fuck are you calling this number, Chase?”
“Kins gave it to—”
I cut him off. “Don’t fucking call her that,” I snarl. “Now answer my goddamn question, why are you calling this number?”
“I just wanted to talk to her. It’s like she fell off the face of the—”
“Dude, do you live under a motherfucking rock?”
“No, bro!”
“Well, you’re sure acting like it. How do you even fucking know her?”
“I don’t need to tell you shit, especially with how you’re acting. If you could tell her I called I would appreciate it.”
“I can’t do that – she’s fucking dead.”
“What?” he asks, shocked. “No. No. No.”
“I know. I don’t want to believe it either.” It pains me to have to say the next sentence, but he needs to know. He obviously hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. “She killed herself.”
He is silent. I feel bad, but Christ, someone needed to tell him. How in the world could he not know? It’s been all over the news and everything. It truthfully is mind boggling to me.
“Oh, God, are you serious?” he finally whispers.
“Yeah, man.”
“I…I had no idea. I’ve been doing missionary work with my church. And…”
“I’m sorry, dude.”
The line goes dead. He fucking hung up. Chase. Chase. I rack my brain trying to think of someone with that name that Kinsey talked about. I wonder who he was to her. I don’t buy it that he’s been traveling. He had to have known. Dammit, I should’ve asked more questions and not been such an asshole.
Hopping off my bed, I head into my dad’s office. “You got a second?” I ask him.
He’s seated behind his huge, glass, L-shaped desk. “Of course, what’s going on, son?”
“Did Kinsey ever talk about anyone named Chase?”
He twirls his pen around and around his finger, searching his brain for the name to click. “No, not that I can recall, why do you ask?”
“He just called her phone and had no clue that she was…well, that she’d passed. I find that strange, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. What else did he say?”
“He said he wanted to talk to her. I tried to ask how he knew her, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
“You should give his name and number to Detective Eldridge.”
“Fuck that. That asshole won’t do shit.”
“Come on, Bain, let’s trust the man to do his job.”
“If he was any good at it, then yes, yes, I would.”
“Just give it to him. It’s not going to hurt anything, am I right?”
I nod my head, not wanting to listen to my dad, but deep down I know he’s right. All we have is Detective Eldridge, so I have to tell him.
“Hey, while I have you here, I wanted to talk to you about your mom.”
“What now?” I grumble.
“I think we should try and do some sort of an intervention.”
“Dad, she’s not going to go for that. You should just forget about rehab and accept this is how she is.”
“Bain, listen to yourself. This is your mom we are talking about. I can’t sit back and watch her do this anymore. She’s slowly killing herself. Don’t you remember how she was before all of this? I know that woman is still inside of her, we just need to help her find her way out.”
“Dad, I love you both and I’m sorry to say this, but I think she might be a lost cause right now.”
“Fine, I’ll do it without you, Bain,” he says firmly. I can tell by the look in his eyes he’s mad at me.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Just look into Betty Ford or a place like that and let me know what you find out. I won’t let you do it alone.” A small smile comes across his face; my answer has satisfied him. Walking away, I head back to my room to call that asshole detective.
Walking into school, I’m nervous as can be and questioning my clothing already. Glancing down at my black skinny jeans and leather boots, I feel like a biker chick. What in God’s name was I thinking? I mean, for real!
Before entering Photography, I stop in the restroom to calm my nerves before I face
“Kins gave it to—”
I cut him off. “Don’t fucking call her that,” I snarl. “Now answer my goddamn question, why are you calling this number?”
“I just wanted to talk to her. It’s like she fell off the face of the—”
“Dude, do you live under a motherfucking rock?”
“No, bro!”
“Well, you’re sure acting like it. How do you even fucking know her?”
“I don’t need to tell you shit, especially with how you’re acting. If you could tell her I called I would appreciate it.”
“I can’t do that – she’s fucking dead.”
“What?” he asks, shocked. “No. No. No.”
“I know. I don’t want to believe it either.” It pains me to have to say the next sentence, but he needs to know. He obviously hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. “She killed herself.”
He is silent. I feel bad, but Christ, someone needed to tell him. How in the world could he not know? It’s been all over the news and everything. It truthfully is mind boggling to me.
“Oh, God, are you serious?” he finally whispers.
“Yeah, man.”
“I…I had no idea. I’ve been doing missionary work with my church. And…”
“I’m sorry, dude.”
The line goes dead. He fucking hung up. Chase. Chase. I rack my brain trying to think of someone with that name that Kinsey talked about. I wonder who he was to her. I don’t buy it that he’s been traveling. He had to have known. Dammit, I should’ve asked more questions and not been such an asshole.
Hopping off my bed, I head into my dad’s office. “You got a second?” I ask him.
He’s seated behind his huge, glass, L-shaped desk. “Of course, what’s going on, son?”
“Did Kinsey ever talk about anyone named Chase?”
He twirls his pen around and around his finger, searching his brain for the name to click. “No, not that I can recall, why do you ask?”
“He just called her phone and had no clue that she was…well, that she’d passed. I find that strange, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. What else did he say?”
“He said he wanted to talk to her. I tried to ask how he knew her, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
“You should give his name and number to Detective Eldridge.”
“Fuck that. That asshole won’t do shit.”
“Come on, Bain, let’s trust the man to do his job.”
“If he was any good at it, then yes, yes, I would.”
“Just give it to him. It’s not going to hurt anything, am I right?”
I nod my head, not wanting to listen to my dad, but deep down I know he’s right. All we have is Detective Eldridge, so I have to tell him.
“Hey, while I have you here, I wanted to talk to you about your mom.”
“What now?” I grumble.
“I think we should try and do some sort of an intervention.”
“Dad, she’s not going to go for that. You should just forget about rehab and accept this is how she is.”
“Bain, listen to yourself. This is your mom we are talking about. I can’t sit back and watch her do this anymore. She’s slowly killing herself. Don’t you remember how she was before all of this? I know that woman is still inside of her, we just need to help her find her way out.”
“Dad, I love you both and I’m sorry to say this, but I think she might be a lost cause right now.”
“Fine, I’ll do it without you, Bain,” he says firmly. I can tell by the look in his eyes he’s mad at me.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Just look into Betty Ford or a place like that and let me know what you find out. I won’t let you do it alone.” A small smile comes across his face; my answer has satisfied him. Walking away, I head back to my room to call that asshole detective.
Walking into school, I’m nervous as can be and questioning my clothing already. Glancing down at my black skinny jeans and leather boots, I feel like a biker chick. What in God’s name was I thinking? I mean, for real!
Before entering Photography, I stop in the restroom to calm my nerves before I face
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