Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 95

We got in the car, and Eve started it up without a word. I finally ventured a question. "Where are we going?"

"Home," Eve said. "I'm giving Sam a chance to keep his word."

That, I thought, was going to involve Eve chewing the corners off the walls and pacing holes in the floor. And I had absolutely no idea what to do to help her.

But that was basically what friends were for . . . to be there to keep you from doing the crazy.

We'd been home for exactly one hour when the phone rang. Justin was sitting next to the phone - he'd appropriated the place, because he was worried Eve would keep picking up the receiver to check the line - and answered on the first chime. "Glass House," he said, and listened. I watched every muscle in his body go tense and still. "Go screw yourself."

And he hung up.

I and Eve both gaped at him. "What the hell - ?" Eve blurted, and lunged for the phone. She flicked the contact switch.

"Star sixty-nine," I suggested. "Justin - who was it?"

He didn't answer. He crossed his arms over his chest. Eve frantically punched in the code. "It's ringing, " she said - and then, like Justin, she went still.

She sank down in a chair.

"Should've left it alone," Justin said.

Eve closed her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I'm here," she said tightly. "What is it, Jason?"

I caught Justin's look, and I must have seemed suspiciously in the know, because he frowned at me. "Have you seen him?" Justin asked.

Truth, or lie? "Yes," I said, even though that definitely wasn't the path of least resistance. "I saw him yesterday morning on the way to school. He said he wanted to talk to Eve."

Oh, that look. It could have melted steel. "And you forgot about chatting with the local serial killer? Sweet, Ana. Very smart."

"I didn't forget. I - never mind." There was no explaining the vibe I had gotten from Jason, not to Justin, whose most vivid memories of the little creep had to do with Jason sinking a knife into his guts. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

Eve made a shushing motion at them and hunched over the phone, listening hard. "He said what? You're not serious. You can't be serious."

Apparently, he was. Eve listened another few seconds, and then said, "Okay, then. No, I don't know. Maybe. Bye."

She put the phone back in the cradle and stared at it. Her face looked frozen.

"Eve?" I asked. "What is it?"

"My dad," Eve said. "He's - he's sick. He's in the hospital. They don't think - they don't think he's going to make it. It's his liver."

"Oh," I whispered, and leaned across the table to take Eve's right hand. "I'm sorry."

Eve's fingers were cool and limp. "Yeah, well - he asked for it, you know? My dad was an ugly drunk, and he - me and Jason didn't exactly have the greatest childhood." She locked gazes with Justin. "You know."

He nodded. He took her left hand and stared at the table. "Our dads were drinking buddies sometimes," he said. "But Eve's was worse. Lots worse."

I, having met Justin's dad, couldn't really imagine that. "How long - ?"

"Jason said a couple of days, maybe. Not long." Eve's eyes filled with tears that didn't fall. "Son of a bitch. What does he expect from me, anyway? To come running and sit there and watch him die?"