No Way Out by Fern Michaels (best books to read for students txt) 📕

there was someone she could relate to. Even if it was just over the phone.

Chapter Eleven

Mitchel had tried to keep his cool the evening Officer Pedone delivered the rest of his clothing. He was very polite to the man, but what he really wanted to do was punch his face in. Delivery boy. And who the hell was she to have a cop bring his clothes? “Yes, Officer. Thank you, Officer.” Mitchel was seething at his own impersonation of Eddie Haskell. He signed the receipt and grabbed the bags. As soon as the officer was out of sight, he went outside and threw them in the trash.

“Hey, Mitch?” his brother, Gregory, yelled from the basement. “What’s up with the cops?” He had seen the police car leave as he looked through the small basement window.

“He was making a delivery. And it wasn’t pizza.” Mitchel was almost spitting, he was so mad.

Gregory climbed the steps, wiping his hands on a towel. “What was that all about?”

“The rest of my stuff.”

“Like what stuff? All your junk from the garage and basement?”

“Nah. Just my clothes.” Mitchel lit up a cigarette.

“Hey, man, you know the rules. No smoking in the house,” Greg reminded him.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Mitchel stomped out the kitchen door and sat on the back step.

“What’s going on, bro?” Gregory was right behind him.

“What’s going on? You’re kidding, right?” Mitchel threw him a look.

“No. I mean I know there’s a lot going on. But what was the visit from the cop all about?”

“I told you. He delivered my clothes.” Mitchel flicked the cigarette butt onto the sidewalk.

Gregory went over and picked it up and put it in the metal ashtray. “See, you do it like this,” Gregory instructed his brother. He was getting worn-out by Mitchel’s attitude, especially since he and his wife, Elaine, were letting him stay there for, well, they didn’t know for how long. But it was becoming apparent the arrangement wasn’t going to last very long. Even after a few days, Elaine was getting annoyed at Mitchel’s sulking, smoking, and drinking.

“Buzz off.” Mitchel went back inside and popped open a can of beer. Greg followed him in.

“Listen, I know this is not easy, but you’re going to have to take control of your emotions.” Gregory had become used to Mitchel’s mood swings. He didn’t like the idea of having to deal with his brother’s emotional state, but at the moment, there wasn’t much he could do other than abandon his brother in his time of need.

“Yeah, right. Control my emotions.” Mitchel took a swig of his beer and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He pointed to the can with his other hand. “This, my brother, is how I control my emotions.” He chugged the rest of the beer, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed another one.

Greg put his arm on his brother’s shoulder. “Maybe you should slow down, eh?”

Mitchel pulled away from Greg violently. “Don’t you be telling me what to do also!”

Greg could see Mitchel’s anger increasing, and he had to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. And especially before Elaine got home. If she saw Mitchel in this frame of mind and on his way to a bender, both men might be out on the street.

“Come on. Let’s go watch some baseball. I just finished putting the new console together for the TV downstairs. I wanna see how it looks from the sofa.” Gregory opened the basement door and gestured for Mitchel to go down.

When Greg and Elaine had bought the house, it had a finished basement that Greg had converted into a game and TV room. He built a bar on one side and arranged a seating area on the other, with a pool table in the middle. It was supposed to be a playroom for the kids they had planned on. But after several attempts, Elaine had been unable to carry a pregnancy to full term, so they gave up on trying to have a family. Elaine sought solace by working at a children’s art center that focused on kids with learning disabilities. Several evenings a week, she would volunteer at the library.

Greg and Elaine had led a relatively quiet life until they opened their home to Mitchel. One of their bedrooms was for guests, another was a den. Elaine was uneasy with Mitchel sleeping in the room next to theirs, so Greg set up an area in the basement where Mitchel could have his privacy and leave them with theirs. He put up a couple of bookcases as a room divider and moved one of the futons over. The only rule was no smoking in the house, a rule that Mitchel seemed to forget every time he lit up.

Mitchel begrudgingly descended the steps to his new temporary home. “How about a round of pool instead?” Before Greg could give him an answer, Mitchel started racking up the balls. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “It ain’t lit,” he said through clenched teeth. He pulled a cue stick and hit the ball with such force it flew off the table.

“Whoa! Easy there!” Greg walked over to where the ball landed and picked it up. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Screw it.” He threw the pool cue on top of the table and headed toward the bar. He pulled out a bottle of scotch and poured himself a large dose.

Greg knew Mitchel had gone beyond the point of reason and decided to leave him alone with his miserable mood. By now, the scotch seemed like a good idea to him as well, so he poured himself two fingers’ worth and headed toward the stairs.

“Where you goin’?” Mitchel was being snarky.

“I need to clean up before Elaine gets home. I promised I’d heat up the manicotti. You want any?”

“Nah. I’m fine.” Mitchel had his back to Greg, and he waved his glass in the air.

“OK. There’s plenty if you change your mind.” Greg knew Mitchel wouldn’t change his mind. He’d