Page 67 of Beneath the Stain

He sighed. Why not?

Some girl. Bitching about her father not being there. I told her the one time we got our wish for a dad to stick around, turns out, he liked to hit. Maybe she should fix her own life and not worry about who was watching.

There was another break, and he winced. He’d said itnice, though. He’d been trying to give her something, some wisdom, one of the few things he thought he really knew.

Sounds like good advice.

He closed his eyes. God.Someonegot it.

I think I sounded like an asshole. Made her cry. For once, I wasn’t even trying.

The silence between them stretched long, and for a moment, Mackey almost put the phone down and started packing. God. He couldn’t cut it here. He’d been a total wash in school, and he couldn’t evenrememberhow he’d functioned for the past year. Social skills—he sucked at them. If he could piss people off or toss away one-liners at a press conference, he could manage. If his relationships consisted of a cock in the dark, he was great. But talking to real live people—or, hell, texting them for that matter—was just….

You were trying, Mackey. You were trying to be a good guy. Don’t worry about it. I bet a lot of people cry in rehab.

Mackey couldn’t decide whether to laugh or, there in the semidarkness, let the burn in his eyes take over.

You’re not shitting around about that. Whole fucking world cries. BLAKE cried—something about his dad calling him a fuckup.

But not you.

I cried on you. Jesus, what do you people want from me?

We want you to live to thirty—and maybe even longer!

Mackey chuckled, the sting in his eyes receding.

Good luck with that, he texted.I don’t know if anyone expected me to live THIS long.

Please don’t.

Mackey frowned.

Please don’t what?

Please don’t joke about that, Mackey.

Sorry—that would be one hell of a mess, wouldn’t it?

It would leave a fucking big hole, asshole.

Are you kidding? I’d be immortalized. I’d be a GOD!

Suddenly the phone buzzed—not with a text but with an actual phone call.

“Jesus, Trav—you’re calling me? Who does that?”

“It’s why phones were invented, genius. Take it back.” Trav’s voice was uncompromising—and God, but it sent a shiver of joy and want down Mackey’s spine, where it detonated in the pit of his stomach.

“What?”

“Would you really rather die young, leave a good memory, all of that rock star glory bullshit you were just saying?”

“It was… I don’t know. It was a joke!”

“It was a shitty one. Now promise me you’re not thinking that way, or I’ll never get to sleep.”

Mackey sighed and closed his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll live forever. I’ll be Bruce Springsteen or Mick Jagger or something.”