“Ididn’t agree to this.”
I jab a finger at Cowan. He steps back, barely avoiding me as I keep poking at him, barely keeping myself from throwing punches. The piece of human filth deserves to get beaten up or worse. Behind us, down the hall, Baptist is looking after Rodrick as the addict gets something to eat, takes a decent shower, and changes into clean clothes for what looks like the first time in a couple weeks.
“Nobody asked you to agree, suit. I couldn’t care less what you think of my methods. I will say that Rodrick was much worse off before I found him.”
I hesitate, breathing hard. “Worse off how?”
“Homeless. Desperate. I’m sure you can imagine the story. I plucked him from the streets, gave him shelter in that hotel, and made sure he had a stipend for food. He’s alive because of me.”
“He’s still an addict. He’s a goddamn mess.”
“Addicts can function. They can act. If they’re given the right amount of drugs, they can do almost anything, so long as they keep withdrawal at bay. The war on drugs—”
“I don’t want to hear your bullshit theories on American drug policy, you psychopath.” I stand there breathing hard, tugging at my hair. What am I involved in now? Cowan’s looking at me with a grim smile like he knows I’m going to break down, and the bastard’s right.
I’m going to break down.
I can’t handle this. I’m pregnant, still working with the father of my baby, and he doesn’t know. We also slept together, again, which was a terrible idea, but we did it anyway. And to make it all worse, Baptist insists on talking about it this time instead of pretending like it didn’t happen.
Cowan wins. I turn away and storm back to the room with the director on my heels. We head inside and find Baptist near the window, looking angry, while Rodrick sits on the bed in a clean robe with his legs crossed, flipping through the channels on TV.
“Roddy, darling.” Cowan greets his actor effusively like they’re standing in the middle of a Hollywood soundstage. “You look wonderful.”
“I look like a homeless junkie, Cowan. But that’s not far from the truth.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Now, did you bring me my medicine?”
“Always.” Cowan reaches into his pack and removes a little baggie—
“Oh, fuck no,” Baptist says, coming forward, and for the first time since we met, Rodrick shows a flash of anger and snatches the drugs, gripping them tightly. “Cowan. You’resupplyinghim too?”
“You remember my South Philly friends,” Cowan says, gesturing toward me. “They also sold me heroin.”
“Good heroin, not that fentanyl-laced shit. I don’t feel like dying.” Rodrick stands. “Now, shall I cook here, or—?”
“Stop it.” I glare at him and he sits down, shrugs, but doesn’t relinquish the drugs. “This is absurd. It’s beyond absurd, it’s sick. He needs help. He needs—”
“I need my actor working,” Cowan says loudly, showing a flash of anger. “Rodrick is brilliant. He’s exactly what we need, but he’s worthless if we try to shove him through a program.”
“Been there, done that, never works.” Rodrick sighs. “Lots of expensive therapy is locked away in this worthless, rattled brain.” He taps his skull with two fingers. “Once a junkie, always a junkie.”
“This is wrong,” I say, shaking my head. “I won’t be a part of it.”
“Good,” Cowan says. “I will babysit my lead actor. I need him healthy, or as healthy as he can be, and very much on drugs. No withdrawal, no bullshit. We’ll keep him working and sane. Besides, you two have another task.”
“Fuck that,” Baptist says. “We’re done running your errands.”
“Location scouting. That’s a reasonable request.”
Baptist grinds his teeth. He looks at me and back at Rodrick, who’s sitting there and grinning away, holding his baggie like its pure gold. I can almost see the thoughts flash through Baptist’s brain, and for a second, I think he’s going to kill Cowan. There’s enough rage and darkness inside of him to do it, too. One moment of passion and he might strangle the old director to death before he even realizes that the life’s gone from the ancient, withered husk of a bastard.
Instead, he walks past the two men and stands by my side.
“Send me the address.” He steers me away and pushes me softly to the door. “Come on, Webb.”
We leave the hotel room. I pause at the end of the hall near the elevators and sink down onto a bench. I put my head in my hands and stare at the floor, doing my best to keep my heart rate under control, but I can’t seem to calm myself.
“This is wrong,” I say quietly, not looking at Baptist. “We shouldn’t be involved in this. It’s one thing to drag the guy off the street and give him a place to stay, but another to shoot him up ourselves. Which is basically what we’re doing.”
“That’s on Cowan and Rodrick. Not us.”