Chapter 2 Amelia

AMELIA

I finish cleaning the last table.

Donnie left an hour ago, and left me the keys to the bar. That means I'll have to wake up early to open up for the cook. It's one in the morning now, so by the time I get home, I'll have around four hours to sleep.

Mom's probably up waiting for me. She never sleeps before I get home even though I already told her not to worry about me. I can take care of myself. But nothing has been the same since Aaron got arrested. She's more paranoid and restless; she calls me every two hours to make sure I'm safe. I don't blame her. His arrest came as a shock to everyone.

I wash my hands in the kitchen and hang my apron. I'm so exhausted I could drop to the floor. My limbs are shaking. I had to scrub and clean the entire bar on my own because Sandy called in sick today. I know for a fact that she wasn't sick. She just wanted to get out of cleaning.

I'm turning the kitchen lights off when I hear someone come in. "We're closed," I say firmly without turning around. This happens usually, people wanting a few drinks in the middle of the night. There's no way I'm letting anyone stay. I have to get home.

"Even for a friend?" The voice sounds familiar and when I whirl around, there's a man sitting on one of the stools. He looks vaguely familiar, but I don't think I've seen him around here before. I would've remembered his face. 

"You're not a friend."

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes. He lights one. "Surely I haven't changed that much? You still look the same."

I frown. "How do you know me?" Then it hits me. His hair used to be in a ponytail, not this slicked back hairstyle. And he didn't have any tattoos back then. He's bulkier and somehow taller. "Devon?"

"Nice to see you too, Amelia."

"You look different. I didn't recognize you." I pause. "You could've just told me who you were."

"I was hoping you'd remember."

"I was eleven when you left. How could I remember?" I approach him and the stench of his cigarette tickles my nostrils. I can't get over how different he looks. He's watching me intently and it makes me uncomfortable. I say something to break the silence. "Your mother's dying to see you."

"I've already seen her. It's you I want to talk to."

"Me?" I don't know what Devon could possibly want to say to me. He used to be Aaron's best friend, so he was always around the house back then. Used to be, because I don't think they're still friends now. After he left, we didn't talk to him, Mom and I rarely spoke to Aaron, and when we did, Devon was never mentioned. I just assumed they stopped talking. Now, he's here, wanting to talk to me.

He shrugs. "Can I get a drink first?"

Despite the fact that it's closing time, I pour him a glass of scotch. And I get him an ashtray because he's messing up what I've already cleaned. I'm midly annoyed at his unexpected visit, especially at this time, but I guess I'll listen to what he has to say. "I can't stay long. My mother's waiting up and I have to get here early tomorrow."

He puffs out smoke. His face has changed remarkably. His jaw is more pronounced and his cheeks are sunken. The dark circles under his eyes are accentuating their color. "I've already been to your house. I guaranteed your mother that I'd take care of you, so I'm guessing she's asleep by now. She told me a bit about how things are going since Aaron was put in jail."

I grit my teeth. "I don't see how this is any of your business."

Despite my sharp tone, he's as calm as ever. "You don't have to be on the defense around me, Amelia. I'm practically family."

"Really? You weren't here when Aaron got arrested, and you didn't help pay for the lawyers. My mother had to put a mortgage on the house. Where were you then? You left and didn't come back. You just send a stupid postcard to your own mother once a year." I don't know why his presence is upsetting to me. I used to look up to him once, but that was long ago. He was different then. He smiled a lot and was supportive. I even had a small crush on him, well, not so small. I was in love with him, but that was ages ago.

He crushes the butt of his cigarette on the ashtray and immediately lights another one. "What if I told you I could take care of everything? Would that interest you?"

I stare at him. "Stop joking around, Devon. Just finish your drink and leave. I have to close up."

"I could get Aaron out of jail, too."

A chill settles deep in my bones. He looks at me the whole time, this man who looks familiar, like the old Devon but doesn't sound like him at all. It takes some time for his words to sink in. "How would you do that?"

"There's something I want you to do for me. It's dangerous, but I think you can handle it. All you have to do is say yes and this will all be taken care of."

I stare at his face-the face of the man I haven't seen since my brother left our lives-and ask myself if I should even trust him. Devon reeks trouble; always has. But the thought of my brother getting out of jail...it's too tempting for me to dismiss it. 

"What job?" These words are leaving my mouth but not sinking in. I feel hollow and numb. I haven't slept in 22 hours and here comes this man, offering me the solution to all my problems. 

Am I dreaming?