when I have you to chauffeur me around?"

Drake chuckled, then put out his finished cigarette in the ash tray. "Seriously, though. If you do decide to do that so you can go back to work or school, I want you to do it. We can work something out with our schedules or I could ask my mom to take me to work or I could Uber. I don't want you to put your shit off for me. You know?"

"I'll let you know," Julio promised, "but honestly, I haven't even been giving that any thought. I'm still just trying to...adapt."

"Yeah, I get it. You gotta take care of your mental health first." Speaking of, "You've got a meeting tonight, right?"

"No, actually. It was cancelled."

"Shit. Really?"

"The lady that leads the group had a family thing come up."

"You want me to look up some other ones? I don't mind driving far—"

"Nah, it'll be okay until tomorrow. I'll see if Dee can drop me off in the morning."

Drake nodded. There was a silence between the two as they watched a flock of birds flying past. Drake was the first to break it. "I don't know if I should take a nap or not. I'm dead fucking tired, but if I nap, I might not sleep tonight."

"Well, just nap, and then when it's an hour or so before bedtime, take some sleep medicine," Julio suggested.

"I might do that." Now that he had a plan, he was excited to get some sleep, but first, he had to shower, and before that, he wanted to check in. "You doing okay today?"

"Yeah."

He lazily turned his head towards him, still resting against the back of the rocking chair.

"Seriously. I am. Actually, this entire week has been pretty good."

Drake squinted at him. He's been kind of busy this past week now that Charlie was coming over a lot, so he wasn't sure what Julio could've done to pass the time and be this okay. Maybe his crush Hannah had started talking to him again.

"It has," the boy assured.

"Really?"

"Yes!" he said with a smile as he looked up at the gathering gray clouds in the sky. "Stop fucking asking!"

"Okay," Drake said defensively. He, too, was smiling. "Okay." He gave himself another short moment of rest, but then he peeled himself out of his seat. "Okay, I'm gonna shower."

"Oh, wow. Nice apron," Julio teased with laughter as he got a good look at his uniform, which, for some reason, included an apron.

"Fuck you." Drake disappeared inside after giving his friend's head a rough shove.

The second the door closed, Julio's smile fell. He let go of his breath, his face ridden with guilt. He reached underneath his leg and retrieved a small, square bottle of whiskey, which was missing about three shots worth of liquid. He rubbed the side of his head with pressure as he stared at the alcohol, contemplating. After a moment, he sighed, then unscrewed the cap and took a long swig.

---

Drake awoke with a start when he heard a loud noise. He sat up in bed and checked his phone for the time. He got off work at 2:30 and it was 8:18. Geez, some fucking nap. How was he going to be able to sleep tonight?

He pushed that thought to the side for now, though, and looked around his room. His heart was beating fast and he had only one thing on his mind: Dahlia was in here. He snatched the covers away and immediately went for the light switch. It wasn't incredibly dark, but it was too dark for comfort after having been woken up this way. For someone who liked sitting in darkness to calm down, he was actually quite afraid of it. Maybe it just depended on what mood you caught him in. This one wasn't a good mood. He checked his closet and looked out his window, but he saw no sign of her. There was nowhere else she could possibly be hiding — not in his room anyway.

He gathered up his courage and went out into the hallway. Instead of finding any traces of his ex, he heard moaning — and not the good kind. He turned to his left and headed down the hall, then knocked on his friend's door.

"Don' comein!" he called to him in a panic. "I'm...masturbating."

Drake knew, though. The second he heard his voice, he knew, so he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

"The fuck, dude?!" Julio was in the floor, sitting on his bottom and leaning up against the wall. He had one knee bent against his chest so that he could rest his elbow on top and hold up his head with his hand. Next to him was his lamp, broken and shattered on the floor. There were also two small bottles of whiskey — one empty and one on its way — strewn about on the floor as if maybe Julio had tried to stand and lost his balance and knocked everything off his nightstand.

"Shit..." left Drake's lips as he looked at the scene before him, trying to figure out what response he should outwardly show. He felt a lot: sadness, sympathy, betrayal, guilt. None of those would help Julio right now, though. He knew that from experience. "Are you hurt?" he asked when he noticed his friend clasping his hand over his right side.

"Mmfine."

The young man moved towards him and squatted down. When he tried to check, he was surprised that he actually didn't get any resistance.

"Hit my ribsagains' the cornerofthe...fuckin'..." Having forgotten the name, he motioned towards the nightstand.

Drake saw scratches where he had been scraped by the edge of the wood on his way down and the entire area was red. "It's definitely gonna bruise," he said and he saw his friend wince when his fingers brushed across it. "Lemme get you some ice."

Julio watched him pick up the two bottles on his way out, but he didn't protest. He was worried that Drake would call his brother and then there would be a whole thing. He might yell or he might look disappointed. Maybe that's why Julio hadn't become enraged yet. He used to treat Drake like shit when he saw him this way and he probably would've done that again had the boy come in here acting any other way — wearing any other expression. Of course, he didn't want to, but he didn't really have a whole lot of control over himself when he was drunk. Half of the shit he did to Drake before he got sober he didn't even remember until Ricardo filled him in.

When he heard the ice machine going, he felt a bit more at ease because it meant that Drake hadn't called his brother. A short while later, the boy returned with an ice-filled Ziploc bagged wrapped in a thin washcloth, a bottle of water and a couple Tylenol.

"Better take these now," he said, passing Julio the pills, "to help with the hangover."

The young man accepted. Drake sat down next to him with his back against the wall, too. He opened the bottle of water for him and handed it over. When his friend was finished, he took it back and gave him the makeshift icepack. Now that the medical shit was out of the way and he could stop playing doctor, Julio prepared himself for the interrogation. Why did you do it? Why did you lie to me? I thought we were friends. How long has this been going on? How long have you been lying? Did you steal the money? Did you walk all the way to the store just to get these? How do you think your brother's gonna react? Don't you remember that we're sobriety partners and this could affect me, too? How would you feel if I ran off to get high and ended up in someone's bed or dead because of this? It would've been your fault for fucking up first.

However, Drake wasn't thinking any of that. Instead, he quietly said, "It's okay," and then Julio felt him wrap his arms around him and pull him against him. Drake let the drunk rest his head on his shoulder. "I understand."

With those words — those simple, yet complex words — Julio broke down. A sob left his lips and Drake rubbed his hand up and down the boy's bicep soothingly as he cried.

---

"I don't know. We didn't really talk about it," was the first thing Julio heard when he woke up. He was too tired to open his eyes, but he knew the voice belonged to Drake. "He's sleeping."

Julio couldn't remember falling asleep. Honestly, he couldn't remember much. His head was still swimming. He knew he was in bed because it was soft and comfy, but he couldn't recall how he'd gotten here.

"Most of it was gone, but I poured the rest out." Pause. "I don't know." Exhale. He was smoking, Julio noticed. He was smoking out his window like he had during the boy's first time dealing with withdrawals. "I mean, I got off work and I thought he was acting a little strange, but he assured me three times and..." He sighed guiltily. "I don't know. I was so tired and I let it go." Pause. "I was gonna take him," he said defensively, "but he said it was canceled. I offered to look up another one, but he said he would be okay until the morning." Pause. "Yeah. I guess I should've double-checked. I know... I know..." There was a quiet sniffle. "No, you're right. I should've... Yeah." He exhaled shakily and then sniffled again. "I know you can't, Ricky. I've been trying to step up, but I've got my own shit, too, and—" He went quiet again as he listened to what was being said on the other end. "Yeah, you did. I didn't mean—" Pause. "No, I know you did and I appreciate—" Silence... "But I do. I do. I know I owe you—" He sniffled, but quietly as if trying to conceal the fact that he was crying. However, this was no longer possible because whatever was said on the other end caused him to explode. "Yes, I know what the fuck you've done for me! Okay?! I was there! I fucking lived it! You don't have to keep skirting around the words! I was homeless! I sucked dick! I fucked the man who molested me in high school! I slept in his bed every night! I know what you did! You saved my life and I've never stopped being grateful for that, but if I would've known that you were gonna throw it back in my face like this, I wish you just wouldn't have even fucking bothered! That probably would've been better anyway! Julio wouldn't even have developed a fucking drinking problem to begin with if I never moved in! I said I was sorry! I've said I was sorry a thousand times! All I do anymore is fucking apologize! I don't know what you want from me! I care about him, too, you know?! I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but you're right! I thought he was acting weird and I let it go and I didn't check his story about AA and that was stupid! This whole fucking thing was my fault and I'm gonna have to live with that!" He started to go on, but stopped as if Ricky spoke (or yelled) over him. After a minute or so, he responded with, "I know what could've happened! I've lived what could've happened! Of course I don't want that for him! You don't have to keep bringing that up and comparing my shit to his shit like what I did was the ultimate rock bottom that you're trying to save him from! It's funny — when you talk to me about the things I've done, you sound almost understanding and you assure me that it doesn't matter anymore and that I can grow from that, but when you think of the possibility that your brother could end up like that, you suddenly don't think that way anymore! I become the guy you warn people about — the piece of shit in the fucking drug commercials and the low-life on the addiction brochures! I become the 'What Not To Do' guide! I know I'm a shit friend and a shit roommate and a shit person in general, but when he started drinking all the time, at least I fucking noticed! Where the fuck were you?!"

Ricardo was so heated and he yelled his first sentence so loud that even Julio could hear it from Drake's phone. "I WAS BUSY TAKING CARE OF YOUR SHIT! WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK?!"

Julio didn't catch anymore after that. He couldn't hear over the sound of his best friend sobbing and sniffling. Even when the boy put his hand over his mouth to muffle it, he couldn't hear. After Ricardo said his piece, he probably hung up on him. He did have a big temper. Drake just sat there, trying his best to keep quiet so that he wouldn't wake his friend, who, he thought, was somehow, miraculously still asleep. During a moment of impulsive frustration and rage, the upset young man pulled back his arm, then shot it forwards as fast as he could, flinging his phone out the window like a frisbee. He then got up and left the room, shutting the door behind him, but he remained in the hall. His back slid against the wall until he was sitting on his bottom. There, he bawled and bawled and bawled and suffered through a panic attack alone. Part of Julio wanted to help, but he was still so drunk and so tired and it all felt like a dream. Within seconds, he drifted back off to sleep.

---

"Ggglluuuhhh!"

"It's okay," came Drake's soothing voice. He was holding a small trash can underneath his friend's mouth.

More vomit came up, then Julio gagged and spat into the can. Tears and snot fell in right along with it. The young man panted for air.

"You think that's it?" Drake asked.

The suffering boy wiped his nose, but it only caused the long strings of snot to get stuck to his cheek and hand.

"Hold on." He grabbed the pack of Charlie's wet wipes and pulled one out. He gave one to his friend so that he could clean his hands, then he took out another one and wiped his face off for him.

"I'm so sick!" he said through his crying as he struggled to clear his hands of his boogers.

"I know." Drake got another wet wipe and helped him. "I'm sorry." He'd stopped weeping about his fight with Ricardo long ago, but now he felt hot tears prickle at his eyes as he watched his friend suffer. "I'm sorry." He sniffled, struggling but managing to hold his tears back. "I'm sorry. I should've paid more attention." The words Ricky had said to him replayed in his mind. He had to turn his head away because his face contorted and a single drop of water raced down his cheek. He gave himself a moment to gather his composure. He sniffled, swallowed down the lump in his throat and wiped away the tear, then he turned back to his friend and pet his hair. "It's gonna be okay," he said. "You're gonna be okay." He nodded and offered a smile, but Julio heard him sniffle and he saw his eyes glistening and he saw another tear fall.

---

"Drake..." came Julio's weak, almost inaudible voice.

The boy, who had been laying next to him, immediately sat up. He leaned over him and grabbed the trash can, then lifted it up closer. "Here." Drake hadn't been able to sleep. It was 3:47 in the morning and he had work in just over an hour. He would have to call out. That sucked because it was only his second day, meaning he would definitely be fired, and the only other places who had called him in for an interview were a couple fast food joints. He hated fast food. He'd worked at one for a couple years, but the second he turned twenty-one, he quit and started working for Ricardo at the bar.

Julio took the trash can and put it back down.

"You want some water?"

The boy shook his head, then changed his mind because his mouth was dry. After he drank some, he gave the bottle back to his friend. "Drake?"

"Yeah?"

Julio turned over and this brought back his nausea, but he kept it down. He met his friend's eyes with his own red ones. He was no longer feeling the alcohol, so now it was just waves of sickness, depression and regret. "It's not your fault," he said, his voice quiet and weak.

Drake didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected those words and he didn't know if they'd just come out of Julio's brain or if he'd heard the heated conversation he'd had with his brother. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but he had no words.

His friend wasn't looking for words, though. He didn't need a reply or a heart-to-heart. He just needed Drake to know this. "It's not your fault," he repeated, then he snuggled closer, hiding his face against his friend's ribs. Within seconds, he was asleep.

---

When his bedroom door opened, he woke up. His eyes opened and he saw Drake.

"Did you find it?" It was a different voice.

"Yeah."

"Where was it?"

"It was two yards away." Julio saw him hold up his cell phone. "It's cracked to shit. I couldn't even get it to answer when I called from your phone." As he said this, he held out a second phone.

The other guy in the room stepped forwards to take it. Now that he was in Julio's line of sight, he recognized him as Brett.

"I guess when Ricky gets home, just tell him I'm fine and I'm at work and not to worry. I get off at two-thirty and I'll come straight home unless something comes up, but I'll borrow a phone if it does and I'll call him." Despite their argument, he knew the man would still worry, but because of their argument, he'd probably assume that Drake was making him worry out of spite. The screen was so fucked that he wouldn't be able to answer calls or text and he had no idea if the tracker was still working, but he knew Brett was responsible and would relay the word.

"I'll tell him," he said.

"Thank you so much for doing this. I'm sorry to get you out of bed so early."

"Hey, it's no problem. I really don't mind helping. I'm glad you called."

"I'm sorry that I have to run, like, the second you get—"

"Drake?" It was Julio.

His friend walked over to him. "Hey, how are you feeling?" He sat down next to him.

"You're leaving?"

He paused for a second. "Um...I mean, I was gonna go to work, but Brett said he'll stay with you and get you whatever you need...but I can stay...if you want me to."

"No, it's okay."

"Are you sure? You know I'll stay if you want."

"I'm sure. Probably just gonna sleep anyway."

"Okay." Drake brushed Julio's hair out of his eyes, then leaned forwards and gave him a hug. When he pulled back, he told him, "By the way, my phone's busted, so if you need to call, just call the store. I wrote the number down." He motioned towards the nightstand.

"Okay."

"Julio..." Drake met his eyes. "You'd tell me...if you had anymore alcohol stashed away?"

Julio knew why he was asking. Obviously, they needed to get rid of whatever he had left, but that wasn't the only reason. Drake didn't know he'd overheard the fight between him and Ricardo and he really didn't plan on telling him. He knew that, by leaving Julio at a time like this, the oldest Santos brother would probably get even more pissed off. That blow-up was inevitable, but if Drake left and Julio somehow started drinking again without Brett noticing...then Drake was really toast. He felt selfish enough leaving, but he just got this job. Ricardo always took care of him when he was broke, but now he had Charlie. Maybe it was selfish after everything Ricky had done for him and after everything Drake had caused for Julio, but Charlie came first. Just like three(?) years ago, Charlie came first. Only this time, he wasn't referring to those pills.

