He couldn’t reschedule the business trip, no matter how much Annette complained. “I’m moving away, Enrique,” she whined. “Like, forever.”
“I’ll be back before you go,” he promised, shifting the phone to his other ear as he closed his suitcase. “We’ll go for a nice dinner, someplace classy. I’ll go with you to the airport the day of. Alright?” The only response he got was a heavy sigh on the other end. “Annette, please. Don’t be like that. You know how it is.”
“You know, I don’t actually, Enrique. How come you’re never there when I need you? You want me to watch your house, feed your plants and shit, my last fuckin’ week in New York?”
“It’s only for a couple days. Come on.”
“Me’n Alonzo were s’posed to go to Atlantic City Friday.”
He sighed. Alonzo, Alonzo, Alonzo. Only good thing about his sister moving a thousand miles away, he wouldn’t have to hear that name every five seconds. “You can still go. Just do the plants first. It takes five minutes.”
“What, then I gotta get up and come back and do it again?”
“You gotta come back anyways, right?”
“Yeah. Not for fuckin’ plants, though. Like, if you had a dog maybe, that’d be cute. And I could take a dog with me.” A pause, and he could picture her, staring off at nothing with a thoughtful look in her eyes, chewing on one of her long fake nails. “Well, maybe not. I don’t think he like dogs.”
Not her husband, the “he”, no – the fag she met at a club night 3 years ago and decided was her new best friend. Not that he thought too highly of the fucking husband either, and why they were talking about who would or would not like a dog that didn’t exist was beyond him. Whatever. He glanced down at his watch. “I gotta leave in a minute. You going to do this for me or not?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“Thank you. Means a lot.”
“Whatever. Listen, I gotta go too, Alonzo’s callin’.” Alonzo, Alonzo, Alonzo.
“Alright. I’ll see you soon. Take care.”
“Love y –”
He’d already gone to hit the button to end the call, accidentally cutting her off. Fuck. Asshole, he thought.
Oh well. It didn’t matter. He’d see her in a couple days. Make it up to her. Nice dinner, someplace classy. Maybe pick up some earrings or something while he was away, real gold, not that tacky fake shit she wore all the time.
“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, flipping through his Rolodex for the cab company, “she’d like that.” He was lucky to have her, Annette – he had to remember that. Cherish it.
--
So when Enrique came back after 4 days, 3 hours later than intended (fucking flight delays – but he’d smooth-talked his way into an upgrade for his troubles, so it hadn’t been all bad) and noticed his front door open as he got out the cab, he freaked out a little. And when he opened the door and saw the state of his house, he freaked out a lot.
“Annette?” he called out, dropping his suitcase. “Hey, Annette, you in here?” He’d been annoyed at her not picking up the phone, none of ‘em – he’d called her house, his house, fucking Dino’s (Angelo Pancamo’s cool voice informing him that neither his sister or the owner of the establishment had set foot in the building in days) – but now he was fucking worried.
If something had happened to her while he’d been away...
Fuck. He’d fucking kill himself. He’d kill everyone.
“Annette?” he repeated, just as his eyes settled on something amidst the wreckage that had been his living room that simultaneously relaxed him and made his blood boil all the hotter.
Two pairs of high heels, one women’s, one men’s.
Alonzo, Alonzo, Alonzo.
He clenched his fists, closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
Count to 10 before you make any rash decisions.
1...2...
Fucking junkie faggot piece of shit. Should bash his fucking brains in.
3...4...
I’m a drug dealer. Everything I’m seeing is shit I facilitate, every fucking day.
5...6...
Not in my fucking house though. Not with my fucking sister.
7...8...
She’s my sister, and I love her, and she loves him, for whatever fucking reason. Gotta play nice. Gotta keep the peace.
9...10.
Enrique opened his eyes and headed for the bedroom.
They’d obviously passed out while on something, God knew what – both of them sprawled out on his bed fully clothed, Annette in her usual club outfit, tube top and a miniskirt that barely counted as outerwear, Alonzo in some weird ass custom suit that probably cost more than the average monthly rent in this part of NYC. His sister’s head resting on his chest, eyeliner smeared across the shiny white fabric, her arm flung across his stomach – his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.
Enrique grabbed his limp wrist and flung it away – it hit the end table with a loud thwack, but Alonzo didn’t move. Fucking junkie, he thought, giving Annette a little shake. “Hey, Annette,” he said softly. “Wake up.”
She stirred slightly, tightened her grip on Alonzo. Didn’t love that. He shook her again, a little more forcefully. “Annette.”
“Mmm.”
“You awake?”
“Mmm. Enrique?” She lifted her head slightly to look at him, eyes bleary. “I thought you weren’t back til the 17th.”
“Today’s the 17th, babe,” he said with a patience he didn’t feel.
“Oh.” She closed her eyes again, didn’t move. He shook her shoulder again.
“Annette.”
“Mmm. What.”
“What happened to my fucking house.”
“S’fine,” she mumbled. “We’ll clean it up.”
