Books: "What They Did" By Rio Youers

 

What They Did

By Rio Youers

William Morrow; hardcover; $32.00

Rio Youers is the British Fantasy and Sunburst Award-nominated author of The Bang-Bang Sisters, Lola on Fire, and No Second Chances. He is the writer of Sleeping Beauties, a comic book series that's based on the bestselling novel by Stephen King and Owen King. His 2017 thriller, The Forgotten Girl, was a finalist for the Arthur Ellis Award for Best Crime Novel.

What They Did is Youers' latest novel, a story centered on a dark, deadly secret between two friends that tears them apart before they reunite years later. That forces them to confront what happened that night or lose everything.

Carly Rivers and Dana Lee were best friends when they were younger, and like fire and water, they balanced each other out. Dana was the one to keep them wild, while Carly kept them safe.

That, of course, was until an irreversible tragedy. To this day, neither has spoken of what happened. This terrible secret led them to take different paths, each hoping to leave this darkness behind.

Carly becomes a police officer in Florida, with a beautiful husband and son, living in a wonderful house. Dana went the other way, as she went through a string of bad relationships before heading to Black Ash, Michigan, working for the notorious meth dealer Warner Prince.

This story is full of action and suspense, with emotion at its core, as well as one of fierce friendship, family bonds, and the extremes we go to keep our loved ones safe.

In this excerpt, Younes writes about a moment when Carly and Dana are in Avon Hill, New Jersey, in 2001: "Are you sure about this guy?"

"When can we ever be sure about someone? Especially a guy?"

"I don't know. It's just...it's that feeling. Do you find yourself thinking about him all the time? Do you go a little weak at the knees when he's around?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I-"

"You've been watching too much 90210."

Carly laughed and held up one hand. You got me there.

"I don't know what to tell you. I like the way he dresses. I like the way he smells. And he rides a motorcycle."

"A motorcycle. Right. Okay, but does he come from a decent family? Does he have a good job? Has he ever been to prison?" 

"Jesus, Carly. I'm not looking for the father of my children. I just want to have some fun."

June 8, 2001. A perfect Friday morning. Ninety degrees and still climbing, the kind of day that Dana's Irish father would call "cruel warm." The sunshine was everywhere. It splashed across the rooftops and storefronts and coated the ground with a dense, airless heat. Coolly clad pedestrians dotted Main Street. The patios outside the bars and restaurants were filled with people enjoying cold summer drinks, fanning themselves with menus. Air conditioners worked hard and dripped.

"You never know," Dana said, with a shimmer in her eyes that was both naughty and nice. "This could be the summer of love."

"And you say I've been watching 90210."

They drove along Main Street, every window rolled down, the radio tuned to 95.5 WPLJ. "Follow Me" by Uncle Kracker boomed from the speakers. Dana's Chevy Corsica was not up to much. Its dashboard was cracked, the air-con didn't blow cold, and the shocks needed replacing. There was nothing wrong with the stereo system, though. Dana's older brother, Michael, had bought it hot and installed it for the low-low price of twenty dollars. The subwoofer on the back shelf turned the car into a rolling earthquake. It was - to quote Conor, Dana's younger brother - da bomb.

"Just be careful," Carly said. She lifted her sunglasses to wipe sweat from beneath her eyes, then waved to someone in the street. Avon Hill's population was steadily increasing - mostly New Yorkers discovering its natural beauty, love real estate prices, and commutability - but it was still small enough to see a familiar face on nearly every corner. A red, white, and blue banner over Main Street lauded the city's "renowned neighborliness" and "village vibes."  The higher-than-average crime rate was not so colorfully communicated.

"Being careful is overrated," Dana said. As if to prove this, she changed lanes without checking her mirrors or using her turn signals. "Everything is more fun when you test your boundaries."

Carly had become used to this way of thinking. It had been Dana's idea, at age fourteen, to steal two bottles of Old Milwaukee from her old man's beer fridge and drink them beneath the Route 19 overpass. Later that year, Dana had purloined a joint from her brother's underwear drawer, which she and Carly had half smoked, spluttering and wheezing, on their walk home from school. It had been Dana's idea to kiss each other on the lips just to see if they were any good at it. She'd also suggested R-rated movies, riding in cars with boys, a Ouija-board sleepover, and a blood-sisters ceremony. (Carly had diplomatically declined on that occasion, arguing that swapping friendship bracelets was ceremony enough.)

They turned right on Oak Street and drove past the Grapevine Bar, where Dana's old man did most of his drinking, and Mount Moriah Baptist Church, where Carly's parents did most of their praying. Dana drummed the wheel in time with Uncle Kracker. Carly sang the choruses, one bare foot drawn up onto the seat. Oak Street moved at an easy pace. Nobody was in a hurry. The heat - and the fact that it was Friday - had slowed everything down: Island time in the heart of New Jersey.