"I don't," Julio said. "I promise. It was just those two. I mean, I think. I don't even know where they came from. It's like, one second, everything was fine, and then the next, they were just...there."

"Like...?" He was clearly confused.

"I know. It doesn't make sense. Maybe it was one of those things where everything happens so fast and all these emotions come crashing in and everything gets all foggy, but I really don't remember...going to the store, paying for these — any of it. It's just like...they appeared out of nowhere." The look on Drake's face said it all. "But obviously, that's not possible. I definitely, at some point during the night, got up and bought it. Maybe I was sleep-walking. Maybe I just had such a hard craving that I didn't even realize what I was doing. I don't know. I really don't remember."

The anger on Drake's face wasn't because of Julio and his shit memory. In fact, he believed his wacko story. He knew where the alcohol had come from.

Dahlia.

---

Drake closed the front door behind him, then set down his keys on the little table in the foyer. He started to go for the stairs, but movement in his periphery caught his attention. He turned towards the living room and saw Ricardo. The man was standing there, clearly enraged. His jaw was taut, his eyes glared daggers, his fists clenched and then unclenched — he was fuming. Drake lowered his head and sighed, then cursed under his breath. He was in trouble. He knew he was in trouble. He'd known that this was coming all day. He entered the living room and just stood there. Ricardo stood there waiting for him to speak — waiting for his bullshit excuse. However, Drake said nothing.

"Would you like to take a guess as to where Julio is right now?"

Obviously, the man wouldn't have asked if his brother was here, but that didn't stop Drake from quietly saying, "His roo—"

"The hospital!" he exploded, causing the boy to flinch. "The fucking hospital, Drake!"

The young man kept his head down and his mouth closed.

"Can I count on you for anything?!"

Water was already building up in his eyes. He sniffled, then tried to speak casually. "What happened?"

"He went to the bathroom and lost his balance! He fell and cracked his head open on the sink! What the fuck, Drake?! You were supposed to be with him!"

The young man sniffled, lifted his hand to wipe snot from his nose before it started dripping, then sniffled again. His eyes were still on the floor. Even though it was obvious that he was crying, he was trying to hide it, but his voice cracked when he asked, "Is he gonna be okay?"

"If you call a concussion and stitches okay, then I guess you could say that!"

A few of his tears landed on the floor. He exhaled as if he was trying to calm himself. Finally, he met the furious man's eyes because he knew he owed it to him. That's when Drake saw that the older of the two was crying just as much as he was. "Ricky, I'm so—"

"It's fucking Ricardo!" he yelled and the boy flinched again. "How many times do I have to tell you that?!" He hadn't said it in years. He always used to, but after the addict moved it, he'd started to get used to the nickname, or at least, that's what Drake had thought.

"I'm sorry, Ricardo." The name sounded strange coming off his tongue. He couldn't recall the last time he'd ever said it. "I'm sorry. I didn't think—"

"Exactly! You never fucking think, do you?!"

Tears continued to fall down both of their faces.

"You know what?! I take that back! You do think! You just think about yourself!"

Drake was no longer strong enough to make eye contact. He hung his head with shame. He said nothing in response because what Ricky — Ricardo — had said was true.

The man spoke again, but this time, his voice was back to a normal volume. "Honestly, Drake...I don't even wanna look at you right now."

The boy's face contorted as his roommate stalked past him. He heard him grab his jacket, open the door, slam it. Once he was gone, Drake broke down. He was frozen in place, left alone in the middle of the living room with only his guilt.

---

Drake downed, like, six Tylenol capsules. He'd cried for so long and so hard that he had the worst migraine. He'd calmed down pretty quickly after, then logged into his Facebook on Julio's laptop and set up a call with Kenzly so that he could speak to Charlie. She hadn't seen him all day and she wanted to spend the night. He told her she couldn't tonight, but that he'd come see her as soon as he could. She was disappointed, but she told him she loved him and said goodnight, then she ran off. Kenzly, who had been holding the phone, took over.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm."

"You sure? Your words are kinda slurring."

"Mmjust tired."

"I see. You can't even hold your eyes open."

"Havensleptin twodays. Workan Julioshit anRicky's been yellin' atme."

"Shit," she said. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No, I'm gonnasleep."

"Alright. I'll let you go. Goodnight."

Drake hung up without saying goodbye. He got in bed and was out the second his head hit the pillow. He had a series of strange dreams that night. Thankfully, none were nightmares. First, he dreamed about his and Dahlia's wedding and the turkey at the reception dinner coming back to life and destroying all the balloons, then he dreamed about being on a boat watching Julio vomit and Ricardo yell at him. After that, he dreamed that he was hitting on some girl he knew in high school and then they ended up in his bedroom. She was on top of him and she kissed him for a while, but when she sat back up, it wasn't her anymore. It was Dahlia. He cringed with pleasure as she crept her hand under the waistband of his boxers, stroking him until he got hard. He wanted to reach up and remove her shirt so he could touch her breasts, but he couldn't move. Handcuffs. She loved handcuffs. For the longest time, the only kind of sex they'd had was where she'd handcuff him and fuck him with a dildo. He missed that a little bit, to be honest. He missed her.

The sex in his dream was wild, although he was only there for bits and pieces of it. It's almost as if he had fallen asleep in his dream and woken back up multiple times with his ex still on top of him. When he ejaculated, he finally dozed off for good and had no further dreams.

---

Knock knock! The door opened. "Hey, Ricardo asked me to make sure — oh! Shit! Sorry!"

Drake's eyes snapped open when he heard the door slam. He couldn't remember falling asleep. At the moment, the last thing he remembered was Ricardo yelling at him. He looked down and found his legs spread and both of his hands in his boxers, which hung low on his hips. "Shit!" he pulled them out, then grabbed the comforter to cover himself, his face red with embarrassment.

"Um," Dee called from the other side of the door, "Ricardo just wanted me to make sure you got up for work. He wasn't sure if you had a way to set an alarm since your phone's broken."

Drake closed his eyes. "Thank you!" he called back, trying his best to sound casual as if he hadn't just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar — both hands, actually.

"No problem. I'm just, uh... I'm just gonna go."

When he heard Dee hurrying down the steps — obviously feeling just as embarrassed — he cursed quietly. "Shit!" Knowing there was nothing he could do about it now, he pushed the covers off. He had no recollection of last night at all. He brought his hand up to his nose and sniffed. "Fuck."

---

Drake just managed to get to work on time. After brushing his teeth, showering, changing into his uniform and taking some Tylenol for his killer headache, he managed to clock in exactly at five. He walked all the way to the back of the large store to grab his scanning coordinator cart and then he got today's tags from the lead coordinator Shawna. He got to work and started cursing himself pretty quickly for forgetting his jacket this morning. He'd showered earlier, so working frozen at 5:30 in the morning with damp hair didn't mix well. He always wore a jacket. He'd just been so scattered-brained lately. Tacking on a new kid and a new job, in addition to what he was already dealing with before, left him with little time to sleep. He didn't have as many tags today as he did yesterday, which was good. He was moving slowly and his thinking was cloudy and he was so fucking sleepy.

"Drake?" a woman said, snapping him out of his trance. It was his other co-worker Jeanette. "What are you doing?" She wasn't necessarily mean, but she wasn't overly nice either like Shawna was.

"Um..." He honestly couldn't even remember. He must've zoned out. He looked down at his cart.

"Didn't you hear them call for scanning?"

"Oh," he said dumbly. Think of an excuse! "The freezer's kinda loud."

She seemed to believe this. It was kind of true. Working frozen was like living in your own world sometimes.

"Well, come on. Bread guy's here."

"Actually, is it okay if I skip this one? I have to go to the restroom."

She let him go. Drake left his cart and walked all the way to the back right corner. It felt like such a far stretch, especially towards the end of the day when his feet were exhausted. People were starting to learn who he was, so they were asking him for things like price signs, which was the scanning coordinator's job. Shawna taught him how to do it yesterday, but he didn't remember well because he had been upset about Julio's well-being and his fight with Ricardo. Plus, there were different color signs and different size signs and different ways to type depending on if the product sold by weight or quantity. That was something he was gonna have to work on.

When he made it to the bathroom, he went straight to the sink and stared at his reflection. His lids hung low over his eyes, his body slouched and his arms dangled lazily by his side. He looked like shit, but he felt...high. Like, not a Charlie high or a trippy high or anything. It was more like...like the time he took the whole bottle of muscle relaxers at the truck stop as an attempt to kill himself. It wasn't that extreme, but if he had only taken one, it would've probably felt something like this.

Maybe he needed to slow down. Maybe he needed to figure out some type of schedule so that he could ease into parenting. Well, he already was doing that, but maybe he should step back just a little bit more and not keep his daughter three to four days out of the week. Maybe he should just do weekends. Just until he could get used to it. He really didn't think he had the heart, though. She loved staying with him and he loved seeing her all the time. He was going to have to figure something else out. Maybe he can get himself straightened out if he took Julio's advice and tried sleep medicine, just for a week — just until he got himself on a proper sleeping routine.

He really wasn't feeling good right now, though. Like, something was wrong. He thought about calling Ricardo, but he still didn't have a cell phone. Plus, the man was still pissed at him. Drake knew that Ricardo wanted him to come to him if he really needed to no matter what, but this wasn't really a good reason. What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sleepy?' The homeowner had bigger problems to worry about. This was probably just Drake's body trying to acclimate for having to get up so early. It'd just take some time.

The young man sighed, then turned on the sink. Cold water poured out of the faucet. He leaned over and splashed some on his face. Maybe that'll help.

---

(2 days later)

On his way home from work, Drake had nodded off at the wheel. What woke him was the blaring sound of the SUV's horn. He swerved back into his own lane, then, frightened and confused, he pulled into the parking lot of the next store he passed and calmed himself. It wasn't making sense. The only time he'd ever dozed off while driving was when he had wrecked the car he and Josh shared and that was because he had been under the influence of alcohol, Xanax, weed and Triple C's. The only thing that made sense to his tired mind was that he had to have been drugged. Clementine must be drugging him — drugging his food or something. How else could he possibly stay this tired? Yesterday, he was tired in the morning and then later on when he got home. Today, it was in the afternoon as he left work. It was inconsistent, so it would make sense if the food was drugged because he brought his lunch from home today and he didn't yesterday. Instead, he snagged a quick bite before breakfast and ate a little something for dinner.

He needed music — crazy music — to keep him awake. With this thought, one song in particular came to mind. He'd watched the U.S. adaptation of a movie called Funny Games a while back and, during the opening credits, there had been this super loud and all-over-the-place racket filled with drums and screeching. After a quick Google search, he found that the song was called Bonehead by Hellraiser. He played that song and turned it up loud and he even flinched when it started. It wasn't incredibly long, so as he drove home, he had to restart the song a few times, but he got home with no other incidents after that.

The second he got inside, he went straight for the refrigerator and opened it. He tried to think about what he had eaten over the past few days, but he couldn't remember. He was having trouble remembering a lot of things. He grabbed the first thing within reach — leftover pizza that he didn't recall ordering — and tossed it into the garbage can. He went back for more, throwing away hot dogs, turkey slices, shredded cheese — anything open or unprotected. He went to drag the can closer, but on his way, he saw the bowl of fruit. He picked up the entire thing and dumped it. Chips, bread, cereal — it all went in the trash. After clearing the counters and picking through the pantry and emptying entire cabinets, he went back over to the refrigerator. The bin was filled to the brim, but he grabbed his nearly full jug of orange juice and used it to make the trash more compact. He removed all the unsafe drinks. If it wasn't in a can, then it was trashed. While he did this, the front door opened. He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't hear it, but what he did hear was Ricardo's loud, angry voice.

"What the fuck?! Drake, what the hell are you doing?!"

The boy flinched and whipped around to see his roommate, along with a stunned Dee and a confused and bandaged Julio. He saw their eyes moving around the kitchen and he looked around, too. He could immediately tell why he was so upset. Not only was eighty percent of their food now ruined, but the entire kitchen was a mess. Foods and bags and boxes were everywhere. All the cabinets were open. The pantry door was open and food he had knocked off the shelf in his frantic search was scattered around the floor. The garbage can was overflowing with condiments and Dee's healthy food and the frozen ground beef Ricardo had been saving.

Drake couldn't remember it. He remembered throwing things away, but he didn't remember destroying everything in the process. He rubbed his face as if to wake himself up and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Did you take something?" the man asked with a kinder voice so that his roommate wouldn't be scared to open up to him. "Are you high right now?"

"No, I..." He tried to explain, but he couldn't. His eyes filled with water. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Ricardo repeated, stepping closer. "Did you relapse? Did you take Triple C's again?"

"No!" the young man swore.

He knew it looked bad. They had been at the hospital for a few days and then they all come back to see Drake destroying hundreds of dollars worth of food.

"What is this?" His friend took another cautious step closer. "Is this, like, uppers or something?"

"No!" He was getting increasingly upset. "She's drugging me!" he tried to explain.

"Who? Dahlia?"

"Yes!" Maybe he was understanding.

"Why would she do that?" Maybe not.

"I'm not crazy!" He felt crazy. He sounded crazy. But he wasn't crazy.

"I know that, Drake. No one's calling you crazy. We're just trying to understand why you're throwing all our food away."

"She's drugging me!" he said again, frantic and loud despite Ricardo's soft, calm demeanor. "I can feel it! I'm so tired and I can't think straight!"

"Maybe you just need to get some rest—"

"That's not it!" the boy exploded.

"Okay."

Drake knew what he looked like to them. He knew what they were thinking. He could see it in the way they all watched him with searching eyes and furrowed brows as if trying to find a reason for his erratic behavior. He put his hands over his eyes when his tears of frustration, confusion, fear and desperation started to fall. He leaned against the counter, then slid his back down it until he was sitting on the floor.

Ricardo paused and thought it over before approaching him, but he decided to go for it. He squatted down beside his friend. "Drake...what's going on?"

"She's been here!"

The man kept his voice calm as he asked his questions. "How do you know?"

"Because!" he snapped. "Because I can't think and my movies are wrong and my underwear is wrong and my closet is wrong and my remote is wrong! Everything is wrong!"

"What's wrong about it?"

"It's different!"

"Different how?"

"It just is! Things are moving or go missing or appear! She's drugging me!" he claimed again. "She's trying to make me look crazy!" He broke down into sobs. "I can't fucking think!"

"Why don't you try laying down for a while?" the man suggested. "Just rest a little bit and then we can talk about it some more when you wake up."

The boy nodded and Ricardo helped him onto his feet. "My head hurts," he complained.

"Just go on upstairs and lay down. I'll bring you some medicine and water."

Drake picked up his backpack and unzipped it, then pulled out the headache medicine his friend was referring to. "I don't want bottled water." He watched Ricardo go to the cabinet and grab a glass, but then he started thinking that maybe something was in all the glasses. He went over to the sink and turned it on. There was no way Dahlia could do anything to sink water. He leaned over and scooped some up in his hand, then swallowed the pills.

"Come on," Julio said. "Come lay with me." He wrapped his arm over his friend's shoulders and led him upstairs.

