Was he crazy?

“Casey,” I said softly, “I’m not going to San Diego or Tucson. I’ve got a job. An apartment. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was when he really focused on me.

Then he declared, “Yeah you are. You’re comin’ with me.”

It hit me belatedly that his relationship with the mystery Mustang woman had crashed and burned.

“Oh Casey,” I whispered, moving to him, “did you break up with your girl?”

He jerked up his chin, eyes hard, hiding emotion he didn’t want anyone to see but I knew him. He couldn’t hide from me.

“Bitch ousted me. Just like that. Said pack your bags, out tonight. So I packed my bags, I’m out, we’re on the road and this shithole is in our dust.”

I studied him and I saw he wasn’t lying when he talked about her after they met. He liked her. And he was hurt.

“If you guys have had a fight, maybe you should give her a night to cool down. Go see her tomorrow. Talk it out,” I advised.

“Ivey,” he snapped, “you’re not listenin’ to me. We’re gone.”

“Honey, seriously, give her the night.”

“Yeah, give her the night,” he hissed sarcastically then went on in the same vein. “You gonna let me crash on your couch? Oh, I know, your friendly cowboy’ll let me crash at his pad.”

This meant he didn’t have any money.

“Yes, for the night, Casey, I’ll let you crash on my couch,” I offered cautiously at the same time trying to figure out how I’d convince Gray that was an okay idea.

“Fuck that,” he returned. “We’re goin’.”

“Casey, honey, I’m not going and if she means something to you, you shouldn’t either. You should give it a shot, work it out.”

“Relationship advice from my fuckin’ sister,” he muttered.

“Well, yeah, Casey. I know you. I love you. And you’re obviously hurt so I’m looking out for you and advising you should try to work it out.”

He leaned in, his face twisting and spat, “I’m not hurt. Bitch wanted to tie me down. Yammerin’ on every night, ‘Casey, you go to the plant and talk about a job?’ and ‘Casey, darlin’, saw an ad in the paper, sellin’ cars, you’d be good at that.’ Sellin’ cars. Fuckin’ crazy. That’s not me. I tell her that, she doesn’t listen to me just keeps at me with that shit. Fuck that, I’m done.”

At this speech it finally broke through. It dawned crystal clear that for the last month as I started my normal life with my job and my room and my boyfriend in this town, Casey had been going through the money I gave him, Gray gave him and undoubtedly his girl gave him. And no doubt he’d done it stupidly. And she was done giving money to him, feeding him, putting a roof over his head and a pillow under it. He probably promised her he’d step up. He didn’t. And she was done.

“Maybe you should take a second, think about what she said and look into those things, Casey,” I whispered my suggestion. “You don’t know. You might like it. I know I like waitressing. It’s fun. Maybe you’ll like doing something steady too.”

“Are you fuckin’ nuts?” Casey shot back. “This isn’t my life and it isn’t yours. We’re goin’.”

“Okay, if you’ve decided it isn’t your life, that’s fine for you. But it is mine and I’m not going anywhere,” I replied.

“We’re goin’,” Casey repeated.

“You can but I’m not,” I returned.

And that was when he shocked me straight to my core.

Because that was when my brother Casey lost it completely doing something he’d never, ever done to me.

And what he did was grab my arm, dip his face half an inch from mine, shake my arm hard and hiss, “Pack your fuckin’ bags, sis, we… are… goin’.”

Looking into his furious face, feeling his fingers wrapped tight around my arm, hearing Janie whispering probably into a phone behind me, I knew it.

I knew it then.

He needed me.

I understood it before but not in the same way.

He couldn’t make his own way. He couldn’t put gas in his car. He couldn’t feed himself.

Unless he used me.

Used me.

When Gray got angry with his uncle and made his declaration about no one using me, he didn’t mean Uncle Charlie. He meant Casey. He’d barely been around us but he’d seen it even before me.

That was why there were no connections but that rule was just for me. That was why I had to play it safe when he didn’t.

He found his girl who made his heart race; it was okay for me to find whatever I found.

But when he was done so was I.

I was his meal ticket.

I was all he had.

A long time ago, he was all I had. But as we got older, that had shifted. And instead of Casey finding us something safe, something steady, something right, something good and moving us into that kind of life, he was too scared or too dumb or too addicted to the hustle to do that.

And he couldn’t hustle anyone without me.

So he kept me under his thumb and used me.

