Monsters, Matt Rogers [ereader for android .txt] 📗

to get him through the final grinder of a rep, and when Tyrell dropped the bar with an exhausted smile they mirrored the previous celebration, shouting in each other’s faces. After cooling down with sets of lower weights they packed the plates and barbell away and went back into the house to refuel.

Physically and mentally spent.

Alexis placed a huge bowl of superfood salad on the kitchen table as they came in. Salmon, avocado, tomatoes, cucumber, feta cheese, kale, quinoa. Mountains of each. Slater kissed her gratefully on the forehead before he slumped into a seat. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

She said, ‘It’s my rest day. I’m programmed for a half marathon tomorrow.’

‘I’m resting after that effort, so I’ll be your personal chef for the day.’

She mimed going weak at the knees, winked at him. Then her face grew concerned. ‘The shoulder’s okay?’

He shook it out. ‘Feels fine.’

She shot a surreptitious glance in Tyrell’s direction but there was no hiding the nature of their life from the boy. ‘So that means…?’

Through a mouthful of salmon and kale Tyrell mumbled, ‘Guess he’s going back to work.’

Alexis looked to Slater for confirmation.

Slater said, ‘Tomorrow. Not today. I’m not doing anything after deadlifting 680 for three.’

Alexis seemed reluctant to continue in front of Tyrell, but there was restlessness there. Like there was something she needed to get off her chest. ‘Do you need help?’

He watched her eyes, analysed them. ‘I’ll let you know.’

Tyrell finished eating and got up, heading for the shower. Before he disappeared he said, ‘Good thing you two didn’t give me a hard time about weed. Y’know, what with talkin’ about killin’ people in front of me.’

Then he was gone.

Alexis waited until she heard the shower running as confirmation he was out of earshot, then said, ‘You think we’re doing the right thing for him? Letting him live around us?’

Slater said, ‘He’s packed on fifteen pounds of lean muscle and passed Harvard. I think he’s doing okay.’

‘It’s a double-edged sword, though.’

Slater had to agree. ‘It is.’

Her phone rang. She reached across the kitchen countertop and slid it towards herself, glanced down at the screen. Her face paled and she did a double-take. Then she winced.

He said, ‘What?’

She lowered her elbows to the bench, massaged her temples, torn as to whether to answer or not.

He said, ‘Who is it?’

She lifted her gaze. ‘It’s Ava.’

7

The café’s décor was that of a glossy old-school truck stop diner, but in self-aware, nostalgic fashion.

It was tacky by choice rather than out of necessity, which for some reason allowed them to double their prices. A bell above the door jangled as Alexis stepped inside, loud enough to make heads turn. There weren’t many customers, the café gripped by that mid-morning lull between the pre-work caffeine fix and the greasy lunch break. She scanned the room.

Ava wasn’t here yet.

Alexis had rocked up fifteen minutes late, deliberately, to remind Ava who needed who. She hadn’t forgotten the way they’d met. She’d expected and hoped to never hear from the beleaguered woman again. She’d only agreed to meet out of some subconscious curiosity, a desire to know how deep Ava had spiralled after what transpired a month and a half ago. Alexis guessed it had taken less than forty-eight hours for Ava to succumb to the withdrawals and lurch back out onto the street to score a hit. It would’ve been difficult in the aftermath of what happened in Dorchester, but Alexis was under no illusion that she’d wiped out the entire heroin trade in Boston. Working in tandem with King and Slater south of the border, together they’d cut off one head of the Hydra, but there were dozens of cartels fighting tooth-and-nail for a piece of the action. They’d killed bad men and they’d have to be satisfied with that, because black tar would already be pumping through Massachusetts in greater quantities than the month prior. So Ava had most likely relapsed, and now she’d flaked on the one opportunity Alexis had given her to—

A voice beside her said, ‘Alexis?’

Alexis looked down. She’d been headed straight past, having already glanced at the booth’s sole occupant and determined her a stranger. Now she looked closer. Her eyes widened.

‘Holy shit,’ she said. ‘Are you serious?’

Ava smiled. She was at least fifteen pounds lighter, transformed from pudgy and slouched to slim and straight-backed, but that was nothing compared to her complexion. Dope ages you prematurely, draws your dry skin into a spiderweb of cracks and wrinkles and pimples, and Ava used to need mountains of orange makeup to cover that up. Now she only wore the slightest dusting of concealer, exposing smooth cheeks and healthy pores to daylight. She’d rid herself of the inverted bob hairstyle, forgoing the bleached monstrosity for a simple ponytail. Turned out she was a brunette all along, smooth brown hair resting underneath the bleach that used to make her hair the texture of cardboard.

Ava said, ‘Surely I sounded different on the phone.’

Alexis tried not to stare, but it was impossible to resist. ‘Not this different.’

Alexis sat down on the opposite side of the booth, folded her hands together, leant forward. Looked into Ava’s eyes. They were alive with vigour. No bloodshot whites, no constricted pupils. The calmness defined her now. She was sitting back, waiting for Alexis to speak, her face barely moving. Withdrawing from dope, she’d been riddled with crippling anxiety, gaze jerking left and right each second, shoulders bouncing up and down, feet tapping the floor. That was all gone, replaced by stillness.

If Alexis had to narrow the change to a single word: peace.

She said, ‘You look good.’

Ava tilted her chin down in humble recognition. ‘I’ve started exercising.’

‘That’s not what I mean.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘You look like you went cold turkey. Like I told you to.’

‘I relapsed,’ Ava said, bowing her head. ‘Right after you left me. I was like an animal trying to get it. I probably would’ve hurled myself at a dealer if they refused me, no matter the consequences. I paid