Dee just stared at his boyfriend. "What the hell was that?" he asked when the two younger boys were out of earshot.

"I have no idea. I've never seen him like that before."

"Do you think he's on drugs," his partner asked, "or do you think he's telling the truth?"

He paused and gave it some thought, but he was clueless. "I don't even know which would be worse."

---

Ricardo shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, then he closed the fridge and freezer and turned to his boyfriend. "I don't know what to fucking cook. He literally threw out everything except the snack cakes and microwave boxes of mac and cheese wheels." He leaned forwards against the island, resting his head in his hand. "I just bought fucking groceries, too. Like, what the fuck? I wasn't even gone four days."

"Let's order out," Dee said. He got off the bar-stool and went around to the other side of the island to be near his significant other. "I'll pay," he said, "and you can thank me tonight." He smiled, then kissed his jaw line.

Ricardo turned and connected their lips again, then again. "I love you."

Dee placed his hand on the man's cheek. "I love you, too." He kissed him some more.

"Mm-mm." Julio cleared just throat as he came downstairs and the couple rolled their eyes and separated.

"How is he?" the oldest asked.

"He's out. He passed out the second he laid down and he's still asleep." He sat down in a stool after grabbing a snack cake. "What the hell is going on?"

His brother shrugged. "Beat's me."

"Well, do you think it's true? Do you think Dahlia's drugging us?"

"I don't know. I just think...I think he's really stressed and he's tired and he's having to make a lot of changes and it's getting to him."

"You think that's it? I mean, he's lost his damn mind, bruh."

"Well, what do you think?"

"I don't know, but I definitely don't think he's sober," Julio said. "Maybe he's right. Maybe she broke in while we were gone or asleep and she put something in our food."

"No one else is acting like he is," Ricardo said.

"No one else has been here," the youngest replied. "Not in the last few days."

Dee asked, "Would she really do that?"

"Why not? She drugged Hero." He saw that the two were pondering this. "Or maybe he's using. I doubt it's Triple C's. I mean, he's kinda slurring and stumbling, but he wouldn't have went to sleep like that on Triple C's. He wouldn't have wasted the high. If it is drugs, I can't even tell if it's a sedative or a stimulant. I mean, he is knocked out up there, but the shit he did earlier... He's told me about Rhinestone doing crazy shit on meth after staying up for, like, a week. He started hallucinating and shit. Knocked on all his neighbors' doors and warned them about the shadow people that were in the woods."

"I guess I need to do a room search," Ricardo said sadly. "He's been doing so well."

"Maybe it's nothing," his boyfriend assured. "Maybe you're right and it's just the stress that's getting to him."

"Has he been like this the whole time we were gone? Like, when's the last time Charlie came over? Was he acting like this around her or has he been avoiding her these last few days?"

"You want me to talk to Kenzly and see if she knows anything?" his little bro asked.

"No, not until we know for sure. I don't want it to get back to his mom that he's using, especially if it turns out he's not."

"How do you think she'd react if he was?"

"I don't even wanna think about it."

"You think she'd keep him from seeing his daughter?"

"I don't know. Charlie really doesn't need to see him like that." He pushed himself away from the island. "Anyway, I've had enough speculating. I'm gonna gonna go see what I can find in his room."

"I'm gonna order pizza," Dee said. "Is that okay with everyone?"

"Ooh. Yes, please," Julio said excitedly. He was so tired of hospital food.

---

Drake's eyes opened slowly and he saw a figure in front of him. His vision was blurry from tiredness, so he had to blink several times before the image got clearer. "Clem?"

"No, it's me." Ricardo was sitting close to the foot of the bed so that he could face him.

"Oh. Sorry." He rubbed his eyes.

"I think we need to talk," the man said somberly.

"'Bout what?"

"I went through your room."

Drake tried to wrack his brain to see if he had anything hiding in there, but he couldn't recall.

"I found this." Ricardo set something down in front of the boy.

He stared at it. It was a five-pack of syringes, but there were only four in there. He furrowed his brows with confusion then looked up at him with a small smile, wondering if this was a joke. When he saw that it wasn't, his smile faded. "That's not mine."

"Have you been using meth?"

"What? No. No, of course not."

"But you're shooting up."

"I'm not."

"Why is there one missing, Drake?" the man asked seriously.

"I promise. That's not mine." He was progressively getting more and more upset.

"I found it taped to the top of one of the blades on your ceiling fan."

The accused shook his head and shrugged innocently. "I don't know how it got there."

Ricardo sighed. "I looked through your backpack." The next thing he put in front of his friend was a single syringe.

The young man shook his head with confusion. Still, he couldn't think straight, so he wasn't able to wrap his head around why this was happening. "That's...it's not mine," he swore.

Ricardo watched him deny his suspicions and he wanted to believe him, but he couldn't. It saddened him to think that the addict had adopted his old habit of lying again. "Lemme see your arms, Drake."

"You don't trust me?"

Ricardo gripped his wrist and turned his right arm over. Clear. He did the same with the left. Right in the fold of his arm was a small, circular, reddish-brown scab. A couple inches below that was a twin scab. Both marks were right above slightly visible blue veins. Drake stared at them with confusion. He then heard his friend sigh with disappointment and fear.

"No," he said, looking at the man. "I-I didn't... I'm not..." He lowered his eyes to the track marks again.

"Drake, I need you to tell me the truth."

"I am! I swear on everything. I have no idea where any of this came from." His eyes watered over as he watched his friend hang his head. He furrowed his brows. "Please believe me."

"I..." He sighed. "I want to."

"You think I'm lying about everything," he said softly, clearly hurt. "I thought you would be the one person who was on my side."

"I am on your side, Drake. All I want is for you to be okay. I just want what's best for you."

"Can't you see what she's doing? She's doing this. She's trying to tear us apart. She's trying to isolate me and control me. She's trying to make me look crazy. Don't you see it?" he begged through his tears.

Ricardo spoke, bringing up his own theory. "I didn't mean to upset you or hurt your feelings after Julio relapsed."

Drake shook his head slightly and more tears fell as he realized no one believed him.

"I was scared. Last time, when he fell down the stairs and had to go to the hospital, he would've died had you not shown up when you did. That's...that's my baby brother, you know? Seeing him like that in the hospital, knowing my last conversation with him could've been us fighting — it was the worst feeling. You saved him, though. You saved his life, so when you left him this time, I got upset thinking about what could've happened without you. It's not that I don't trust Brett. I just...I wanted you here. It wasn't right — the way I blew up on you. I was just scared and desperate and I felt like everything was out of my control and I hate that." Ricardo met his eyes. "If I said something that hurt you — that made you wanna use drugs—"

"No..." Sobs left him. "Why don't you believe me? Please."

"It's okay. I can still help you. I just need you to be honest with me and tell me what you did so we can work on this together."

He wept pitifully. He was just as scared and confused as his protective friend — even more so, in fact.

"Drake, please, just let me help you."

With these words, his bottom lip quivered pathetically and it broke Ricardo's heart. The boy hung his head and continued to cry. He wasn't sure he could recall a time he had ever felt as alone as he did now and it seemed to cause an actual physical pain in his chest.

"It's okay. I'm not mad. I'm really not." He lifted the boy's head by placing the side of his curved pointer finger under his chin. "We'll figure this out. I just need you to talk to me. Tell me what you're doing."

"I'm not...doing...anything!" he could barely manage to choke out. He was clearly frustrated. He stayed committed to his story. "She's drugging me! She's turning you against me!"

"No one is against you, Drake."

"But you are! Otherwise, you'd believe me!"

"Can you blame me?"

"I know I've lied before. I know I've betrayed you. I know that and I'm so sorry. I know I've given you no reason to ever believe anything I say, but I'm begging you. Just please believe me this one last time. I'm so scared. Please."

The man sighed, his heart breaking and aching for his troubled friend. Just seeing him so desperate made him feel like he was going to cry himself. "Okay," he found himself giving in, "but I need you to tell me everything — everything that happened to make you think she's doing this. I don't know what I believe yet, but I'm willing to listen. We'll talk this out and we'll try to figure it out, okay?"

---

When Ricardo went back downstairs, he saw Dee and Julio hovering over boxes of cheesy, delicious pizza.

"Pizza guy just came," Dee said. "What did Drake say?"

"He still swears Dahlia's drugging him. He thinks the fact that I found the syringes should've been proof that she's doing all this. I checked his arms and he's got track marks."

"Shit." His boyfriend sighed sadly.

"He didn't say anything convincing?" Julio asked.

"Well, no, he said some things, but they're just little unexplained occurrences and I think he's thinking too much into them."

Dee asked, "Like what?"

"Like he thinks someone went through his underwear drawer. He said his favorite shirt's missing, which, I mean, as often as he moves around and couch-hops and all that stuff, I think it could be anywhere. He brought up when I found my keys in his room, but Charlie loves playing with my keys. She probably took them and left them there. The only thing that I really couldn't debunk was when he found a knife in his floor, but I don't know. He could've been sleep-walking. He thinks Dahlia broke in and opened his bedroom door when Charlie got out and almost fell down the stairs. He said something about her seeing a picture of Dahlia and calling her Dee. It was something about him thinking Dee had accidentally let Macaulay out, but now he thinks it was Dahlia." He looked at his brother. "He also claims that she's the one who made you relapse — that she bought alcohol and stashed it in your room for you to find."

Julio played this scenario out in his mind before concluding, "I think I'm starting to believe him."

"Why?"

"Because I don't remember buying that alcohol. Like, I only told Drake because I knew it sounded crazy for me to do something and not remember it. I tried to think of reasons why I might've forgotten, but I honestly don't think I did. I wasn't even thinking about drinking until I opened my nightstand and saw it. Do you think, knowing that you do random room searches, that I really would've hidden shit there?" He continued with, "And you've gotta admit the knife story is pretty scary. I mean, it sounds like a threat. Like, about a week ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and saw Drake by the window in the bathroom. I thought he might be planning some escape, but he just said he was making sure it was locked. After I got done using the bathroom, I heard noises downstairs, so I snuck down there and watched him check every single window and closet and possible hiding spot. That was before I had to go to the hospital. We were here everyday then. Didn't he seem pretty normal at the time? He seemed sober, right?"

"Meth can make you pretty paranoid and, like you said, if you stay up, you'll start hallucinating and hearing things." Ricardo asked, "Wasn't he having a hard time sleeping before you even went to the hospital? Maybe this all started right under our noses. I mean, he was acting a little weird before your relapse if I'm being honest."

Dee brought some questions to the table. "How would his ex know exactly what kind of whiskey you like, though? Wasn't it your favorite?" he asked Julio. "Plus, how did she know that you'd end up in the hospital so she could 'torture' Drake while he was alone? Or how could she know Ricardo would search his room and look on top of the ceiling fan of all places?"

"Maybe she's watching us," he said. "Maybe she set up cameras or maybe he missed a window or something when he was locking them."

"Drake has a key to the house." Ricardo wasn't sure which side of the fence he was leaning towards, but he was exploring all the options. "She could've taken it when they were together and made a copy for herself. Maybe that's how she's getting in."

"I think we need to change the locks," Julio said. "Nothing else makes sense. He was perfectly fine — maybe a little stressed and tired — four days ago. Now it's like I don't even recognize him."

"I'm off tomorrow," his brother said. "I'll get new locks and new keys made. I think he's off work tomorrow, too, so, if it is just stress and exhaustion, he should be better after resting tomorrow."

Julio nodded. "My head's hurting after all this thinking. Do you have my prescription?"

"Yeah. My head's pounding, too. Dealing with Dahlia is such a migraine." He grabbed the bottle of Tylenol that Drake had left on the island earlier and he took two, then he got two for Drake. "I forgot I was supposed to bring him these. I'll bring you your meds in a second. Don't follow me." He disappeared upstairs. He kept Julio's medication hidden. He didn't think his little brother would abuse it, but it was best to be safe than sorry, especially since he was just a few days sober from alcohol. When he came downstairs, he gave the young man one pill. "I forgot he won't drink any fucking water," he said about Drake. "He literally swallowed it down with his spit. If this was Dahlia...I don't know what she could've done to have him too scared to eat and drink."

---

"I'm not hungry," Drake said, still laying in Julio's bed since the day before.

"You need to eat," his friend said. "Look, I just went out and got this from McDonald's. There's no way Dahlia could've gotten to it. It's been in my sight the whole time." He opened the bag and pulled out a wrapped biscuit and four hash browns. He wasn't sure when his friend had last eaten, but he looked as though he had lost some weight while he was gone. "I got you favorite hash browns. Sit up and eat."

He did love those hash browns and the smell was so enticing. His mouth was salivating just thinking about it. Plus, he was super hungry. The last thing he had eaten was the lunch he'd packed for work. That was around 11:30 yesterday morning. He liked taking late lunches. That way, he'd only have a couple hours left when he clocked back in.

Drake listened to the boy and sat up. "I have to brush my teeth first," he said, then he suddenly seemed rather fearful.

"I brushed my teeth this morning and I'm fine," Julio assured. "The toothpaste is fine."

"What if she did something gross to my toothbrush?"

"Why do you think that?"

He didn't have an answer. He was well aware how fucking ridiculous it sounded. He couldn't describe it, but knowing that his personal belongings had been touched and that he was at the mercy of someone else made him sick. She could've done anything.

"I think my brother has a pack of toothbrushes. I just got one from him the other week. I'll get one for you, okay?" With that, he went into Ricardo's room and noticed the man groggily open his eyes. "I'm getting a toothbrush for Drake," he said.

The man just groaned in response and rubbed his tired eyes.

After he got the toothbrush, he gave it to his friend, then returned to Ricardo's room and sat down on his bed. "You okay?"

The man sat up and glanced at the clock. He rubbed his eyes some more and looked at it again. 11:50 a.m. "S'fucking late. I don't even remember going to sleep."

"I got breakfast and I went ahead and got new doorknobs. This Dahlia shit really got to my head and I couldn't sleep. I kept feeling like she was watching me," he said. "Dee's downstairs."

Ricardo got up and found himself still wearing his clothes from yesterday: skinny jeans and a button-up shirt. As he followed his brother downstairs, he was clearly confused.

"You passed out on the couch during the movie," Julio explained. "We hardly got you to walk upstairs. You were acting weird last night. Do you remember?"

"Hmm?" he said tiredly and, when he reached the kitchen, Dee greeted him with a kiss.

"You kept babbling about shit that didn't make sense."

"Yeah, it was weird," Dee said. "You don't remember any of that?"

The man's shook his head.

"You said something about taking our pet turtle with us on our honeymoon."

"And making it your best man," Julio butted in, offended that his spot was being stolen from him by some imaginary turtle they didn't even have yet. "Explain yourself." It was more of a joke because obviously his brother wouldn't replace him, but someone needed to bring humor back into this house and it looked like it was up to him.

"What?" He rubbed his head with fatigue and confusion.

"You feeling okay?"

"Everything's so disorienting."

"And you were slurring your words last night, too," Julio said. "Did you, like, pop a couple of my pain meds or something?"

"No, the only thing I took was..."

It was at that moment that it dawned on them. He'd taken a few Tylenols for his headache. Soon after that is when he'd started acting weird.

