Page 74 of Desperate Haste
“Track him?” Bailey is brave enough to ask first.
“Isn’t that what they’re for, Kolb? For situations like this?” Hank raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, still only looking at Kolbi.
Another long breath comes from Kolbi and he shifts to one side, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Yeah, it is. I should’ve thought about it sooner.”
“How are you going to track him, Jack?” Magnolia questions now. He looks to his wife before his eyes flit to Hank who shrugs apologetically.
“With the trackers I have on all of you,” he announces more nonchalantly than appropriate, seeing as to what he’s just admitted to.
“All of us?” Bailey gawks.
“Well, not you and Ophelia. But everyone else in this room, yeah.”
“And where, might I ask, ismytracker?” Magnolia stands from the couch and moves to stand in front of Kolbi with her hands on her hips.
He takes her right hand, straightens the bracelet she never takes off, and pulls it to his lips. “There’s a reason I told you to never take this off, flower.”
She shakes her head and bites back a smile. “We’ll talk about this later, Mr. Vesey.”
“Can we focus please? Best friend potentially doing some very dumb and very illegal things right now,” Conrad barks.
“Right, hold on.” Kolbi looks at his phone and taps on the screen a few times.
“You said he came in his truck, right?” I nod.
“There, got him.” His face falls and he scrubs hit hard with his hand. “Shit.”
“What, what’s wrong?” I urge, leaning closer to him over the coffee table and fearing the worst.
“I know where he is and he’s definitely doing something very, very dumb. We need to go—now. Conrad and Hank, you guys come with me and Bailey?—”
“I got the girls.” She nods in reply.
We all grab our things and hurry to our cars to follow Kolbi to wherever his secret tracker is showing him Malcolm is. As we drive out of the city, I try to keep my breath steady and not go to the worst case scenario. But as the sky opens up and a heavy rain pounds against the windshield, it almost feels as if they’re piercing the glass and going straight through my heart.
38
MALCOLM
What’s the point of anything anymore?I think to myself as I sit in my truck outside the old rundown house I used to come to at least once a week—sometimes several times a week—before I got sober. I haven’t been back to this place since the last time I came for another dose of my dirty little secret. The pick up that resulted in two of my best friends finding me passed out on the floor of my apartment. The pick up that ended with me in the hospital, and then a rehab program, and then walking into an N.A. meeting. The same N.A. meeting where I met Marshall.
Marshall.
His name creates a deep sense of shame and disappointment in my mind as I think about him. He would be so ashamed of who I’ve become. Of how I’ve treated the people I love. I’m sure he would think I’ve failed the bar and completely ruined everything it stands for. He left it to me and I couldn’t even manage it for a few months before completely unraveling. I can just picture his face, looking at me now. Disgusted by how much I’ve failed. If he were still here, I can’t even think about what he might say to me.
Probably that you’re a disgrace and he never should have trusted you in the first place. What an absolute disappointment you are,the vile voice in my head sneers.
And Ophelia. How much I’ve hurt her too. The way I yelled at her makes me want to put my head through a window. I never should have treated her that way, she was only trying to help. Then I went and yelled at her before storming out like a fucking asshole. She was finally starting to trust me, to trust being whatever we are, and I went and screwed it up. I wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to me again.
You don’t deserve her anyway. You’re a failure, a deadbeat. Why would a woman like her want to be with some sad pathetic excuse of a man like you?
I look at my hands in my lap and try to get them to start my truck and go home. To leave this place before I go inside and do something I know I won’t be able to come back from. My right hand reaches for the ignition when the voice comes back again.
Your friends hate you after what you said to them at Kolbi’s place. If you think you lost Ophelia, I can promise you, you’ve lost them. They’re never going to forgive you or talk to you again. Might as well drown out the pain of your mistakes and failures and have a good time while you do. It’ll be easier this way. You know it will be.
My hand falls and I look towards the front door, considering it for a second longer. But then something in me reaches for the door handle and pushes it open. The voice inside my head that egged me on in the first place laughs, knowing that it’s won. As I jog up the steps and head inside the old, disheveled house, I resign myself to the knowing that, even though I’ve fucked everything up, at least I won’t be able to feel the pain of my mistakes for much longer. Soon I’ll have my relief in the shape of something stronger than a pill and I’ll do my best to carry on without everyone.
Without them, I’m nothing.
