Point of View: AJ
There was this one time, a long time ago now - Christ, I don't even remember when it was - but I did this thing that made the news. I was shopping with one of our security guards out in LA, and a jewelry store got held up and me and Marcus went after the thief and like recovered their shit. I was retarded, I recognize that now, a really ballsy move from someone who really was a pussy deep down inside, but I did what I did and I got my face on Fox News for it. Someone asked me the what made me do it, and I said I didn't know and someone else that was on the show - a psychologist they were doing an interview with - said that it was hero complex.
Apparently I like saving people.
I really gotta be careful with that saving people thing, though. One of these times it's gonna get me in shit, you know? It makes me do crazy things.
I wondered if Nick would buy this for the reason that I got so close to Kayla.
I was driving north to the jail where Nick was. Brian had called me and told me about their visit up there, and I felt inclined to go see him. Me and Howie.
"Do you think he looks different after being in jail?" Howie asked, his voice nervous. We were almost there. Howie had been wringing his hands the entire way, mutilating the crap out of a paper that he had in his hand.
"I haven't seen him since the fire," I answered. "Brian mentioned he was skinny."
Howie frowned.
I pulled into the lot of the squat little jail and leaned forward to look out the windshield. "Shit it looks like..." I stared, I couldn't think of a term bad enough.
"Hell," Howie supplied.
"Yeah."
Howie sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. He got out of the truck. I followed suit. Now that I was here, I was scared. I followed Howie across the lot to the stairs and we went inside. Howie talked to the woman at the front desk and after maybe a half hour of waiting, looking around the small room we were in, we were brought to an even smaller, plainer room, with a bunch of plastic chairs and a table.
Howie pulled out a chair. There was some kind of sticky substance on it. He stared at it. "Yeah no, I don't think so." He pushed the chair back in and leaned against the wall.
I wasn't scared of the sticky shit. I didn't wanna know what it was, but I wasn't afraid of it. I sat down and leaned back.
It took a few minutes, but finally the door opened and Nick stepped inside. He was gaunt-looking, pale and skinny. His eyes were sunken in and his hair was shaggy and dirty. He had what could almost be called a beard. He sat down in the chair across from me with a deep-chested sigh, like he was exhausted.
Howie came over and pulled out a different chair and quickly sat down. "You look like shit," he said flatly.
"Thanks," Nick muttered.
"You- uh- your face."
Nick's hand ran along his chin. "Yeah, crazy, huh?"
"Yeah."
Howie frowned, "How are you?"
"Well, I look how I feel," he said quietly. Howie frowned. "Like shit," he added, just in case Howie forgot.
I nudged him, "Nawh, you look better than shit."
"I smell worse than it, though."
He was getting depressed. There's no way in Hell I can tell him about me and Kayla now, I thought. It's not that I don't want to, or that I didn't plan to... I added to myself, making excuses, It's just that he can't handle it right now. Right?
"You've only got five more days, then we'll have you home and showered and feeling more like yourself," Howie said.
"My house burned down," Nick said, "I don't have a home. Remember?"
I swallowed.
"Well, Nick... Actually..." Howie reached into the pocket in the chest of his jacket. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Nick.
Nick took it and unfolded it. It was the blueprints for the housing development he was building - specifically for the house he had planned for Nick. Nick blinked at it in confusion. "What is this?" he asked quietly.
"Your new house. We break ground tomorrow."
Nick looked up, "Howie..."
"You're going to love it Nick. Wait until you see the view. And it's a wonderful design..." He pulled out another piece of paper and handed that to Nick, too, showing him the sketch of the house. "See, look."
Nick looked down at the paper. He was quiet, chewing on his lip.
Howie's voice was nervous, "Do you like it?"
Nick's eyes traveled up to Howie's. "Thank you," he croaked, voice constricted. "Shit guys." He got up, turning away. His hands wiped his eyes while he was back-to us. "Shit."
Howie smiled. "You're a good guy, Nick, you don't deserve the bullshit you've been put through by fate. This is the least I can do."
Nick's eyes were full of tears when he turned back towards us. "Yanno, I've found out who my real friends are through this whole ordeal," he said. He looked at Howie, then he looked at me.
My heart sank into my ankles somewhere.
"I have the most fucking amazing friends," Nick whispered, "That anyone could ever ask for."
Howie shook his head, "We have the most amazing friend, Nick. You."
And I felt shittier than Nick looked.