Dee reached for the bottle that was on the kitchen island and unscrewed the cap. He poured several out on the countertop and they all picked one up to examine it. When he applied a small bit of pressure, the capsule opened and half fell into the pile of pills. White powder followed. "Dude, these have been opened."

"Are you sure?" his boyfriend asked.

"They're not supposed to come apart that easily. Some medicines are dangerous if they're not in a capsule. That's why they tell you not to take them if they're busted open or crushed." He squeezed another pill and it broke apart just as easily. "This probably isn't even fucking Tylenol."

"So..." Julio started, almost in disbelief, "Dahlia...is drugging him? Is that what we're saying?"

Dee looked at his boyfriend. "What movie did we watch last night?"

"What?"

"What movie?"

Ricardo shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. You said I fell asleep."

"Not until about a fourth of the way through."

The man tried to search his brain for some sort of memory of anything, but he couldn't. He shook his head again.

"We watched Hereditary. Do you remember that?"

Again, he thought. "I mean...faintly. I remember them sitting in a circle in a gym or something and this girl cutting off a bird's head."

"What do you feel like right now?" Julio asked.

"I don't know. Tired. A little cloudy."

"I think it's fucking sleep medicine in there," Julio said. "Drake gave me Tylenol for my hangover and I slept through most of it. Brett gave me some and after that is when I went to the bathroom and fell. That was around lunch time. I definitely wasn't still drunk. I was doped up on sleeping pills. Plus, I had all that alcohol in my system."

"But he has track marks," Ricardo reminded.

"She probably just jabbed him with a needle a couple times while he was passed out so we wouldn't believe him."

"Drake was right," Dee started to realize. "Dahlia's been here."

"She could've gone through all of our shit," Julio said, his paranoia now reaching Drake's level. "She could've shoved our toothbrushes up her ass or..." he said, "...or recorded us jerking off or something."

They both looked at Ricardo, who was quiet. His mind was moving a bit slower, but he was catching up. "Well...well, what should we do?"

Just then, Drake came down the stairs. He slowed when everyone's heads whipped in his direction, the sudden noise frightening their paranoid minds. "What?" he asked quietly, a bit scared himself after seeing the expressions on their faces. His eyes moved to the Tylenol capsules that were spilled and severed on the countertop. "What are you doing?"

Julio left his question unanswered. "How often have you been taking this Tylenol?"

"I don't...I don't know. I've been having a lot of headaches."

"Have you been taking them everyday?" his friend asked. "Multiple times a day maybe?"

"Maybe." He felt like he was in trouble, so he repeated, "I've been having these headaches—"

"How many do you usually take at a time?"

He looked just as disoriented and confused as Ricardo did. "Just like...two, you know?"

"Drake, I need you to tell me the truth."

"It's just Tylenol," he said defensively. "I've been having these headaches—"

"Drake, no one's mad at you," Dee assured. "It's okay. We just wanna know."

The young man was quiet for a moment before giving them a little bit more information. "Well, I usually just take two," he said, "but sometimes...I've been having these migraines. I might take more."

"How many more?" Dee questioned.

"I might take...like...maybe four... Something like that."

Still unsure just how truthful his friend was being, Julio took that to mean that it could probably be anywhere from two to eight depending on his headache. He turned to his brother. "How many did you take?"

"I took two."

"It's just Tylenol," Drake said.

"No, it's not," said Julio. "This is how Dahlia's been drugging you."

He was clearly confused. He stepped closer, his brows furrowed as he looked at the scattered pills.

"These have been opened before," the youngest said. "She took out the actual Tylenol or whatever and replaced it with — we think — sleeping pills."

Drake tried to replay the last few days in his head, but he couldn't remember much. He'd slept a lot. Well...he thought he slept a lot. Really, he could've been doing anything. Maybe it was something like Xanax. Take a few bars of that shit and you're gone. "Like benzos?" he asked meekly, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for protection. He rubbed the side of his neck restlessly.

"Maybe," Julio said.

"I took a lot," he admitted finally. He wasn't quite sure how he was feeling. He was glad that his friends believed him and that he was proven not to be crazy, but now he had to face the indisputable fact that his ex fiancée — a girl he had loved and respected so much — was trying to...to...to what? "Why would she do that?"

"Can you remember anything?" Ricardo asked. "Do you remember seeing her or talking to her or anything?"

He shook his head.

"Think hard."

Drake gave it some thought, but nothing came to him. "I don't know."

Ding dong!

Julio separated himself from the crew and went to answer the front door. Dee and Ricardo started talking amongst themselves, trying to figure out when this started and what Dahlia could've done to their things. Drake picked up one of the pills and examined it. He rolled it around on his palm, then broke it open to study its contents. He tried to think of something — some memory of her — but he couldn't. He couldn't even remember the last time he spoke to his daughter. Did he talk to her while fucked up? Or did he completely ghost and no one could get ahold of him because his cell phone was broken? He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard his full name from a distance, so he followed the voice to the foyer where Julio had gone, leaving the couple alone to discuss theories.

"This is fucked up," the oldest said.

"I know," Dee agreed. "This is like some fucking...Lifetime movie shit. It's unreal."

"I think it's time for him to get that restraining order. I know he's not gonna wanna get her in trouble, but something's gotta be done. All possible contact with her needs to be cut off. He needs to block her number and block her on Facebook. Like, I don't even give a shit. I'm not giving him the choice anymore. He's fucking doing it."

"It doesn't make any sense how she's so stuck on him when she treated him like shit while they were together," Dee said. "He did everything for her, but she showed him no respect. When he finally got the balls to leave, now she's pissed? What did she think was gonna happen?"

"I wonder what she's gaining from all this," the man said. "It can't just be to make Drake think he's crazy. I mean, I guess it could, but how could she really guarantee that kinda thing?"

"Maybe she was trying to lure him back to drugs," his boyfriend offered. "Or just ruin his life in general. He's lucky he hasn't gotten fired if he acts like this at his job. Plus, where's Charlie been? He's in no state to be taking care of her — not when he can hardly keep his eyes open."

"I don't think he's—"

"Ricardo!" Julio said frantically as he entered the kitchen, "They're arresting Drake!"

"What?" He got up quick and went out into the foyer, his boyfriend in tow. That's where he found Drake being read his rights by an officer who was putting his hands in cuffs. "What's going on?" he asked.

The young man looked at him. "I didn't do it. I didn't do it."

Julio said, "Dahlia accused him of rape!"

Ricardo's heart sank. He was at a loss for words and the fuzziness from the sleeping pills wasn't helping anything.

"I didn't do it," Drake swore and he was turned towards the door.

"I know," the man assured as his friend was led away. "Don't worry. We'll get you out. We'll figure this out."

---

"I know, Drake. I know you didn't do it," Ricardo assured. "Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out. Do you know how much your bail is yet?" He paused. "Have you been booked yet?"

Julio was leaning against the island, his elbow resting on the countertop as he bit into his thumbnail nervously. He watched his brother pace back and forth and wondered how he was being so vocally calm.

"No, I won't. No one's gonna tell her. Hey, listen. Don't talk to anyone other than your attorney, okay? If they try to ask you questions, tell them you're not gonna answer anything until they appoint you an attorney."

Dee had his eyes glued to his cell phone as he sat on one of the bar-stools, scrolling through article after article about the court process and what to do about false rape accusations.

"I know, but you're not being rude. All you have to do is tell them you would like your attorney present. They're not gonna think you're being an asshole. That's just what tv makes it look like." Pause. "Look, I know you didn't assault her, but I have to ask. Did you two sleep together?... You promise?... Okay, that's good. If they don't find your semen inside her, then they won't have any other choice but to drop the case. Have you been seeing her?" He kept his eyes on the floor as he moved from the pantry to the small dining room table and back again. "No calling or texting or anything?... That's good." He rubbed his hands through his hair, then pet it back down. "No one thinks you did it, Drake... Just try to breathe, okay? Without any evidence, there's no way this is gonna make it to trial. She's just fucking with you just like she always does. She knows this won't go anywhere. She just wants to scare you. Huh?... When is that?... That's what? Two days from now? It'll be fine. You're not gonna lose your job. The second we know how much your bail is, we're gonna come get you." He looked sad as he listened to his best friend freak out. "I know you wouldn't. It's so fucked up what she's doing. She's just jealous that you're moving on. I know you would never do that... No, Drake. They don't think that about you either."

Julio frowned sympathetically. He knew his friend's brain was filling him with negativity, just like it often did. Right now, it was probably telling him that his roommates thought he was gross and horrible.

"Most of the neighbors were at work," Ricardo said. "Yeah, well, fuck Mrs. Tarby. Don't even worry about her. She's nosy as hell." Pause. "I know... You don't have to feel embarrassed around us... Okay... Yeah... Well, you can call anytime you need to. I wrote down those numbers you gave me, so the second we know how much your bail is, we're gonna come get you... Yeah, it shouldn't be too much longer... Okay. I will... Okay... I love you, too. Bye."

His brother and boyfriend looked at him when he hung up. Ricardo sighed, then moved closer to them.

"How is he?" Julio asked.

"He's holding up. He's really upset and embarrassed and anxious, but he's keeping it together."

"Dahlia's a fucking cunt," Julio spat viciously. "I've never hated someone so much."

"What did Drake say?" Dee asked. "Has he been booked?"

"No. He didn't say a whole lot. Just that he was embarrassed. He said he didn't want his mom to know."

"What do we do if she calls?" Julio asked. "I mean, he probably hasn't even spoken to her in days. She's gotta be wondering if he's relapsed again."

Ricardo gave it some thought. "If she calls, we'll just tell her that he's been going through one of his depression episodes and he goes straight to bed after work. He shouldn't be in there long anyway. She probably won't call."

"So what do we do now?" his brother asked.

"I guess we just wait."

---

It was roughly an hour later when Drake called. Ricardo picked up immediately and everyone hovered around, waiting for some kind of news.

"Hey... You okay?" He could tell there was something off in his friend's voice, like he was trying hard to keep himself from breaking down. He hated that he couldn't be there with him. "They did? What did they say?" Pause. "How much?!"

"What did he say?" Julio asked.

"No, just... Just give me some time to—" Pause. "I've still gotta call the bondsman, so—" His eyes subconsciously moved the the phone numbers he had written down. "Don't. We can figure something out. I—" He went quiet again, then he sighed. "No," he said somberly. "But look — just wait. Don't — Drake?... Drake?" He heard his phone beep and pulled it away from his ear to see it change from the call screen to the lock screen.

"What did he say?" Julio asked with anticipation.

"They told him the cost of his bail."

"Well, how much?" Despite overhearing one half of the conversation and knowing it hadn't gone well, he was still hopeful.

"It's a hundred thousand dollars."

"What?!" Julio said, his hatred towards Dahlia bubbling up again.

"Geez," came out of Dee's mouth.

"Apparently, the bail for rape in California is a hundred grand."

"Okay, well... Well, we'll just call the numbers. They'll pay most of it. When I got the DUI, mine was at five thousand and Drake just had to pay a few hundred."

"When you go through a bondsman, you still have to pay ten percent," Dee said.

Ricardo looked at his increasingly upset younger brother. "That's ten grand, Julio," he informed gently.

"But we can get the money, right?" he asked, his eyes filling with hot tears. "We can borrow it or get a loan or something."

The man sighed. "We can try."

"I don't want him to be stuck in there." His tears started falling, but he pretended they weren't. "He doesn't deserve it."

His brother approached him and pulled him into a hug. "I know. None of us want him to stay in there. We'll figure something out."

---

Ricardo and Dee both folded back the comforter from opposite sides of the bed, then they started removing some of the excess pillows that were really just for looks.

"Did Drake say anything else when you talked to him?" the younger one asked. He'd wanted to ask earlier in the kitchen, but he hadn't been sure it would've been good for Julio to hear it if there was more bad news.

"Not really. He kept saying he had to go and then he hung up on me."

"You don't think he was mad at you, do you?" Dee got into bed next to his boyfriend, who was fluffing his pillows.

"I don't think so. I think just talking to me and hearing my voice made him upset and he knows he can't cry in there or they're gonna fuck with him," he said. "I think he's probably doing okay until he gets on the phone." He set his pillow down and straightened. He sighed, slumped and defeated, his mind constantly creating worrying scenarios.

"He's been in jail before, hasn't he?"

Ricardo recalled a time when Drake was four years younger. He'd taken the boy to Dollar General like requested and Drake came out with a bunch of cough medicine he hadn't paid for. The man could remember piecing everything together as an officer ran out the door after him. "He was in a holding cell. He got bailed out before he had to go to gen-pop."

Dee saw how stressed his boyfriend was and motioned for him to turned away from him. He scooted closer and put his hands on his shoulders, massaging his tense muscles.

"That's probably where he is now." He went quiet again and more thoughts ran through his mind. "And you know how he is about his body and strangers, especially men. And they're gonna strip search him and make him bend over and cough. That's so degrading." He'd had to do the same many years ago when he went to prison for beating and nearly killing someone. In prison, he'd straightened his life out, but he didn't think being locked up would have that same effect on his younger, shyer, submissive friend. "And he's gonna have to bunk with guys he doesn't know and shower with them and shit in front of them. And what happens when someone starts picking on him? He won't stand up for himself. If you don't stand up for yourself in there..." He didn't even want to think about it. "Dahlia's so fucked up," he spat. "I can't believe she stooped this low. Knowing his past and knowing that jail is one giant fucking system of abuse. How can someone be so heartless? He's spent years trying to figure out how to cope with what was done to him by those disgusting fucking monsters and now he's gonna be locked in a cell with them. He's gonna be labeled as one. That shit follows you. If people hear about this, whether you're found innocent or not, your life is pretty much over. And there's no doubt in my mind that Dahlia's out there blabbing away to all her friends so she can get attention. Perra asquerosa."

"I got the bitch part," Dee said. Since getting with Ricardo, he was working on understanding Spanish a bit more. "What's the other word?"

"Asquerosa. It means 'disgusting.'"

"Ah. Sí. Muy perra asquerosa."

The man couldn't help but crack a smile despite his stress. "Perra tan asquerosa," he corrected.

"Damn it." He pulled his hands away from his boyfriend's shoulder when he started to turn back around.

Ricardo looked at him, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "Eres lindo cuando intentas hablar español y te equivocas."

"Uh-huh," Dee agreed adorably, making his partner chuckle. He continued to bluff for a few moments, but finally, he cluelessly asked, "What's that mean?"

His partner shook his head and laughed, then laid down with his back to him and pulled the comforter up to his chest.

"What's that mean?"

"Buenas noches."

"Don't you 'goodnight' me! What did you say?" He tugged his significant other's shoulder to force him onto his back and he leaned over him so that he'd have to look at him. "What'd you say?"

"I said 'You are God's gift to the world and I am thankful.'" He was still grinning with amusement as he teased him.

"Bullshit. You don't wanna tell me? Fine." He pulled back and then laid down, too. "You know what I have to say to that. Bésame el trasero." This actually made Ricardo bust out laughing and hearing it made Dee join in.

"I would be honored."

"Mm-hmm."

Underneath the covers, their legs intertwined together and they gravitated closer, somehow becoming wrapped in one another's arms without even noticing.

"I would!"

"You better."

"I can tell you've been doing extra squats at the gym."

Dee wore a toothy grin when he felt his boyfriend grab his butt. "Just trying to keep up with the competition before someone hotter steals you away from me."

