Chapter Three
Ian’s hands trembled as he fumbled with the lighter. Sweat beaded on his brow, his head ached. He knew he had waited too long and was impatient for release.
“Hold on, man,” said Walt, taking the lighter.
He effortlessly sparked and maintained a flame and held it underneath the spoon, which held a small pile of dull gray powder.
Before long, the powder became liquid, and the liquid began to boil. The drug simmered and boiled until fumes wisped into the open air. Ian set down the spoon and tore open a sterile rig. He filled the syringe almost half-full. Walt helped Ian to tighten a belt around his upper arm, while Ian lit himself a cigarette and began to smoke as he tapped his vein. He then stuck the needle into his arm and leaned back. He drew in a deep breath, rolling his eyes back into their sockets, welcoming the rush of sublime euphoria. He turned to watch the cartoons on the television.
The cartoons appeared to melt at first, and then they blurred and began to mix into oblong shapes and sizes. Ian only stared as his heart gradually began to slow its pace, and the colors of the cartoons became effervescent.
He started when Walt touched his shoulder.
“So, what about that girl?” Walt asked.
“What girl?” muttered Ian, sipping from a bottle of vodka, which had been wedged between the couch cushions.
“The one with the rose tattoo and the pierced navel,” replied Walt.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Ian replied.
“Dude, come on,” laughed Walt, shoving his shoulder, “You’re telling me you don’t remember the blonde chick with a barbed wire and rose tat on top of her foot? The hot blonde chick I might add.”
“Exactly how much dope did you shoot up before we closed last night?” Ian asked sardonically, licking his lips as he mechanically touched his nose and attempted to keep his head from nodding.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” he grunted, shaking his head.
James stepped into the tattoo shop, feeling awkward and out of place amongst the rough, intimidating group of artists there. Even the one girl in bright colors caused him to feel a strange uneasiness when she approached him asking, “Can I help you, sir?”
“I-I’m looking for Ian Darnelli. I heard he works here,” he replied nervously.
She smiled crookedly and shook her head saying, “I’m sorry, it’s nothing against you really it’s just the last time a dude in a suit came here to see Ian it was because Ian had slept with his wife... I’m Quinn.”
“James... uh... James Darnelli,” he replied, shaking her starry hand.
“Darnelli... Wait... You and Ian are related?” she stuttered, as though shocked.
“Well, back home he was known as ‘Sebastian’, but yes... I’m his older and eldest brother,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Exactly how long has it been since you last saw your... Sebastian?” she asked.
“Ten years Friday,” he sighed, “And the only reason I know that is because Friday is his twenty-sixth birthday and he ran... I’m sorry, you don’t know very much about his past, do you?”
She sat at the counter and replied, “If he were a book all his pages would be scribbled over. He’s not exactly the most “open” dude around.”
He nodded, and she pressed a button on the intercom saying, “Hey, boss, there’s someone here to see you.”
“Who?” rasped an unfamiliar voice.
“He says he knows you,” she replied, raking her fingers through her bleached blonde and pink-streaked tresses.
“It’s my day off, Quinn,” he muttered.
“This isn’t for business, boss,” she said quickly, “I... I really think you need to come down and see him.”
“Fine...” he grunted.
“He sounds...Different...” James commented after a long pause.
“He’s probably a little more different than that if you haven’t seen him since he was sixteen,” she replied, feeling slightly protective of Ian when she said those words. [/i]No wonder he’s so bitter,[i] she thought to herself.
James nodded, catching her tone. Then he did a double take and straightened his back. His grew eyes wide and his jaw slackened.
Quinn turned around and saw it was Ian who had caused this sort of reaction.
James could only stare at his little brother, unable to believe the man that stood before him was his brother, much less his kin. He was less than ‘slim’ or ‘thin’, he was scrawny. His eyes were hollow, haunted, and when James looked into them he felt eerily guilty. Had Ian really fallen so far?
Other than his unhealthy and unshaven appearance, Ian did have had an oddly beautiful quality. His skin. It was like a golden brown canvas covered in some of the most peculiar yet astounding pieces of artwork that would never be found in a museum or hanging in a home.
Ian froze at the sight of James, and took a step back as his arms flew to his bandana covered head. He seemed as though he were struggling to breathe. He was the first to recover from his shock, saying loudly as he put his hands on his hips, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I missed you too, baby brother,” James replied.
Ian pointed at him, “Get the hell out of my shop.” And he began to walk away.
“Ian-“ James began.
“I said get the hell out of my shop!” Ian roared, whirling around.
The entire shop immediately hushed down to the last whirring needle gun.
Intimidated, James fell quiet. However, he shook his head and stepped forward, “Ian... Please, just hear me out... Okay... I didn’t know you were here, I promise, but then I ran into Nykki at the beach and-“
“You’ve talked to Nykki?” Ian interrupted, his voice hoarse.
“Well... for a short period of time yeah-“ James replied.
Ian nodded and sighed, scratching his ear and rubbing his nose as he nodded.
“I just want to talk with you,” James stated.
Ian walked out, and gestured for James to follow him.
They ventured into the Rec-Room, where Walt and Tank were watching television. They looked up and started at the sight of James.
“Out,” Ian ordered flatly.
They left without question.
James noticed the rig on the coffee table. Ian quickly snatched it up and tossed it into a nearby waste basket saying, “Don’t say it, James...”
“How long has this been going on?” asked James incredulously.
“Things have changed, James,” Ian replied, sitting on the couch as he picked up the bottle of vodka.
“What do you mean?” James pursued.
“I mean that everything that was before is no more... And never will be again,” Ian said somberly, staring fixedly into empty space.
For just a moment, James thought he saw tears welling up in Ian’s eyes. He remembered ‘easy’ was a thing that Ian rarely stumbled upon.
“Ian... What happened to you?” asked James, “What’s kept you from us all these years?”
“You know what happened,” Ian growled.
“Ian, all we know is that you ran off to recruit with a pregnant girl named ‘Nykki’!” cried James, “We don’t know anything! What the hell happened-?”
“You wanna know what happened?” Ian shouted, standing to his feet.
“Yes, Ian, I do,” James replied.
“I made it,” Ian spat, “I made it into the marines... I did what you all said I couldn’t do... I made it...”
“What happened?” James asked.
Ian’s jaw clenched shut and he stepped back. Pain flickered into his eyes and across his grizzled features. Shaking his head, he looked at his feet, unable to reply.
“Ian?” James said more softly when he realized his little brother was struggling to keep his guard up.
Ian plopped onto the couch and pressed the bottle to his lips.
“Ian, don’t-“ said James.
Ian’s brows furrowed, “You’ve been out of my life for the past ten years and you honestly think you can come in here and start hounding in on my business?”
“I just want to help,” James said.
“You can help me by walking out of here and never coming back,” Ian said flatly.
“You don’t mean that,” James said, shaking his head.
Ian looked at him through bleary green eyes saying, “In fact I do.”
