Intersections Read online

  “Yeah, um, okay. Sure…” With shaking hands he pulled the pill bottle from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. When she grabbed it, his hand lingered on hers. He put his other hand on her shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. Keisha smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Sure. If you need anything, just call me or whatever.”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t hide the emptiness in her voice.

  She was so relieved to get the ashes back she wasn’t even angry anymore that he’d stolen them in the first place. He looked so confused and awkward, as if he might burst into tears, but before they had a chance to spill, he stood up.

  “Bye, Keisha,” he said, and he walked out her door without slamming it and without looking back.

  7

  She watched the door for a few minutes after he left hoping he wouldn’t come back. He was a good guy, but when he tried to comfort her, it felt wrong, icky, like he couldn’t understand that even though she’d told him such terrible things, she felt better. It was his idea that she was broken that led him to think that he had to comfort her. Instead, she felt strong, and getting all that shit out of her, not to mention getting the ashes back, made Keisha feel better than she had in months.

  Confident Brady wouldn’t come back, that he’d waddle home with his nice guy tail between his nice guy legs, she did something she didn’t do very often. Keisha lit a few candles, sprinkled a few of Conrad’s ashes on the board and engaged him in one on one communication.

  She sipped her bourbon then gripped the planchette.

  “Hey, Conrad.”

  “Hey, yourself,” the planchette scratched across the board.

  “What happened tonight? Why did you want me to tell that story? Why now? Why to him? I don’t understand.”

  The wooden piece glided under her fingers. It took a long time to spell the words, but she never forgot a letter.

  “You needed to. Don’t you feel so much better now?”

  “I do.” She nodded. “Thank you. But it’s just weird. Last night you told me just to have sex with Brady, and now tonight you’ve got me spilling my guts to him.”

  “He tried to steal me away from you.”

  “I know, but I think that was innocent, even though it was pretty awkward.”

  Just as Conrad started to answer, Keisha’s phone chimed.

  Text message.

  Brady fucking MacGregor.

  Hey. Sorry for leaving like that. And more sorry for stealing those ashes. I had no idea what they meant to you. Sorry if things got really awkward, I just really like you, Keisha. I would love to hang out again sometime soon.

  She read it, rolled her eyes, and picked up the planchette.

  “So what do you think I should do, Conrad? Obviously I can’t replace you, but I’m only twenty-eight. Sooner or later you’re going to have to approve of a guy for me, right?”

  Before he could answer, her phone chimed again.

  Text message.

  Guess who?

  And I just wanted to say thank you for opening up to me, I know that wasn’t easy for you. I’m glad talking about it helped you to feel better. And I’m glad that I could be the one there for you. Also I just remembered that both times I was at your place I had like three beers and half a bottle of bourbon. Next time drinks are on me :D. Night.

  “Jesus Christ. What a knight in shining armor. How did I ever survive before him?”

  She wasn’t even talking to Conrad, but the Ouija board spelled out “Ha ha ha.”

  “Well, I’m gonna go out next weekend. Maybe getting my past off my chest, at least to one guy will help my confidence and I can find someone else, maybe even Mr. Perfect, but like always, I’m gonna need your help, Conrad.”

  “Of course, my lovely.”

  My lovely. She sighed and clutched the planchette to her heart. That’s what he always called her. God, she missed him. He knew she loved that nickname and he used to say it at ridiculous and inappropriate times to make her laugh. “Does my cock feel good inside you, my lovely?” he would say in a deadpan voice that would have her cackling underneath him. “Is my lovely upset?” he would ask if he just ran the pool table after breaking and not letting her even get a shot in. Her mind got lost in all the sweet memories and she sipped bourbon and squeezed the planchette.

  Her phone chimed.

  Text message.

  Brady MacGregor.

  “What the fuck am I going to do with this sad, pathetic, desperate douchebag?”

  Before she could release the planchette and pick up her phone, the board drew her hands to it and spelled out two words.

  Her mouth fell open, but she couldn’t release it from her grip.

  “Kill him.”

  Her hands cramped around it making it nearly impossible to let go, but finally she did, flinging it free with horror on her face and tears in her eyes. It smashed into the empty tumbler Brady had left on the end table. The glass shattered, tinkling to the floor.

  She read the most recent text message.

  Sorry for bombarding you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. If you are, then don’t answer this message, and I’ll know for sure. Winky face.

  Keisha didn’t know quite how to take that. Talk about a no-win situation. But his concern wasn’t her concern at the moment.

  She reached into the dregs of broken glass to pick up the planchette, slicing her hand open on two or three shards as she retrieved it. The cuts stung and blood beaded on her skin.

  Dripping blood, she put it back on the board and asked, “Do I really need to kill him?”

  “Yes,” the planchette answered, leaving a smear of blood across the board.

  “Then I will,” she said. “If it has to be done, then I will do it.”

  Even though she spoke the words, she could never see herself committing such an act.

  Blood coated the board, but the wooden piece slid right through it.

  “Good,” it said. “Sooner the better.”

  8

  A week passed and Keisha understood more and more why Conrad wanted her to kill Brady. Even though they all seemed so concerned and so innocent, the fucking text messages just wouldn’t stop. A few times he’d even called, but she never answered and after ten calls, he only left one voicemail.

  “Keisha, it’s Brady, but I’m sure you know that. I’ve been thinking about you. Kind of a lot. You should call me back. Or answer me. I really don’t know what happened here. Okay. Bye.”

  She didn’t call him back and didn’t answer any of his texts. Half the reason being that he annoyed the shit out of her, the other half being that Conrad wanted her to kill him and she kind of wanted to kill him herself. Better for Brady’s safety and her sanity to just ignore him.

  She went back to doing what she always did before Brady invaded her life. She worked hard on her career creating advertising for local businesses, and she partied in her free time. Sometimes she went out with friends, but just as often she liked to go out by herself. Out with friends, she’d be more likely to get out of control because someone there would look out for her. She liked going out alone because she kept things in control and that worked a lot better when she was trying to meet a guy.

  She didn’t know why she liked bars so much. Keisha knew the general consensus was that no one fell in love with someone they met at a bar. Though easy to say, and condescend, and bash the scene, in reality she knew plenty of people in happy long-term loving relationships that had met just that way.

  A few times she tried online, but that never worked. Usually she’d feel butterflies in her stomach before a first date, pull out the Ouija board and ask Conrad. Every single time he vetoed it, and she ended up canceling. At least if she met a guy in a bar, she still had a chance to get laid.

  She tried the café, bookstore, and gym thing too, but she never found anyone even remotely interesting in such places. Maybe she would’ve before The Boys, but now, she never felt a twinge of attraction unless it involve