"Never." Ricardo closed his eyes and kissed the tip of the man's nose, then his significant other lifted his chin and pressed their lips together.

---

The second his cell phone rang, Ricardo sat up in bed, his speed waking Dee. His boyfriend opened his eyes tiredly and watched him eagerly grab his cellphone.

"Hello?" There was a pause, then he sighed and dropped his phone back on the nightstand.

"What was it?" Dee asked with concern.

"One of those fake notices about my car's extended warranty."

The man frowned sympathetically, then pulled Ricky back down into a laying position. "He'll call," he said. "It's early."

"He should've been up by now. They probably woke him up hours ago."

"Maybe he doesn't wanna wake you up," he said, "or he might not know you put money on his books already." Dee ran his fingers up and down his partner's bicep to offer comfort. "It could be any number of things. He could've went back to sleep or just hasn't worked up the nerve to leave his cell yet. You shouldn't stress yourself out jumping to conclusions. He'll call."

"I think he's mad at me."

"Why would he be mad at you?"

"All we've done all week is fight. I blamed him for my brother relapsing, then I blew up on him when I told him about Julio being in the hospital, then I yelled at him when I walked in and saw the kitchen destroyed. On top of all that, he tried to tell me that Dahlia was drugging him and I didn't believe him. He was crying and begging me to, but I just couldn't. I made him feel like he was crazy."

"We all had a hard time believing that story. He's lied about relapsing before. I think he would understand why we were all so skeptical."

"I should've believed him." He couldn't get that image out of his head: his best friend reduced to tears, vulnerable, desperate, scared, alone.

Dee leaned forwards and planted a soft kiss on the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. "Why don't I call the jail and ask when visitation is? Maybe you can see him today."

The man nodded and watched his boyfriend turn over and pick up his cell phone. "I'm gonna check on my brother — see if he's up."

He got out of bed and pulled his gray sweatpants on over his underwear. Afterwards, he left the room and moved across the hall. After a soft tap, he pushed the door to Julio's bedroom open and looked inside. Nothing. Part of him started to feel a bit nervous, but not so much yet. He still had an entire house to explore. He could be in the bathroom or the kitchen or the living room. Surely he wouldn't have relapsed at a time like this — with him just getting out of the hospital and Drake being thrown in jail. Ricardo continued down the hallway and found the bathroom door cracked open and the light turned off. He moved towards the staircase, heading for the kitchen, but stopped when he heard a meow. He gripped the knob to Drake's room and turned it, then stepped inside. He found his little bro sitting cross-legged on the bed, petting Agent Jack Bauer's short, black fur.

Julio looked up at him. "Hey," he said, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy.

"You slept in here?"

"No," he said, then he pulled his hand away from the animal when it bit him. "I just don't think Drake would want his dumb cats to wake up without being loved. Spoiled sons of bitches." He moved on to Macaulay, which made the other cat jealous.

Ricardo took a seat on the bed and pulled Agent Jack Bauer away from his brother. He held him against his chest and massaged its head. The kitty closed her eyes and purred.

"Dee's gonna call and see what days they have visitation," he said.

"Has Drake called?"

"Not yet," he said, "but it's still early. He'll call." He used some of the positivity Dee had given him and transferred it to Julio. "Everything's gonna work out."

Julio nodded slightly, absently. He kept his eyes low, watching Macaulay turn her head and guide his hand as he pet her. Still, his brother could see a layer of water building up over the hazel part of his eyes.

"Hey..." he said softly and just that one word alone made the boy break. The older man put the cat he held down and scooted closer. "Come here." He wrapped his brother up in his arms and held him close.

"It's not fucking fair," he sobbed.

"I know."

"He never did anything to her but love her."

Ricardo closed his eyes as he rested his chin on the top of the young man's head, his heart breaking for him. "I know."

"How could she do that? He did everything for her. He ditched all his friends. He proposed. He forgave her for almost killing him."

"Karma's gonna come back and bite her in the ass one day. She always told Drake that no one else would put up with him and that he'd be alone, but that's not true. She's the one who's gonna be alone. I think she realizes that now. She knows no one else will worship her or let her treat him like shit like Drake did. They're gonna drop the charges and he'll get out of jail and he's gonna move on with his life and she'll still be alone. She's got nothing left. Drake left her and her friends ditched her. She'll get what's coming to her and then she'll wish she would've been kinder to him. He's got us. He's got a lot of love and support. He's got Charlie. He'll come out on top."

Julio's weeping lessened and he felt comforted by his brother's words.

Ricardo pulled away from him and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Plus, we're still gonna see about that loan. Maybe we can get it approved quickly and get him out. As long as he shows up to court, we'll be refunded and we'll just pay the bank back. We should be okay after that as long as we give the money back."

"When are you gonna call?"

"I'll call today — the second they open."

Julio wiped his eyes and sniffled, then nodded, his head still low. "Do you think...?" He nervously massaged his own bicep. "Can you take me to a meeting?"

"Yeah, of course. Do you know where they're gonna be having one or do you want me to look it up?"

"There's one in forty-five minutes in that little building behind the bank."

"Okay. Well, get dressed and we'll head over there. You want me to make you something to eat really quick?"

"Can you make breakfast burritos?"

"Sure. You want two?" With this confirmed, he stood and headed back into his own bedroom. "What'd they say?" he asked when he saw that his boyfriend wasn't on the phone.

"Thursday evening's the next visitation." He pulled on his sweatpants, then sat back down and picked up the clean shirt that was next to him.

"Well, shit. That's two days away."

"And they said you need to make sure Drake puts your name down or else you won't be able to visit. Ask him if he's done that when he calls."

Ricardo sat down on his side of the bed, his mind drifting off to thoughts about Drake being alone and unable to have face-to-face contact with his friends, who usually had to give him daily assurance that he was still liked and doing well and looking fine. No one would give him the emotional support he needed in there.

"There's a live chat thing you can do, though," Dee said. "That has more flexible hours. I think it's, like, ten dollars for a thirty-minute conversation. You just go to the website and schedule a visit and then Drake has to accept it." He grabbed a small piece of paper off his nightstand, then turned and handed it to his boyfriend. "I wrote down the website. You have to use Julio's laptop because it has a webcam." The man then leaned over and picked up his blue and lime green tennis shoes off the floor. He slipped one on and started on the strings.

"Thanks."

"How's your brother?"

"Not great. He's really worried about him."

After Dee finished getting dressed, he stood and Ricardo followed.

"I'm gonna make Julio something to eat and then I'm gonna take him to a meeting. You hungry? I can make you something before you go in to work."

"I'll probably get some yogurt."

They brushed their teeth together, then Ricardo slipped on some clothes. He met Dee in the kitchen as he was finishing getting his breakfast prepared. Ricky started on his brother's meal by gathering the ingredients: sausage patties, eggs, cheese and jalapeños.

"I forgot to tell you," Dee said from a bar-stool as he scooped his spoon into the vibrant, healthy vegan yogurt. "My parents invited us over for dinner this Friday. I said I'd be there, but that you might not be able to make it."

"I'll come," his significant other said.

"It's okay if you can't. I don't want you to leave Julio by himself. I'd invite him, but my dad drinks every weekend and I know your brother wouldn't want me to ask him not to because he doesn't want everyone to know."

"Yeah." He thought it over. "I guess we'll see what's going on when Friday comes. Maybe we'll have gotten that loan and Drake'll be here with him."

"Either way, don't stress about it," said Dee. "They know you're busy and all with having to run the bar."

The sound of Ricardo's basic ringtone music filled the room. In a flash, the man grabbed his cell phone off the counter. After a glance at the screen, he said, "It's Drake." He pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear. "Hey, how are you doing?"

At this time, Julio came down the stairs, wearing clean clothes and a resting frown. His head hung low and he moved sluggishly. He was sad and it showed on his outward appearance.

"Yeah, everything's good here. I'm gonna call the bank in a bit and see what we can do."

When Julio heard this, he looked at his brother and saw that he was on the phone. His eyes then moved to Dee. "Is that Drake?"

The man nodded as he swallowed down his bite of food. Julio took a seat next to him.

"It's really not a big deal. We can bail you out and, as long as you show up to court, we'll get the money back." Pause. "I'm not sure. I'll have to ask," he said. "What time?... Okay, I'll be there... I know. I want to. I'll take an early lunch. Did he tell you what you needed to do?... Yeah. What are you gonna say?... Good... Yeah." Ricardo stabbed into the sausage with a fork and flipped it. "We're gonna come Thursday for visitation... Why not?... Drake..." His voice took on a sadder tone. "You know we're not judging you. We know you're innocent. We just wanna come and support you — check up on how you're doing and maybe distract you for a little while."

Julio's knee bounced up and down as he waited for clarification on everything his brother was talking about. He hated waiting.

"Don't be embarrassed. I've been there, too. Remember? So has my brother," he said, "and we were actually guilty for our shit... You didn't do anything wrong." Pause. "Okay. Just make sure you put us down on your visitation list. Oh, and Dee talked to someone earlier and they said we can video chat from Julio's laptop. I don't know. I guess it's some new thing. They didn't have this when I was locked up... Oh. On a kiosk? So... Yeah... Yeah, I was gonna schedule a time for us. I'll see what's available later on today and then I think you just have to accept it some way." He let the other boy speak. "No, it's just gonna be us... No one's said anything to your mom... I'm not. Drake, I promise I'm not. It's just gonna be me and Julio. I swear. Ah!" he hissed suddenly. "Shit!" Ricardo examined the knuckle on his middle finger and saw that it was turning red. "No, I grazed the pan with my finger. I'm making breakfast for Julio. I'm about to take him to a meeting." Pause. "Well, he misses you. Here, why don't you ask him? I'll give him the phone."

Julio's ears perked up and his knee froze. He stood up, excited to get the chance to talk to his incarcerated friend.

"O-okay. Well... Are you...? Okay. Okay. Bye." Ricardo hung up the phone, then looked at his brother apologetically.

"He didn't wanna talk to me?"

"No. No, that's not it. He..." He felt bad when he saw Julio slump back in his seat. "He said he was feeling sick."

"That's a bullshit excuse."

Ricardo turned off the stove. "You know he didn't mean anything by it," he said as he wrapped the breakfast food in tortillas. He then carried the plate over to his little brother. "He just feels ashamed and embarrassed."

Julio said nothing more. Instead, he stood, leaving his food untouched, and walked out the front door. His brother sighed, then put the plate in the microwave for later.

"Was he actually sick?" Dee asked. He stood and took his empty bowl over to the sink, then turned on the faucet.

"I don't know. He said he was and I wouldn't doubt it because of how his nerves can affect him."

"Did he have any updates or anything?"

"Yeah, he said his arraignment is tomorrow. I told him I'd go, but he didn't really want me to. He didn't want me to visit either."

"Is he still gonna put you on his list?"

"He said he would."

Dee rinsed and dried his hands, then moved over to his boyfriend and gave him a kiss. "I'm sure he will if he said he would."

"Yeah. I guess we better get going."

Ricardo grabbed his things and the two men headed outside. They kissed again and said their goodbyes, then got into their separate vehicles.

"You got everything?" he asked his younger brother, but his question went ignored.

---

Julio opened the passenger's side door and immediately heard his brother sigh, then curse.

"Shit."

He got in his seat just as Ricardo answered his phone.

"Hello?... Hey, Ms. Nichols, how are you?... I'm doing okay... No, it's alright." There was a longer pause before he spoke again. "Yeah, he's just been super busy with work. They've been keeping him overtime almost everyday. The second he comes in, he goes straight to bed and sleeps until he has to get up for work again... It's just gonna take him time to get used to the routine again." Pause. "His phone broke... Yes, ma'am." Ricardo put the key in the ignition, but he didn't start the car. Instead, he absently traced the lines on the steering wheel with the tip of his finger. "No, no, he's still clean... Yes, ma'am... He hasn't relapsed. I promise. He's coming up on his two months in just a couple days... Of course. I understand... Okay... Yes, ma'am. I will... Bye."

Julio didn't need an explanation to understand what this phone call had been about. He looked at his brother. "You're not gonna be able to convince her of that for much longer. She'll probably ask to speak to him or show up one day demanding to see him. It doesn't make sense for him not to at least call her."

Ricardo knew that he was right, but he hated what that meant. He sighed.

"Someone's gonna have to tell her."

---

Ricardo stared impatiently at the blank screen. He's probably been staring at it for close to fifteen minutes now. The website had instructed him to log in early to test his connection. He sat at the dining room table in the kitchen. He had a cup of juice, his phone, a pen and a sheet of paper nearby just in case anything was needed. It took about another minute and a half or so before the screen came to life and an image of Drake popped up. The first thing he noticed was the fresh black eye he sported.

"Hey," Ricardo said a bit eagerly.

He saw Drake's hand reach out reluctantly, then pull back, now holding a black phone. He put it to his ear.

"Hey," the man repeated. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," came his friend's nervous, defeated voice.

He decided not to immediately interrogate him about his new injury. "How are you?"

"I'm okay."

Ricky watched his eyes move towards the bottom of the screen. He was checking their thirty-minute timer — probably already ready for it to be at zero. His head then lowered slightly as if he were too ashamed to make eye contact.

He couldn't wait any longer. He had to know. "What happened to your eye?"

The boy shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Is somebody messing with you?"

"No." Drake wasn't going to open up to him and he knew this.

Hoping good news would cheer him up, Ricardo said, "I called the bank earlier. They said to come in tomorrow and we can get the process for the loan started."

"You don't have to do that," Drake said guiltily.

He'd been warned. Everyone had told him that Dahlia was no good. They'd cautioned him on trusting her. Over and over again, they accused her of cheating and abuse, but Drake always made excuses for her. This was his own fault. He deserved this and he didn't want to burden anyone else for his own stupidity.

"Drake, it's okay," the man assured. "I want you here just as much as you wanna be here. Julio needs you here. Charlie needs you. We're gonna get you out."

"Thanks, Ricardo."

The name was like a stab through his heart. Since as far back as he could remember, his friend had always called him by what was — the man was sure of it — the worst nickname ever: Ricky. He spent years correcting him, but it only egged Drake on until the name finally stuck. He was the only one who could get away with calling him that. Almost a week ago, Ricardo had blown up on him, his voice so filled with fury and venom that it had frightened the boy enough to finally put the nickname to rest. He didn't mean it. He didn't mean a lot of what he'd said to him during that time. He'd blamed Drake for Julio's relapse, then he got pissed when his roommate had said he'd had his own things to worry about, too. They were reasonable things, like a job and a child. The man had just been so enraged that it'd made him irrational. He'd brought up the fact that he had sacrificed so much for the addict, only to have been failed when he had trusted him with something so serious as looking out for his brother — Drake's best friend. It had all come from a place of fear. When he'd heard about the relapse, he thought back to seeing Julio in that hospital bed. He'd remembered the horrific story about how his baby brother had almost died alone by choking on his own vomit. This terrified him more than anything else — more than embracing his sexuality, more than opening up about it to his loved ones, more than spending time in prison for nearly beating someone to death, more than leaving the church, more than being helpless when a priest he had trusted had taken advantage of his authority and touched him. He couldn't imagine life without his obnoxious, whiny asshole brother. In a moment of weakness, his fear had gotten the best of him and he'd unleashed his anger on Drake. Even when he'd heard him crying, Ricardo couldn't stop himself. He never got the chance to fully calm down before he learned that Julio had been hospitalized, so again, he marinated in his growing rage, just waiting until Drake got home from work the next day so that he could let him have it. In the process, he'd taken that nickname, which was really more than just a nickname to them, and he'd stomped all over it. The next time he saw him, he'd accused him of being crazy and then, after that, Drake was put in handcuffs and taken away.