“Take your hand off me,” I whispered but he didn’t.

His fingers tightened so much the pain magnified and he shook me again, this time my body going with it.

“Not gonna say it again,” he ground out.

I twisted my arm savagely but he was holding on so tight I didn’t get free and it hurt more so I stopped doing it and my voice rose with anger and a little bit of panic when I repeated, “Take your hand off me!”

He shook me again, leaning into me so I had to bend back and shouted, “Get your shit and get in the car!”

I twisted my arm again, it hurt again even more but he still didn’t let go and I shrieked, “Casey, take your hand off me!”

“Dude, do as Ivey says,” Barry, one of the two men (I was right back when I made my guess) who sat hunched with his friend Gene nearly every night at The Rambler was now standing close to Casey and me.

Casey’s neck twisted and he spat, “Stay out of it.”

“Let her go and move back,” Gene ordered, standing to Casey’s other side.

Casey’s neck twisted the other way. “Fuck you!”

“One last shot, dude, you let her go or we make you,” Barry warned and Casey looked back at him.

“Yeah, right, fat ass, like you can do that,” he snarled, lip curled.

“Casey!” I snapped, he looked at me, started to shake me again then Gene put two hands on his shoulders, Barry wrapped one around the wrist of his hand that had hold of me and they both pulled him away from me.

Then it began. Casey tore loose and then went back at them fighting.

“Oh God,” I whispered. “God!” I cried. “Casey! Stop it!” I shouted.

He didn’t stop. He took on Barry and Gene and he underestimated them.

Pure Casey.

They might be big boys but then again they were big boys and there were two of them. Casey had speed and agility but they had bulk and numbers and they got him down on his belly, his arm twisted around his back, Gene’s knee in it for good measure and Barry turned to Janie.

“You call Len?” he asked and she nodded.

“Lenny and Gray,” she confirmed.

I closed my eyes then opened them quickly.

A squirming, infuriated Casey demanded, “Let me up, asshole.”

I got as close as I dared and told my brother, “Casey, Janie’s called the cops and Gray and you do not want to be here when either of them get here. Trust me. If I ask Gene to let you up, will you promise to get out of here quick?”

“Fuck you, you stupid, selfish cunt! Fuck… you!” Casey yelled.

This was a bad idea and it was very, very bad timing.

It was a bad idea because I had gabbed with Barry and Gene on more than one occasion. I saw them nearly every night for a month. I liked them, they liked me and they didn’t like anyone calling me the c-word, even my brother.

And it was bad timing because he said it precisely as Gray stalked into the bar.

So Gene got one second to twist Casey’s arm so brutally he cried out in pain and I feared he’s snap it right off before Gray pushed him aside.

He rolled Casey to his back, jerked him to his feet, pushed him off and invited in a low, rumbling, seriously angry voice, “Let’s do this.”

The last time they went head-to-head, Gray had dumped him right on his behind in the snow but Casey, my stupid, stupid brother, did not hesitate.

And Gray instantly commenced beating the shit out of my brother while I stood straining against the arms of Barry that were holding me back and shouted at them to stop.

They didn’t.

Not until Lenny showed up in uniform, badge on his chest, gun on his hip and he pulled Casey from the hold Gray had on Casey’s collar to keep him steady while he slammed his fist repeatedly in my brother’s face.

Casey went flying, shaking his head, so addled by the blows he didn’t even throw his arms out to catch onto anything.

Lenny planted a hand in Gray’s chest, arm straight, eyes locked to Gray’s and voice growling, “Stand down now, Gray.”

Gray’s chest was rising and falling fast, his jaw was hard, a muscle jerking in his cheek. His eyes were locked on Casey who was swaying and still shaking his head, trying to shake the sense back in.

A fruitless endeavor.

Lenny gave it a minute, holding Gray’s eyes to ascertain he got a lock on it then when he did Lenny stepped back and dropped his arm.

Then he asked the bar at large, “What we got here?What we/r

Peg, the barfly who, like Barry and Gene, was there every night, piped up and apparently, even though she was usually always borderline sloshed, that didn’t mean she couldn’t pay attention.

“That guy came in mouthin’ off at Ivey. She tried to be cool with him. He didn’t listen to a word she said. He got physical, wouldn’t stop, Barry and Gene stepped in, they warned him to stop, he wouldn’t. They got him off her then he called Ivey the c-word and Gray was walkin’ in, heard him and justifiably wailed on him.”