“You’re gonna clean it up. How do you figure that? You’re on a plane in 8 hours.”
“Alonzo’ll clean it up.”
“Yeah, somehow, I doubt that. What the fuck is this, anyway?”
No response.
“What’d you take?”
“Nothin’.”
“Bullshit. Hey.” He smacked Alonzo’s head. “What’d you give her.”
“Leave him alone. He didn’t give me nothin’.”
“He can speak for himself. Wake up, you cocksucker.” Alonzo simply rolled over onto his side, curling his body around Annette, pulling her closer to him. Hated that. Enrique pushed him away, pulled at Annette slightly. “Come on, get up.”
“Fuck off.” She pulled away, back towards Alonzo. “Leave me alone. Asshole.”
“Hey. You think Javier wants you in bed with other men?”
“S’Alonzo,” she replied, as if that mattered, as if Javier wouldn’t stab the other eye out of Alonzo's head if he’d been the one to come across this scene, fag or not.
“It isn’t right, and you know it. Get up.”
“Go away. You’re being a douche.”
“I’m being a douche. Okay.” Enrique could feel a migraine coming on. “Okay. You know what. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” He turned away, swore as he did so he saw Alonzo’s arm tighten around his sister’s body.
Cocksucker.
---
After the world’s longest shower – standing under the hot spray, counting to 10 over and over again – Enrique finally relaxed enough to call it a night, try to get at least some sleep before heading out to the airport in – he looked at his watch. 5 hours. Christ. He left his suit hanging on the door to the bathroom, walked into the living room resigned to a few uncomfortable hours on the couch, at which point he discovered that he seemingly no longer had a couch.
He stared at the empty space for a few moments before heading back into the bedroom.
“Alright,” he said. “Both of you, up.”
No response. He approached the bed, shook the headboard vigorously, eliciting mumbled protests.
“Either of you wanna tell me where my couch is?”
“Gone,” Alonzo replied unexpectedly, in a deep voice that always sort of took him off guard. Annette giggled into his neck.
“Gone. Alright. Gone where?”
“Away.” More giggling. Alonzo kissed her forehead. “Buy you a new one,” he said. “In the morning.”
Count to 10. Count to 10.
Enrique weighed his options.
He could do what he wanted very badly to do – which is yank Alonzo up out of his fucking bed and kick him out of his fucking house – and in the process, probably get into a screaming argument with his sister, who he only had 6 hours left to spend with before she moved across the country, whose new earrings he had in his suitcase. Leave on a sour note, for God knew how long.
Or, he could shut the fuck up and deal with it tomorrow.
Didn’t love that. Didn’t like that. Fucking hated it.
It is what it is.
He rounded the bed. “Move over,” he ordered.
Alonzo acquiesced, scootching over just enough for Enrique to slide in beside him and yank the covers up over himself. Went to set his alarm clock, felt his hand come down on an empty end table.
Count to 10.
Knocked onto the floor, it seemed. Rather than “gone”.
He set the alarms, checked them, once, twice. Tried to settle in, ignore the presence at his back.
The presence, however, would not be ignored.
“Don’t be mad.” Alonzo’s rich baritone was softened by whispering, marred by the vague slurring in his words.
“I’m not.”
“Mmm. You’re mad. You’re seething.” He heard Alonzo turn to face him, felt his hand snake around his stomach. “Don’t,” he whispered, his lips tickling the back of his neck.
Enrique rolled onto his back, shaking him off. “Go back to sleep.”
“She’s not lying, you know.” A lacquered finger dragged lazily back and forth across Enrique’s chest. “Just a few drinks, is all.”
A few. Right. “That, we’ll talk about in the morning,” Enrique replied. “Go to sleep.”
“It’s her last night. Wanted to make it special.”
“Special? Tell me, how –” He stopped himself. “Go to sleep. Don’t make me say it again. And keep your hands to yourself, if you don't mind.”
Alonzo obediently retracted his hand and shut up, but continued facing Enrique – probably watching him, but he wasn’t going to turn his head to check: kept his eyes closed, steadied his breathing. Counting sheep this time, 12345678910.
“You’ll miss her, when she’s gone.”
Enrique’s body jerked slightly as he was pulled suddenly from the edge of sleep.
“True,” he responded, and maybe it was the wistful tone in Alonzo’s voice, maybe because Enrique was still half-asleep, but for the first time it really hit him, Annette leaving, his baby sister all the way down in Florida without him, with only that scumbag she married and no friends around to help her out if she got into trouble. Not even wacked out friends like you.
“Least you’ll have me, though, right, sugar?” as if he could follow Enrique’s thoughts, the playful smile that accompanied the words evident, and Enrique sighed heavily.
“I don’t want you. How much more abundantly clear I need to make that, I don’t know.”
“No?” and the hand was back, travelling down to his groin, grasping him through his boxers. “Not even a little bit?”