"Hey," he said in a light-hearted manner, jokingly scolding his friend, "that's Ricky to you." He had a lot he needed to say to Drake, but now wasn't the time. He had to refrain from saying anything that would make the boy emotional because those people in there with him would slaughter him if they saw him cry.

However, Drake didn't really respond to his temporary apology. It's not because he was angry with Ricardo for saying such hurtful things. It was because the hurtful things he had said were true and it made him hate himself. He could feel the awkwardness due to his lack of a reply, so to change the subject, he asked, "Where's Julio?"

"He's in his room."

"He didn't wanna talk to me?" His voice expressed both hurt and understanding.

"No, he did," the oldest said. "He thought you didn't wanna talk to him."

"Why?"

"Because you hung up when I was about to hand him the phone."

"I'm sick. I told you that."

"That's what I told him. He didn't believe you." The man stood and picked up the laptop. "We'll go upstairs." He made his way to his brother's bedroom and stepped inside, then Julio looked at him with furrowed brows. He sat down on the bed next to him, forcing him to scoot over to make room, then he set the laptop in front of him.

"Hey, Julio," Drake said, his head lifted now.

The second he saw him, Julio's heart broke. His best friend sat in front of him, but was forced to speak to him through a screen. His eye was bruised. He wore bright orange scrubs, his top like a loose-fitting tee with a v-neck. Underneath, he wore a white, long-sleeved shirt that was visible only around his neck and his forearms. Behind him, Julio could see a couple tables, one just about full and the other with a few inmates seated but not paying any attention to one another. Most wore dark blue scrubs with a white, long-sleeved tee underneath, but there were a few who wore orange, like Drake, lime green, and there was even a hot pink one. Cells lined the wall that Julio could see. There was both a downstairs and an upstairs and the convicts roamed about in and out.

"Hey," Julio said back.

Drake could tell that he was looking behind him instead of at him and it embarrassed him, so he engaged him in conversation. "I didn't mean to blow you off earlier."

"It's okay if you didn't wanna talk to me," he said, his anger gone now that he was seeing the boy's current environment. "I know you don't want anyone thinking of you like that."

"No, I really was sick." He leaned forwards and then straightened again, now holding a miniature trash can. "I've been throwing up since I got here."

"Oh. Shit." Julio felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. "Your nerves?"

"I don't know. I think..." He set the can back down. "I've been having crazy migraines and nausea and stomach issues and I can't sleep. I think I'm going through withdrawals."

He was more talkative with Julio here, Ricardo noticed. It was probably because he didn't want his friend to worry about him. He was pretending to be okay for his "little bro's" sake, comforting him although he was the one who needed comforting.

"What about you?" Drake asked, massaging his aching head and squinting due to his current sensitivity to light. "Are you still...doing okay or...?"

Julio knew what he really meant. Are you still sober? "Yeah. Ricardo took me to a meeting this morning."

"How'd it go?"

"It was good."

The oldest spoke up. "Did you go to medical about your symptoms?"

"I talked to...someone, but they didn't—" He shrugged. "...do shit."

"They wouldn't give you Tylenol or anything?"

"They gave me a trash can."

Somehow, Julio found this to be funny and he let out a laugh. Drake, too, chuckled in response and it was the first smile that Ricardo could remember seeing from him in almost a week. The boy needed the distraction, so he laid off on the heavy questioning.

Drake's laugh died down and was followed up by a groan. "Ugh, I feel like shit," he said, stretching out his muscles. A small smile played on his lips as he said, "Julio, you're such a dumbass for getting addicted to something with withdrawal symptoms. Shit sucks."

Ricardo saw his brother grin.

"Fuck you. What do you know? You weren't even taking them for a week. Stop being a whiny bitch."

"Sorry. I guess I've been around you too long. Your whininess is starting to rub off on me."

"I know you did not just say that."

Drake cracked another small smile, then his eyes darted to the side as if he spotted sudden movement. A second later, there was another face next to him.

"Is this your family?" the newbie asked. He wore a light blue scrub and had a high-pitched, feminine voice. He was abnormally thin, with sharp cheek bones and a chiseled jaw line.

"Uh, yeah," Drake said.

The hyper young man smiled and waved. "Hi, fam!"

"Inmate!" came an authoritative, demanding voice. It was a prison guard, who stood nearby. "Where are you supposed to be?"

"Bye, fam," the boy said, then he bounced away as if the fact that he was locked away from the rest of society didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Who was that?" Ricardo asked.

"That's Kyle, the guy who was living with Tad."

It was strange to finally put a face to the name. They didn't know much about him except that he was a meth addict who Tad had replaced Drake with after Ricky forced the boy to leave him and get clean. This was the guy who had been the third part of the threesomes he'd had at his supplier's house. He and Kyle had fucked quite a few times and now they were locked away together.

"He's there, too?" the man said.

"Yeah."

"Is that a good thing or is it weird?" asked Julio.

"A little bit of both, I guess. It's nice to have someone to talk to, but..." He trailed off, then shrugged.

Ricky saw the way Kyle's hand had touched Drake's back and his friend's body language told him that he was uncomfortable. "I know there's history there, but you need to make sure he knows that it's not more than it actually is. He needs to know your boundaries."

Drake hung his head again. "I know."

"I'm serious. You don't want those other people seeing him getting close to you like that."

"I know."

"Do you two share a cell?"

"No."

Julio jumped in to change the subject because he could see how humiliated his best friend was. "Why is everyone wearing different colors?"

Drake combed his fingers through his bangs, then rubbed his aching forehead as if tired. "Um, they mean different things."

"What's orange mean?"

"That I'm new."

"Well, what's light blue?"

"It means he's gay," the young man answered.

Julio was baffled. "They make you wear a different color if you're gay? Isn't that dangerous?"

"I think it's so the guards know to keep a closer eye on him for his safety."

"That's still kind of unfair, right?"

Drake shrugged. "Rhinestone told me when he was arrested he had to stay in ad seg the entire time."

"What's that?"

"Solitary confinement, so he didn't get tv time or social interaction or anything."

"That's fucked up." Julio looked at his brother. "If you would've been out while you were in prison, you would've had to stay in solitary confinement the entire time?"

"When I was locked up, they kept the gay guys in protective custody, but that's also where they kept the child molesters and rapists and former gang members who were in danger of being killed, so they were in a section with some pretty violent criminals."

"What the fuck?" the young man said. "What kinda sense does that make?" He turned back to his friend. "Well, why does that one guy wear pink? Does that mean, like...?"

"Don't." Drake lowered his head and shook it, his voice suddenly nervous and quiet as if he didn't want the inmate in question to hear. "I'll tell you later."

Ricardo jumped in with a not-so-subtle topic change. "Have you been eating?"

Shrug.

"Drake..."

Still, he said nothing. The man sighed and let it go.

"Do you get to watch tv?" the youngest asked.

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Anything good?"

He shrugged again. "It's usually Cops or baseball or NASCAR or Wife Swap."

"Wife Swap?!" Julio was stunned.

"For the women," Ricardo answered. "Well, and the comedic relief. When I was there, everyone was obsessed with Survivor because the women wear so little."

"Oh," Julio said sadly as if he'd never before thought about the fact that men in prison had no access to vaginas. He started thinking about convicts who had lengthy sentences and would have to go so long without the intimacy of being with a woman, but stopped himself because he knew it would upset him and he didn't want Drake to see him sad. "Why do they like watching Cops? That's kinda...the exact opposite of what I would've expected. Do they root for the criminals?"

"No, actually. It's weird, but they get really into it," Drake said.

"How often can you watch tv?"

"Where I'm at, it's kinda chill. Like, right now, we have to be in our block, but then they'll announce when we can leave and when things are open. Like, yesterday, me and Kyle went to the day room because he wanted to get something from the vending machine, so as long as it's open and we're not on lockdown, then we can go."

"So you can go outside by yourself whenever you want as long as it's open?"

"Pretty much."

"Have you checked out the library yet?" Ricardo asked.

"Not yet. I've mainly just been staying in my cell so I can be near the toilet if I have to throw up."

The man knew that this was partly true, but he also knew Drake and he knew that this wasn't the only reason he didn't often join the crowd or explore the available space. Maybe that's what had led to his black eye in the first place. Maybe his quiet demeanor radiated with vulnerability and weakness and his fellow inmates knew they could take advantage of that. He decided to try for an explanation again.

"Are you gonna tell me how you got the black eye?"

"It's really nothing."

"Then why won't you tell me?"

"Because I don't want you to freak out about it," Drake said.

"Don't you think I'd be more calm about it if you would tell me? If it's not a big deal like you're saying, then just ease my worries."

He sighed. "It was just some asshole. He got here the same day I did. He thought he needed to prove himself to everyone, so he started a fight with me because he figured he could win."

"Did he?"

"Not really. I mean, I didn't hit him back, but the guards put a stop to it pretty fast and they put him in ad seg."

"Drake..." He hated to say it, but it was his friend's current reality right now. "You need to stand up for yourself in there. If you don't, you're gonna look like a punk ass."

"Maybe that's what I am."

"You're not," Ricardo said. "Look, you don't have to go around beating people up, but if someone comes up to you and starts pushing you around, you have to take a stand. If someone hits you, you hit back twice as hard."

"I'm not capable of that."

"That's bullshit. You're much stronger than you want to believe you are, but I know deep down you know it, too. I've seen it."

Without any hints or details, Drake somehow knew the specific incident that he was referencing. Years ago, Martin had beaten his son and he'd broken some of his bones, forcing the boy to go to the hospital. Ricardo wanted to get the police or Mrs. Nichols involved, but Drake made him swear he'd keep his secret and he promised he'd never go back to his father's house again. Months later, he went missing and that's exactly where the man found him. Drake was back on drugs and, when Ricardo grabbed the pills away from him, he'd lost it. He'd been so enraged that he put a pair of scissors to his friend's throat and threatened to kill him if he didn't return the cough medicine.

"That's not me," said Drake. He was ashamed of that part of himself. That was the Parker bloodline that he kept buried deep. Perhaps the reason that he was such an outwardly vulnerable person was because he took every piece of himself that resembled his father and he kept it locked away. Self-defense was a form of violence and, although he was aware that it was necessary sometimes, he didn't want to behave that way. He refused to be another Martin Parker. "That's not who I am."

Julio butted in before his brother could continue putting emphasis on how scary Drake's current reality was and how dangerous of a place he was in. "Look, let's just drop it, okay? We're gonna get that loan and then Drake'll be out in no time, so there's no use worrying about that stuff."

The group went quiet for a short moment, then Drake spoke, moving on to another topic. "Have you talked to my mom?"

"Yeah, she called earlier this morning," the man said.

"What'd you tell her?"

"I said you were having to work a lot of doubles and you go to sleep the second you get home."

The boy nodded to himself.

"Drake, that's not gonna cut it, though. What's it been? A week? You haven't called or answered calls or seen your daughter in almost a week. I think she needs to be told what's going on."

"No!" Drake responded quickly.

"She knows something's up. She thinks you've relapsed."

"Just let her think that," the inmate said.

Julio spoke, siding with his brother. "You really shouldn't make her worry about you like that. It's not fair."

"And you think this is any less worrying?"

"Well, yeah, because we're gonna get you out as soon as possible. If you let her think you're using again, she's gonna start obsessing about how you're doing and why you won't talk to her and whether or not you might be dead." Julio felt empathy for Mrs. Nichols. He knew what it was like to worry about Drake. "Don't do that to her, man."

Ricardo added, "Plus, if she thinks you're on drugs again, she probably won't let you see Charlie. That's gonna fuck things up when you get out."

"Your mom knows you would never assault anyone. She's not gonna believe it. Haven't you told her about Dahlia and what kind of person she is?"

"No." Drake sighed, now on the fence about what he should do.

"You should tell her," Julio said.

The young man hung his head in contemplation. He didn't want her to think he was dead in a ditch somewhere and he didn't want her to keep him from seeing his daughter. He sighed again. "I don't wanna talk to her while I'm in here."

"I can tell her," Ricardo offered.

He gave it some more thought. "Don't mention my arraignment tomorrow. I don't want her to come."

"I won't.

Drake felt nervous and embarrassed that his mother was going to find out where he was. He hoped she believed in his innocence, but he was a completely different person than the wild child teenager she knew him to be. Anything could've happened in those three and a half years they'd spent apart.

"Tell her I'm sorry," he said, feeling guilty for bringing his chaos back into her life without even having been reconnected for a full month yet, "and that she doesn't have to worry about me because I'm okay."

"I will."

Ricardo started to say more, but suddenly, he heard a loud, blaring sound coming from the laptop. It buzzed for a second, stopped, then buzzed again and it did this over and over. He quickly realized that it was a siren. The harshness of it gave Julio anxiety and it looked like Drake felt the same way.

"Shit!" the boy quietly cursed.

He dropped the phone and got on the floor, laying prone next to the kiosk so that all his friends could see was the loose-fitting orange pants swallowing the backs of his calves on down to his bright orange slip-on shoes. The rest of his body was off camera, but the Santos brothers imagined that he mirrored the other inmates that they could see in the background, who were laying on their stomachs with their hands on their heads. There was a lot of yelling from guards who were on full alert. Most convicts got on the floor like commanded, but there were a few stragglers who took their time as an attempt to feel like they still had some sort of control. The two brothers saw a strict-looking guard stomp past, stepping over Drake's feet as he swore at and threatened one of the disobedient jailers.

"Drake?" Julio asked worriedly, but he got no response. "What's happened?" he asked Ricardo.

The shrill alarms continued ringing. There were a lot of loud demands and curses being tossed around from guards while the inmates bitched and groaned and chatted, probably speculating what could've potentially been the reason for the alarms being set off. They never heard Drake's voice amongst these.

"It could mean that someone's trying to escape or that there's a fight in another block and they're turning on the sirens to get them to stop before a riot breaks out," the man said. "Or it could've just been an accident."

After the first couple minutes or so, everyone was on the ground, so the guards stopped yelling and just kept watch. Many more minutes went by before the sirens ceased. Still, the inmates didn't move until instructed to by one of the guards. Everyone started to get back onto their feet and go back to what they had been doing before this disturbance. The two brothers saw Drake again when he stood. He pulled the wire and lifted the dangling phone up, but he didn't put it to his ear. Instead, he put it back on the handle.

"Drake?" Ricardo tried even though he knew the boy couldn't hear him. He could tell that his friend was humiliated and ashamed by what had happened and it even looked as though his eyes had watered over. He noticed that Drake was no longer looking at them, but instead had his eyes over towards one side of the screen. Ricardo realized he was trying to figure out how to end the call. "Wait. Hang on—"

Before he could finish, the screen went black.

"Why did he do that?" Julio asked. "We still had, like, eight minutes left."

"I think he was embarrassed and it upset him."

