Read Down With the Shine for Free Online Page B

me.
    Like all roller coaster rides, it ended way too soon.
    Just as I kissed him back, he pulled away. I was left grasping air, and then the shower curtain, trying to stay on my feet, but ending up in an ungraceful heap at the bottom of the bathtub. I stared at Smith, who stood in front of the sink with his back to me, taking a giant swig from a bottle of Listerine. He gargled and spat. Our eyes met in the mirror above the sink. I had a thousand words, but couldn’t get a single one out. Smith didn’t say anything either. His stare was almost hollow and as my senses returned I realized itwas whiskey that I’d tasted in his kiss.
    “Are you drunk?” I asked.
    He turned and walked out of the bathroom. His feet pounded down the steps before he bothered to call out a reply. “Believe what you want.”
    I’d figured he was referring to more than just my question, but I never had the guts to find out for sure.
    “Let’s get this over with,” Smith says now, and I am lifted and flipped over so that I am upside down over his shoulder with my ass in the air. I close my eyes, fighting nausea and something else that feels like my heart breaking.
    We walk long enough for me to hear the sound of gravel underfoot and to count only one set of footsteps. Wherever he is taking me, he is doing it alone. This, then, is my only chance for mercy.
    “Smith, please,” I whisper. “Don’t do this.”
    He stops, and I stupidly hope I’ve gotten through to him, but then he lowers me to the ground and I am lined up with the rest of the party rejects on a curb at the edge of a nearly full parking lot. I squint toward the squat brown building at the other end of the parking lot that seems to pulse with some sort of dark energy.
    My stomach sinks as I realize this is the biker bar where Dylan’s car was found. The one where my fatherand various other lowlifes have supposedly been spotted. And they are leaving us here, which means that one of us will have to go inside and ask to use the phone or else we’ll have to hike at least a mile down the road to the nearest gas station. It’s the perfect combination of clever and cruel. I look down the line of my fellow party evictees huddled on the curb. The ones who meet my gaze glare back. They know as well as I do that they’ve been dragged into a punishment meant for me.
    Pulling myself to my feet, I lurch forward and grab hold of Smith’s shirt. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Dyl. Smith, come on, you know that. She was my friend. I—”
    At last Smith’s eyes meet mine. “You what?”
    I was going to say I loved her, but with Smith glaring at me I can’t get the words out. “She was my friend,” I repeat lamely.
    “And she was my sister.”
    “I know. I’m sorry.”
    “Are you?” Smith says, and I finally detect a slight softening in his tone.
    “Yes! Of course.”
    “Then why did she have your crappy old suitcase, Lennie? And a fake ID with your name, but her picture on it? What do you know about that?”
    I’d had no idea about the fake ID, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Oh, Dyl, what did you do?
    “Well?” Smith presses, and I’m about to spill everything I know, when a gigantic arm circles Smith’s chest, picks him up, and carries him away as if he weighs nothing more than a rag doll. The white letters on the back of his T-shirt read Security. I start to chase after them when a second bouncer grabs me. I struggle as he drags me in the opposite direction as Smith.
    “Smith!” I yell, uselessly kicking my legs against the mountain that has me in his grasp.
    I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to end up like Dyl.
    The thing is, I’m not Dylan. Dyl wanted lots of things. So many things. She was a black hole of wanting. But—with the exception of tonight—all I’ve ever asked for is survival. During that last fight when I accused her of having a death wish, she called me the living dead. Said that I didn’t know how to truly live. Maybe this