Enrique caught Alonzo’s wrist and gently placed it back at his side. Not even a little bit, he wanted to say, but it would be a lie, and it would scan as a lie, but it was another conversation he didn’t want to be having right now. “Go to sleep,” he said instead. “Last time I’m gonna say it.”
“I heard that one already,” and it was his own fault for not backing his shit up, but he was tired, too tired to resist, or so he told himself as he felt Alonzo’s hand extend across him once more, this time to tilt Enrique’s head to the side to face him. “Kiss me.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Mmm. Not as think as you drunk I am,” but as he leaned in Enrique could smell the tequila, sickly sweet but mostly sickly, like he’d tried to cover up the stench of alcohol-induced vomiting with more alcohol, which wasn’t unlikely. He pulled away.
It was pathetic. A pathetic waste.
“I don’t want you,” he repeated. “Not like this. Not fucked up. You get your shit together, maybe.”
A long pause, Alonzo’s thumb gently stroking the side of his mustache. “You mean it?” he said finally.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t, and it wasn’t because he was tired, and it wasn’t because Alonzo was drunk, and it wasn’t anything he hadn’t said before. You’re a junkie. You’re destructive. To everyone, to everything, including my sister, including yourself. “Maybe.” Enrique rolled over.
“Goodnight.”
Silence for what seemed like forever, long enough for him to finally drift off to sleep, making him unsure whether or not he actually heard Alonzo respond with a quiet “Goodnight, Enrique.”
---
“Hey. We’re leaving.” Enrique tapped the side of Alonzo’s head. “Wake up.”
Alonzo merely groaned, buried his head further into the pillow.
“Wake up, I said. Say goodbye to my sister.”
“Bye,” a muffled voice replied. Annette kissed his head.
“Come visit me, okay? You’ll like Miami. They got this club there, it’s all mirrors and shit.” She kissed him again. “I’ll miss you.”
No response. Enrique wanted to slap him. “She said she’ll miss you. You gonna miss her?”
Alonzo rolled over finally, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Yes.”
“Okay. Tell her, not me.”
Alonzo sat up, embraced Annette. “I’ll miss you, baby. I’ll come visit. Promise.” He pulled her back down onto the bed, and she laughed in surprise, and Enrique felt his skin prickle, kept his fucking mouth shut. “Mirrors?”
“Yeah! Javier was tellin’ me about it. I dunno nothing else though. Maybe it sucks dick.”
“Sounds amazing.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Touching,” Enrique said dryly. “Come on, let’s go.”
She squeezed Alonzo tightly one more time, then sprung up. “Bye! Call me! Or wait, no. I’ll call you. Bye!”
“Bye.” Alonzo flopped back down onto the bed, put the pillow over his face. Enrique lingered in the doorway.
“When I come back, I don’t wanna see you here,” he said. No way Alonzo was gonna be cleaning up, so it wasn’t worth presenting as an option. “You got it?”
“You mean what you said?”
“What I said?”
“Last night.” Alonzo pulled the pillow off his face. “You want me sober.”
“I dunno. Maybe.”
“I’ll do whatever you want. Anything, baby.”
“We’ll see.”
“Promise me.”
“Promise you? No.” Enrique could hear Annette shouting at him from the driveway; cab was here. “I said we’ll see. We’ll see.”
Alonzo stared up at the ceiling, said nothing.
“Out of my house, by the time I get back,” Enrique repeated. “Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” Alonzo murmured. “Mirrors and shit.” He rolled over.
The yelling was more insistent now, angry. Enrique headed out the door, lugging Annette’s suitcase down the steps.
“God! What took you so long, huh?” she said as he slid into the seat next to her. “You make sure Alonzo was alright?”
“He’s fine.”
“You know, I’m really gonna miss him. Like, I know he ain’t gonna be able to visit much, because of Dino’s and shit, but maybe in a month or two. There’s this rave I really wanna go to, and I know Javier’s ass isn’t gonna take me. You think you can remind him?”
“Maybe.”
“Make sure he don’t forget about me. I know Miami ain’t New York, but it’s cool too, you know. There’s cool stuff down there. Oh, I was looking the other day, there’s this place down by the boardwalk – ”
“Hey,” Enrique interrupted. “I love you, alright?”
“Huh?” She looked at him strangely. “Yeah, I love you too, Enrique.”
“I got you something. A little going away gift.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out the earrings. She squealed loudly, making the cab driver glance back to make sure he wasn’t, he didn’t know, fucking strangling her or something.
“Oh my god! Enrique! They’re beautiful. Oh, no.” Her face fell, and she didn’t even have to fucking say it. Oh, Alonzo would love these. Oh, I wish I could show him.
Alonzo, Alonzo, Alonzo.
Guess he’d still be hearing that fucking name after all.
“Listen,” he said. “You’re gonna have a good time down there. Make some new friends. You take care of yourself. Don’t worry about what’s going on up here. Everything’ll be just fine. Alright?”
Annette looked away, chewed her lower lip. “Promise?” she asked.
“Yeah, babe.” Enrique leaned his head back.
“Promise.”