"He didn't even say bye or anything."

"You know Drake. He cries easily and he probably knew he'd break down if he tried to talk." He wrapped an arm around his brother. "He'll be alright. Whatever it was, it wasn't happening anywhere around him."

Julio hated that his friend had to be alone through this right now. He wished that he could be there with him, but that would probably actually make Drake feel even more vulnerable. "We have to get this loan and get him out of there."

"I know. We will," his older brother said, squeezing him tighter to give him comfort. "We will."

---

Ricardo glanced at the the screen on the dashboard of his car and saw Dee's name. He pressed the green button on the steering wheel and turned the volume up. "Hey, cutie," he said flirtatiously.

Dee's voice came through the radio. "Hey. You left yet?"

"Yeah, I'm in the car now. I just dropped Julio off at his meeting."

"How'd it go with Drake?"

"He wouldn't really look at me, but they pretty much just told him what his charges were and asked for his plea."

"He said 'not guilty,' right?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe the bank won't be too much longer with that loan."

"I hope not."

"Are you waiting outside the meeting?"

"No, I'm gonna swing by and pick him up in about an hour. I'm on my way to Ms. Nichols' house right now."

"You gonna tell her?"

"Yeah."

"Think she'll freak?" Dee asked.

"I don't know. I hope not."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's just awkward because I lied to her about it yesterday when she called. I told her he was working doubles. Plus, I don't know what Drake's told her about Dahlia, if anything. This is gonna be a lot."

"Do you know what you're gonna say?"

"Not really. I don't wanna say too much, but I guess I'll just see how the conversation goes and see what feels right."

"Alright. Well, if things end up taking longer over there then expected, just call me and I'll pick up Julio."

"Thanks, babe," his boyfriend said. "And thanks for hanging out with him today while I'm at work. I really appreciate it. You're the best."

"You just better keep a close eye on him tonight because he's gonna be super devastated and upset when I kick his ass in MarioKart."

This made Ricardo laugh. "You think you can handle playing video games with my brother? He's insanely competitive and I hear him raging at the tv all the time."

"Oh, so a Santos who might actually give me a challenge?" Dee said it almost flirtatiously.

"Fuck you." But he was grinning and his partner chuckled, too. "Alright, I'm pulling up at her house now. Lemme let you go."

The man could hear the nervousness in Ricardo's voice. "You got this. Ms. Nichols is super nice. I don't think she'll hold a grudge because you weren't truthful. She'll understand why you did it."

Ricardo took a breath, then sighed to ease his nerves. "Thanks."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

After their phone call ended, he took another preparation breath, then he got out of his car. Ms. Nichols car was in front of his in the driveway. It was different than the old, run-down truck that used to be parked here all the time. Now that truck sat unused around the back of the trailer and it probably didn't even crank anymore.

Ricardo ascended the porch steps and knocked on the door. He thought about going over in his head some of the things he wanted to make sure he said and didn't say, but within a few short moments, the door opened. When Audrey saw him, she greeted him with a warm smile.

"Oh, Ricardo, what brings you here?" The second she asked that, her eyes scanned the yard for a straggling Drake, but she didn't see him. She was immediately overcome with worry and her voice shook. "Oh God, what happened? He's relapsed, hasn't he? Did something happen? Please tell me he didn't overdose again."

With those words, Ricardo noticed Megan approach, listening from afar.

"No, no, he's alright," the man assured and he could see her muscles relax as she let go of the breath she'd been holding, "but I do need to talk to you about something privately," he said.

"Yes, of course." She opened the door wider and motioned for him to enter. "Come on in. We'll sit at the kitchen table. Can I get you some coffee? Or maybe a soda?"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

Audrey followed him over to the table. "Megan, give us some time alone, would you, sweetie?"

The young lady left them and went back to her room, where Kenzly was sitting cross-legged on her bed and leaning her back against the wall. She had a bowl of popcorn in her lap and Zombieland was paused on the television.

Megan sat down next to her. "Ricardo's here." Her words were quiet because she didn't want anyone to hear that she was gossiping and because Charlie was fast asleep.

"With Drake?"

"No. It's just him. He said he wanted to talk to my mom in private."

Kenzly furrowed her brows and looked over at the girl, who seemed worried. "What do you think?"

"Well, he said he didn't relapse, so it's not that," said Megan, "but something's going on. It doesn't make sense for him not to call or show up for a week, especially not when he was coming over just about everyday." She paused, then said, "I'm gonna eavesdrop." She got up and left the room again, but this time, she wasn't going for a bathroom break. She tiptoed quietly down the hall until she came to a corner. She stood behind it and focused on keeping her breathing as quiet as possible.

"Oh, my poor baby," she heard her mother say. "How many days ago was this?"

"Two. He didn't want me to tell you, but I told him you were really worried about him. We thought we'd be able to bail him out that same day, but it's gonna cost a lot more than we thought, so he's had to stay in there."

Bail? My brother's in jail?

"How much?" Audrey asked, wishing someone would've told her sooner. She hated that her son was stuck in a place like that.

"It's ten thousand dollars."

Megan's brows lifted with surprise.

"Oh my..." Audrey thought for a moment. "What about going through a bondsman? Don't you only have to pay a small percentage? I can scrape up some money—"

"That is after going through a bondsman," Ricardo said. "His bail was set at a hundred grand."

"What?! Oh my goodness! What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything. Someone made a false accusation against him — a rape accusation."

Megan felt herself getting angry.

"Who would do such a thing?!" Ms. Nichols asked.

"Has Drake ever mentioned Dahlia to you? Or Clementine? That's her first name. He calls her Clem."

The mother shook her head after some thought. "No. No, he hasn't mentioned her. Is that who did this?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Who is she?"

"She's his ex. They were together for a long time. A little over a year," Ricardo said. "Dahlia's the worst person I have ever met. She constantly judged him, put him down, made him feel insecure, manipulated him, yelled at him. She even hit him. A lot of times, he came home with scratches or bruises, but no matter how many times people tried to intervene, he wouldn't leave her and he always made excuses for her. He was head-over-heels in love with her. He even proposed to her and they were engaged for a while, then they had a really nasty break-up. He finally mustered up the courage to leave after finding out that she had been cheating on him from the beginning, and Drake standing up for himself infuriated her. She's been harassing him ever since, but he's been staying strong and ignoring her, so now she's doing this."

"That's insane."

Audrey had no other words. There was so much to unpack just by what little information she had just been given. The first thing that her mind focused on was the fact that this girl had hit her son. She immediately wanted to jump into protective mommy mode and chew out whoever had hurt him like she would've done when he was a little kid, but she knew she couldn't do that anymore, nor would Drake want her to. Despite all that he'd been through, he still found himself a victim of abuse no matter where he went. After years of torment from his cruel father, he found someone to replace him with rather than understand his own worth. If only she had been there to show him instead of abandoning him just like everyone else did.

The second thing Ricardo said that had shocked her was that her son had proposed. Drake had never been the type to stick with one girl for long. The longest she had ever seen him with someone was with Meelah and that lasted about a year. He'd dated this Dahlia girl for a similar length of time. That's such a short amount of time to propose — to decide he wanted to commit himself fully to someone for the rest of his life. In fact, Audrey never expected her son to be the type to settle down — not for a long, long while. He used to bounce from girl to girl like he never shared a shred of feelings towards them and she always suspected that maybe he had shut himself off to avoid heartbreak, fearing that what had happened to his mother would happen to him — or even that he would follow in his father's footsteps and cheat on someone he loved, too.

"She is absolutely insane," Ricardo continued. "She's done so many awful things to him. Drake's extremely sensitive and she took advantage of that. She started doing little things to manipulate him and then she gradually built up to even crazier things because she wanted full control. She would even pick out his clothes and tell him what he could and couldn't eat and, if he didn't listen, she'd tell him it looked like a five-year-old dressed him and that he looked fat. She'd say things about him in front of me and my brother to embarrass him."

Ricardo remembered one incident the most, which he didn't vocalize to Audrey. Clementine was mad at Drake over some trivial bullshit, so she punished him by withholding sex. She still made him get her off either orally or with his fingers, but he wasn't allowed that same release and she tried to stop him from masturbating as much as she could by keeping an extremely close eye on him when he was at her house or by using guilt tactics when he wasn't. It was close to two months when she finally let him off restriction. The first time they started back having sex, he made it two pumps — a whopping one and a half seconds — before he ejaculated. This gave her quite a laugh, which humiliated him, and he was even more ashamed when she brought it up to the whole Santos house one night.

They had been having a game night. Drake had brought Clem, Julio had brought some girl he'd just started seeing and this was their second date, and Ricardo had brought some woman who was genuinely kind and attractive and everything he wanted in a partner...if she would've had a penis. This was back when he was still lying to himself about who he was. For whatever reason, the topic of sex came up. He couldn't remember if it was because of the game they were playing or because Dahlia had just brought it up. With Drake's "mishap" still being quite recent, she thought it was a good idea to call him out in front of everyone. He was horrified. His face went bright red in a matter of seconds. Everyone felt awkward, even the other two women who had been invited. Clementine laughed and, not knowing what else to do, the other girls followed along. They'd hoped that this would bring the awkward topic to a close, but instead, it had egged the awful girlfriend on. She continued publicly teasing Drake until Julio finally spoke up, taking some of the heat off of his best friend. "Bro, you, too? I thought I was the only one. I've done that before — more times than I'm willing to admit actually." It was a lie, but he couldn't let his bro suffer alone. He was embarrassed, too, especially when Dahlia started cracking jokes about him. Julio never got that third date. Later that night when Drake confronted his girlfriend in private, she got defensive and angry until he apologized. Over the next few months, she called him her "One Second Wonder" and other degrading nicknames.

"Why would he stay with someone like that?" Despite asking, she knew the answer already. It's because her poor son didn't think he deserved anything better.

"She dug her claws in deep. She knew how he felt about her and she used that against him. There was a time when she convinced him to turn against me and my brother. He moved out and wouldn't talk to us or anything. She made a fake Facebook account under my name and pretended to be me and she messaged him from it. She used that to keep him away from us and to manipulate him into doing things. After he caught her cheating, he left her, but because of her messages, he thought I hated him and wanted him dead, so he didn't come home either." He decided it was best to skip over the part about Drake drunkenly trying to seduce his boyfriend. "I know Drake's told you about his suicide attempts. This is when the last one happened. She told him to kill himself and then she immediately followed it up by saying the same thing from the fake account. So that's what he did — what he tried to do."

Megan had heard enough. She quietly crept back into the bedroom and found Kenzly scrolling through her phone. When she heard the door open, the blonde lifted her head. Her roommate's expression was concerning.

"What's wrong?" she questioned.

"Drake's in jail," she whispered.

"What?" She waited for Megan to take her original seat next to her, then she asked, "What happened?"

"His ex accused him of raping her."

"What?!"

"And the bail's ten thousand dollars, and that's after going through a bondsman, so they can't get him out."

"Oh my god." She was flabbergasted and she had so many different things running around in her head. "Did Ricardo say who she was?"

"I think her name was Dahlia."

Kenzly groaned. "That bitch!"

"You know her?"

"Yeah, she's the worst. I fucking hated her. She was so rude and abusive."

"And he tried to kill himself because of her a while ago. And they were engaged."

It was a lot to take in and both had a lot of different emotions cycling through them. Kenzly always knew how toxic Clementine was, but she still never expected her to be this fucking heartless. Maybe if she wouldn't have left when Drake told her to, things would've been different. Or maybe she would've just made things worse for him. Either way, she hated that she wasn't there.

"Well, I mean," the younger one started, "he didn't do it. He wouldn't do it. They'll have to drop the case, right? If there's no evidence?"

"I think so. We'll talk to your mom after Ricardo leaves. She'll fill us in and tell us what's going on."

---

Ricardo glanced at the screen on his dashboard when his phone started ringing and he saw the name of the jail Drake was in pop up. He looked over at Julio, who was already watching him, eagerly waiting for him to answer the call. "Don't mention what happened yesterday with the sirens unless he brings it up, okay?"

His brother nodded, then watched Ricardo press a button on the steering wheel. He accepted the charges and they were put through to their incarcerated friend.

"Hey," Ricardo said and Julio repeated him to make his presence known.

"Hey," Drake said warily. "Is it...is it just you two?"

"Yeah, we're in the car. I just picked Julio up from a meeting," the oldest replied.

"Oh. How'd that go?"

"It was good," Julio brushed off. "How are you doing?"

"Better. I haven't thrown up today."

"That's good," Ricardo said. He got right to the point because Drake only had a short amount of time that he could be on the phone. "I talked to your mom this morning."

"You told her?"

The two boys could hear the sound of muffled chatter growing louder in the background and it became obvious that some of Drake's fellow inmates were playing cards. There was a bit of laughter before they were quieted by a guard.

"Yeah," Ricardo said.

"How'd she take it?"

"She just wants you out of there as soon as possible. She knows you didn't do it."

"Did you tell her I'm okay?"

"I did. I told her you were fine and that you said not to worry."

"How's Charlie?"

"She was napping while I was there, but your mom said she's doing alright. She just misses you and she's a little confused, but they told her you had to go on a trip."

In the background, the Santos brothers heard a guard yelling from afar. "You have five minutes until count, inmates!"

Drake sighed, his heart aching as he thought about the sense of abandonment his daughter must be feeling. He missed her so much and he hoped she wouldn't hate him whenever she got to see him again. "God, this sucks," he said, gradually getting more and more upset.

"I know," the man said sympathetically. "It won't be much longer."

"She's gonna think..." His eyes watered over and he could feel a lump rising in his throat. "Fuck," he whispered to himself and he sniffled.

Ricardo didn't want him to cry in that place in front of all those people. He wracked his brain for some sort of comforting news. "You're gonna be out before you know it," he said. "I'm gonna call and check on the loan. You should be home within the next few days." He heard his friend let go of a shaky breath as an attempt to calm himself before he broke.

Julio spoke up, desperate to cheer the young man up. "If it'll help, I can record a message for Charlie and send it to your mom."

"Um..." Another sniffle. "Yeah."

"Okay. Hold on." He pulled out his cell phone and fiddled around with it shortly, then said, "Okay. Whenever you're ready."

A few seconds passed in silence before Drake spoke, his voice more upbeat, although it still carried that sad tone, and he clearly felt awkward. "Hey, Charlie — no, hold on." He sniffled and cleared his throat. "Hey, Charlie," he tried again. Better. "Okay, I'm ready."

---

"Don't forget your ID," Ricardo said as he got out of the car.

Julio followed him and looked up at the menacing building in front of them. He'd been here about two months before. Most of that time was blurry, but he definitely remembered what it felt like when he walked outside those doors. The sun had been warm and the sky bright. He'd been craving a drink to offset the oncoming sickness. Drake had bailed him out. He wished he was here to return the favor. Instead, he and his brother were just coming in for visitation. The last time he'd visited with someone behind bars was when Ricardo was in prison. That felt like forever ago now, but in reality, it was just twelve or so years ago. He was gone for five years — Julio didn't have a brother for five years — and when he got back, he was a completely different person. He was reading books, helping their mother with dishes, working construction, taking classes at the community college, taking his little bro and sometimes Drake out for ice cream and a smoke. It was a huge change. Before prison, Ricardo was getting into a lot of loud, vicious arguments with their mom, slamming doors, staying gone for days — sometimes weeks — at a time, using and selling drugs, and showing up with things he had stolen, like televisions or bikes or, once, even a whole ass car.

