Page 7 of Up In Smoke

And I’m really fucking happy for them, I swear. But sometimes seeing other people finding such joy can’t help but remind me what I’m holding myself back from.

I’ve got no one to blame other than my own stubborn sense of responsibility. It makes me laugh as I rub my forehead, trying to fend off the headache I feel developing. Am I really going to waste my morning moping? Or am I going to make the most of my early start and head out for a run? At least I’ll have a sense of accomplishment if I get five miles under my feet before most of my neighbors’ alarms go off. I’ve always felt better when I’m productive. If I’m still restless later, perhaps I’ll do some baking. My squad never says no to homemade treats.

With a vague plan in place, I pull back the duvet and swing my legs over the side of the bed, sitting up on the verge of finally tackling the day.

Then my phone vibrates.

It’s so early, I wonder who might be trying to contact me. Even when I see it’s my buddy Adam I’m still confused. He might live in Switzerland these days where it’s nine hours ahead of California, but he would know it’s barely five in the morning here. Why’s he calling?

I won’t find out if I don’t answer, and seeing as Iamawake, it would be silly not to. Besides, Adam Silverman has been my best friend since the first week of middle school way back when. Having just been ruminating on how sad and lonely my life feels right now, it feels like fate he should call.

“Hey, man,” I say cheerfully as I press the phone to my ear. “How’s it going?”

“Rico?” he cries, sounding alarmed. “You’re awake? Oh, thank god.”

I’m immediately on alert. “What’s wrong?”

“I took the kids swimming and my phone was off,” he says in a rush. “I literally just got the voicemail, and I don’t know what to do and I didn’t know who else to call! I thought about contacting the police, but I don’t think he’d like that. He’s probably in too much trouble already?—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” I tell him firmly. “Adam, what’s happening? How can I help?”

He takes a deep, shuddery breath, and I really should have guessed the next words that come out of his mouth.

There’s only one person who can unravel my best friend like this.

“It’s Jesse.”

For a second, I close my eyes and grit my teeth. It’s funny, as I was just talking about Jesse Silverman’s train wreck of a life with the team the other week. I’ve always had an inexplicable soft spot for the kid, and I do still think of him as Adam’s baby brother despite the fact he’s been a grown man for many years now.

But I really fucking hate how he can never, ever seem to get his shit together. Adam worries about him constantly. Even living on the other side of the planet can’t stop it, apparently. It’s not fair when he has a stressful job with long hours and two kids under seven to deal with already. His wife works just as muchas he does, but her patience for the youngest Silverman ran out long ago.

I should take a leaf out of her book, but here I am, heart in my mouth, anticipating what trouble Jesse’s gotten himself into this time. Waiting to be told what I can do to help. Adam’s like family to me. I was the best man at his wedding, for crying out loud, not Jesse. He barely made it on time and was drunk before we even finished taking the photos. But if Adam refuses to give up on his little brother, that means I can’t, either.

“Has he gotten arrested again?” I prompt when it becomes clear that Adam’s distress has hijacked his train of thought.

For the thousandth time, I curse his parents for being so blasé about the whole thing. He always turns to me rather than them, and I’m more than happy to give him whatever support he needs. But maybe if they weren’t so ambivalent, their sons wouldn’t be in this predicament.

The whole reason Jesse got into acting was because he was too much for the Silvermans to handle as a kid. Then when he went off the rails, they understood him even less and just…washed their hands of him. I don’t think they’re bad people. I guess some parents simply aren’t made for out of the ordinary challenges.

I know a thing or two about that. It’s probably why Adam and I are still so close despite the six thousand miles between us.

“No, I don’t think he’s been arrested,” Adam says, sounding exhausted. “He left me this voice mail. Rico, he’s scared me. I think he might…I think this time he really might…”

A chill runs down my spine. “No, man. Don’t think like that. If you’re worried he’s in bad shape, you should call an ambulance. Get a welfare check on him.”

He makes an anguished sound. “He’s on such thin ice. It’s a miracle I’ve been able to keep him out of jail this long. I don’t want to get him in trouble if it’s nothing. It would break him. It’dbreakme.I…I will call if necessary. But I was wondering…shit, Rico, would I be a complete asshole if I asked you to go over to his place? He’s in south LA these days, and I thought?—”

“Consider it done,” I interrupt, already putting the call on speaker phone so I can start pulling out clean clothes from my closet and drawers. “Text me the address and I’ll head out immediately.”

I can hear his relief all the way from Europe. “Are you sure?” he asks weakly.

“One hundred percent,” I promise him as I get the shower running. Thirty seconds to freshen up hopefully won’t make too much of a difference. If I’m going to be hunting down wayward former child stars, I’d rather not start off sweaty.

I’d also love to grab some coffee, but that might be pushing my luck too far.

“Fuck, Rico, you’re the best. I hate putting this on you, but I don’t know what else to do. He just…”

The sentence hangs unfinished. I know Adam will always love his brother, no matter how many times he tries to throw his life away.