“Fine.” She smokes half the cigarette while glaring into the fire before finally turning back to me. “His name is Kyle. We were a thing for a while.”
I continue to eye her.
“I suppose I should start at the beginning or some such shit.”
“That would be helpful.”
Iris flicks ash toward the fireplace, crosses her legs, and looks at me.
“I was diagnosed with ODD as a kid,” she says.
“What’s that?”
“Oppositional Defiance Disorder.” She lets out a long laugh. “Basically, it’s a diagnosis given any time a kid questions the word of an adult. I mean really, how fucking dare they, right?”
“So you were a brat.”
“Essentially.” She grins, and her eyes sparkle. “I liked arguing with my father. It was fun. He eventually figured out I just did it to get a rise out of him, and he stopped responding. I needed a better response. So, drinking first, then drugs, then boys—preferably boys with lots of tattoos or piercings. You know, the dangerous-looking ones. I’d sneak them into my room in the hope of getting caught.”
“Teen rebel.”
“Fucking right, I was!”
“You wanted the attention.”
“Attention.” She repeats the word as she gazes up at the ceiling in contemplation. “Yes and no. My parents accused me of using drugs before I ever touched the shit. I told them I didn’t do that stuff, but they didn’t believe me. They started monitoring my every movement. I figured if I was already paying the price, I might as well get something out of it.”
“That’s kinda fucked up.”
“Is it?” She tilts her head as she looks at me. “I never did much, other than smoke weed, even in the end. It was a boy that ended up being the problem. The thing is, most of the pierced and tattooed boys were just teddy bears inside. I got used to that. When I found an older guy—one I knew dad would hate—I figured he would be the same.”
“But he wasn’t.”
“Kyle is an asshole,” Iris says. “That’s the easiest way to put it.”
“How so?” I don’t recall any tattoos on the guy I met in Whatì, but they were probably covered up.
“You know what? I bet he and your dear daddy would have been great friends, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do.” A shiver runs through me.
“I’ll spare you the boring, ‘it all started out great’ details and get to the important shit. Back then, I knew everything. When I met Kyle, I was sure he was the best shit that was ever going to come along in my life. He was also a dealer. I knew that going in and even did a few side deals for him, but it wasn’t until later that I figured out just how far into it he was. He wasn’t very high up the ladder, but he did have some pretty direct involvement with a drug cartel. When things got nasty, I knew I had to get out.
“I wasn’t about to ask Dad for help. I was too proud for that, you know? I wasn’t going to admit I’d fucked up. I also knew they’d assume I was doing the same shit he was selling—meth and heroin—but I wasn’t. The only way to get out was to get money, and I didn’t have any. Kyle did, though. He had a lot of it, but he was stingy about dishing it out and careful about where he hid it. I decided to go for the next best
thing.”
“His drugs.”
“Yeah. I figured people had bought from me before, and they’d do it again. Junkies don’t give a fuck where it comes from. I thought I could sell just enough on the side that he wouldn’t notice.”
“But he did.”
“Yeah, he did. I guess I didn’t cover my tracks as well as I thought I did because he figured it out right away. He gave me a chance to come clean and give the shit back, but when his business partner figured out what was going on…well, Kyle had to save face.”
“He couldn’t let you get away with stealing from him.” I’m familiar with the attitude. When it comes to career criminals, loyalty ranks up at the top. And deception, stealing in particular, is a betrayal at the highest level.
“Exactly,” she says. “I wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, but I was in over my head. I thought I knew how to handle Kyle. Up to that point, he never hit me that hard. I didn’t think he would really hurt me.”