His eyes moved over to Ricardo. Sometimes, Julio wondered what he would've been like had he not been locked up. Had he continued down the path he was on, he could've killed someone or been killed or developed an addiction problem like Drake. He could've been someone different or just...dead. Instead, he became a better person. There was a time when he and Drake and Rhett were younger. They would do dumb shit with their friends like break into houses while the families were gone to work or on vacation and they would just chill and raid the liquor cabinet or have a little party. Other times, they would steal things from those houses or stores or wherever they were. This didn't go on for long. The second Ricardo had caught wind of this by one of his own friends who had seen the teenage boys, he marched down to the skate park and embarrassed the shit out of both of them. He took both Julio and Drake back to the Santos house and continued scolding them. They tried to come up with excuses, then complained about the man not getting their other friends in trouble. Both of them were so scared of Ricardo, though, that they never did it again. After two weeks of being teased and ridiculed by their friends for being pussies, Rhett and some of the other guys ended up getting caught. Police were called and they got in serious trouble, so in the end, Julio and Drake got the last laugh.

Had Ricardo not gotten arrested, maybe Julio would've done the same shit he'd done. He was definitely getting there with the thievery and the breaking-and-entering. He'd always looked up to his older brother and thought everything he'd done was cool. He'd wanted to be just like that, then he got sentenced to five years for nearly beating someone to death and that had hurt. Not only would Ricardo have been a different person had he not gone to prison. Julio would've been a different person, and Drake, too. Drake probably wouldn't even be alive.

"You alright?" Ricardo said with concern when he caught him staring at him.

"Yeah." Julio averted his eyes.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Are you getting anxious?" he asked, wondering if being back here after his DUI arrest was triggering.

"No, I'm good."

"Alright," he said, his brows furrowed. He reached out and shoved Julio's head. "Well, stop being weird."

The young man stumbled, then slapped his hand away with a laugh and his brother smiled back. "Prick."

Ricardo reached the door first, so he held it open for Julio, then followed him inside. They approached the reception area, where an older, not-so-friendly looking lady with dark skin and short hair sat behind a computer and bulletproof glass.

"Hi," Ricardo greeted.

Julio noticed that his voice was a tad bit higher-pitched than normal, which was rare for his big bro, but when he talked like that, it was because he was trying to overcompensate. He both respected and had issues with law enforcement at the same time, so he was trying to sound kind and not bitter or disgusted, which is what caused this weird voice change.

"We're here for visitation."

"Name?"

It was strange for Julio to hear his brother with little confidence. "Um, our name or—"

"The inmate's name."

"Drake Parker."

"It'd be under Jared, though, right?" Julio whispered to him. He was also feeling rather intimidated.

"Oh, yeah. Jared Parker," the man corrected with an awkward, apologetic chuckle. "Sorry."

The employee wasn't amused. She typed some more on the keyboard while the two brothers waited uncomfortably. After a moment, she said, "Jared Parker isn't available for visitation."

"I'm sorry?"

"His visitation rights have been revoked temporarily."

He heard the door open behind him and saw an older woman on her way to stand in line after them. He turned back to the worker. "Wh..." His eyebrows scrunched up. "Um...how can that be?"

"It says here he's been moved to administrative segregation."

Julio looked at his brother with surprised because he'd just learned what that word meant the day before. "Solitary confinement?"

"What did he do?" Ricardo asked the lady.

"I'm not allowed to share that information."

"Can he still make phone calls?" Julio asked.

"Not in segregation," she said.

"Is there any way we can get in touch with him?"

"He can still write letters. It's either that or you'll have to wait until he calls you to let you know he's been moved back into the general population."

He stood there for a moment, unsure what to say, but he knew that the lady in front of him was growing impatient and the lady behind them was waiting to visit her own loved one. "Okay. Thank you." He turned to his brother. "Come on."

Julio followed him questioningly. When they got further away, he asked, "What are we gonna do?"

Ricardo opened the door. "We'll have to wait until he writes."

"Why is he in solitary confinement?"

"I don't know."

"You don't think he got in a fight, do you? You told him to stand up for himself."

"Do you think he actually would've done that, though?"

"Not really," Julio said, "but I don't know what else it could be." He got in the car and his brother followed. He tried to think about things with positivity. "Maybe he'll like it better there? Now that he doesn't have to be around all those other men?"

"I don't think so. It's awful in there."

"You've been?"

"Once. I was there for a few days for talking back to one of the guards because he was an asshole. You get a room to yourself, but there's no one to talk to, no window to look out, no cards or tv or people to pass the time. The minutes go by so slowly. Plus, Drake's claustrophobic and he gets flashbacks of his dad locking him in the closet and the basement."

"Do you think he'll just be in there for a couple days?" Julio asked.

"I have no idea. Probably. There's no way he did anything bad enough to get more than that. It's Drake."

---

Eleven days passed before the Santos brothers received a letter from their missing link. Julio had been waiting on the porch for the mailman to drive by, just like he'd been doing everyday since he learned his best friend had been moved to "the hole." He flipped through the envelopes — bills, bills, junk, bills — and then he saw it: Drake's handwriting. He hurried inside and went straight upstairs to Ricardo's room, dropping the other envelopes uncaringly on the little table in the foyer. He entered without knocking, catching his brother just as he buttoned his jeans. Dee stepped out of the master bathroom at that time, wearing only his boxers. He skipped a step when he saw his boyfriend's younger brother, but he went over to the dresser and grabbed a change of clothes. Both were shiny and damp, having just gotten out of the shower.

"Bro, can't you knock?" Ricardo said, grabbing a shirt out of the closet and slipping it over his head.

Julio took no notice of any of his surroundings and approached him while holding up the envelope. "It's from Drake."

The homeowner's focus changed and he was no longer concerned about the boy barging in. "Have you read it yet?"

"No, not yet."

He flipped it over and ripped open the flap, then he pulled out a piece of paper. As he began unfolding it, Ricardo moved over to his side so that he could read over his shoulder.

"Hey," Julio read aloud. "You're probally wandering why I havn't called. They moved me to adseg the other day and I'm not allowed to make phone calls or do that webcam thing or anything in here. The day after I last called, I went in for a shower and had a panic attack. I don't really remember what happened. I think I hit some of the guards. I kinda blacked out during that whole thing."

Dee saw the sadness and worry on his partner's face and his heart ached for him. He was extremely sympathetic about Drake's situation as well, but seeing Ricardo hurt always left him with an uncomfortable pain in his chest.

"It took me a few days to write because I didn't think I'd be in here for more than a day or two and I was just gonna call and explain after, but their not telling me how long I'm gonna be here. It's not that bad anyway. It's better than being around a bunch of people, so you don't have to worry about me."

Ricardo didn't believe him and he felt like his friend was just saying these things so that his new living situation didn't upset anyone.

"I miss you guys so much and I really miss your cooking. Even Julio's. Asshole," the boy said and his brother chuckled. "I know I always complain because we eat Mexican food like every other night at least, but I swear I will never complain about tacos again after this. I think I'm having withdrawls. Anyway, lemme stop thinking about food. I just wanted to let you guys know I'm ok. Oh and also, do you have any more updates on that loan? Do you think maybe you can check and then write me back please?"

These words confirmed for Ricardo that he wasn't as okay as he was letting on. Drake never even wanted him to have to take out a loan in the first place and now he was rushing him to get it, desperate for just a little bit of hope.

"Also, I have a preliminary hearing next week on sep 13th."

"Shit. That's in two days," Dee realized.

"Their just gonna go over evidense and stuff and he talked about putting in a motion or whatever its called to lower my bail, so maybe that will help out. Anyway they just gave me this 1 lil peice of paper, so can't say much more. Tell mom I love her megs + C + K + cats. I love & miss u guys. Hope all is well and AA is helpi. I guess he meant helping, but he couldn't fit all the letters."

Dee's eyes moved from the reader to Ricardo and they both looked at each other knowingly. The question was, did Julio know that Drake was lying? And if not, should someone tell him?

Their question was answered when the boy said, "Well, at least he said it's better in there, right?" He lifted his head. "What's a preliminary hearing?"

"It's where they go over the evidence and decide if the case is going to trial and what evidence can be used."

"Is there a date on there saying when the letter was sent?" Dee asked.

Ricky took the envelope from his brother and scanned over it. "The seventh."

"It took four days to send?" the youngest said.

"Probably longer," Dee replied as his partner took the letter. "That's just when the post office got it. He said it took him a few days before he decided to write, then don't jails go through the mail? It probably got stuck there for a while until whatever day they send out the mail. He probably wrote it a week and a half ago."

Ricardo was reading over the letter a second and third time, trying to gauge his friend's true feelings. Something still didn't feel right in his gut. Drake wasn't being honest, or at least, not completely.

---

"Fifth one," Drake's attorney said, then he turned to the worker who was next to him. "I'll be back soon."

"You've got five minutes," the guard told Ricardo.

Ricky made his way down the bleak hallway, which had empty holding cells lining the right wall. He passed by four that were open. The fifth one was locked and, inside, a slumped form rested on the edge of the cot. It was Drake. He was hunched over with his trembling fingers holding up his head. The bright orange jumpsuit was a shock to the eyes when compared to the rest of the surrounding dreary colors.

"Drake?"

His head lifted and turned and, when he saw the man, his eyes lit up. He was on his feet in an instant. "Ricardo?!" He moved closer to the door.

"Hey, Drake," he said sadly. He hated the sight of his best friend behind bars.

"How did you get back here?"

"I talked to your attorney and he said I could come in for a few minutes. I'm not gonna be able to stay long. How are you?"

"Not good," the boy said and his eyes watered over. "Why didn't you write back?"

"I did, but we just got your letter two days ago." He frowned sympathetically when he saw him trying to hold back his tears.

"Did you get the loan?"

"They approved six thousand, so we're still short. Your mom and I are trying to scrape some money up. We're really close. We're just hoping the judge lowers your bail today."

"If the bail hearing happens and goes well, can you go to Tad's house and—"

"Tad? As in that fucking—"

"He said he'd give me two grand—"

"And what did he want you to give him in return?"

This shut Drake up and he averted his wet eyes.

"When did you even talk to him?"

"The other day when I met with my attorney. He let me have a phone call."

"And you decided to call Tad?" He couldn't hide his anger.

The boy was too fragile right now to handle his best friend being mad at him. He met his eyes. "I just wanna come home, Ricardo."

Ricardo's heart broke when he saw the fear in his eyes. He was silent for a moment, then his voice came out softer. "I know, but we don't need him or his money. We're gonna get you out. I promise."

"Three minutes," the guard at the end of the hall called.

Panic set in and Drake spoke on a shaky voice. "Ricardo—" He sniffled. "—it's bad."

"What's bad?"

"It's really, really bad."

"What's bad?" he asked with worry. "What are you talking about, Drake?"

"They've got evidence against me."

"What do you mean? What kind of evidence?"

He spoke quieter as if it was top secret information. "They've got my DNA."

"What do you mean?" Ricardo asked again.

"They found traces of my fucking jizz inside her." He couldn't hold back his tears anymore.

"You..." He furrowed his brows. "You told me you didn't... I asked if you slept with her and you said no." This news was making him panic as well.

"I didn't — I don't know. I-I've been having these flashbacks. I think—" His shaking picked up. "I don't know. I'm so confused."

"Drake, did you sleep with her?" the man asked, his heart pounding inside of his chest.

His voice cracked when he said, "...I think I did."

"What do you mean you think?" he asked a bit more aggressively than he should have.

"I don't know. It's all so cloudy. I think she broke in when you were all at the hospital. I remember — Ricky, it's so bad. There are pictures — bruises an-and blood..." His crying made him stutter. "I don't know what I did. I don't know what I did."

"Hijo de puta!"

"My attorney said they offered a deal. A two year prison sentence and—"

"What?!"

"He said I should take it. I said I would. We're changing my plea today."

"What?!" was all Ricardo seemed to be able to say.

"I'm so scared," Drake choked. "I don't know what I did."

"Look at me, Drake. You didn't do shit. Do you hear me? You don't have it in you. When you were on those pills, you could hardly walk or hold a conversation. There's absolutely no way you could overpower someone like that. Dahlia drugged you for a reason. This was her plan all along. This was her way of getting back at you. She drugged you. She turned us against you. She convinced us that you were fucked up on meth. She got us out of the house, then she raped you. She raped you. Not the other way around. She's trying to ruin your life because she can't stand the fact that you were doing great without her."

"They're ready for him," a new guard said and he started making his way down the hall, along with the one who had been watching them.

"I'm so fucked," Drake said fearfully.

"You tell them you don't want to take that deal anymore."

"If I don't, I'm gonna get ten years. Ricardo, I can't fucking do that. Charlie will be thirteen. I'll be in my thirties." His tears fell freely. "I'm so fucking scared."

"Don't take that fucking deal. Do you hear me? Do not. Take. That fucking. Deal."

"Please don't be mad—"

"Drake, I fucking swear—"

"Alright," the guard interrupted, "you know the drill. I need you to hold out your hands."

The young man gulped nervously. He quickly tried to dry his eyes and then wipe his hands off on his bright orange pants. He sniffled as he stuck his trembling hands through the slot in the bars. Cuffs were placed around his wrists and they clicked as they locked.

"Get against the back wall."

He followed orders. Moments later, the door slid open. The two guards approached him and began giving him instructions. Ricardo watched as they prepped him for court. They wrapped a belly chain around him, then secured the cuffs to it so that he couldn't move his arms around much.

"Get on your knees for us."

One guided Drake to the bed and helped him onto the mattress. Ricardo heard him sniffle again as a leg iron was tightened around his ankles.

"Is all that really necessary?" the visitor asked.

One of the men answered. "It is when you're coming from solitary confinement after having an altercation involving a prison employee." Then: "Back on your feet."

They had one last chain. This one connected the upper one to the lower one, further minimizing Drake's mobility by making it impossible for him to lift his arms.

"Okay. Come on."

They led him out of the cell slowly so that he wouldn't get tripped up and they started down the hall—

"Drake?"

The guards stopped to allow them to bring their conversation to a close. The boy looked at him, expecting another wave of anger from him.

Instead, Ricardo said, "I love you."

Drake's eyes got even more watery and fresh tears fell. He tried to speak normally, but it was as if he lost his voice, so it came out on a choked whisper. "I love you."

---

Author's Note: I so did not mean for this update to take so long. I put it off for a while, then when I finally went in to update it, my laptop broke, so I had to wait until I was able to get a new one. I think it's been about six months since my last chapter, so if anyone is still reading this, I love you.

Thanks to the person that just reviewed last week. You pushed me to get through the editing process the second I got my laptop in the mail. To the other person who reviewed my last chapter, you really predicted that Clem was about to come in like a wrecking ball, didn't you?

Thanks to all the people taking time to read this. Please drop a review and let me know your thoughts, predictions, complaints, etc. Hope you're staying safe, practicing social distancing, wearing your mask and washing your hands. Until next time. CCC ya!

Songs Used:

Hellraiser: Bonehead — (the song Drake used to stay awake after falling asleep at the wheel)