I started early, well before old man dawn even put on his surgical socks, and so a small cup of coffee was simply not going to do it for me. Grande or venti? What about big? Whatever happened to just plain big? Give me something big, I said to the barista, who was not young, pierced, and rude but was fat, Greek, and rude, who worked the counter of my diner, and who would have punched me in the face if I called him a barista. Something big, I had said, and now I was paying for it.
I jiggled my leg, thought about dry things, kept my eye on the door beside Tommy’s High Ball on Daniel Rose’s West Philly street. I was parked across from his building and down a bit, in front of a still-closed bodega. Nothing had yet gone in or out that door, but I knew, I just knew, that the instant I left that street to empty the soggy, storm-tossed sea that was my bladder, the door would open, the mark would exit, the morning would be lost. So I waited and watched and jiggled my leg and thought of desert sands, of camels and Bedouins, of all manner of desiccated things. Which was when I started comparing the dawn to Horace T. Grant.
I wasn’t good at this, I was not the patient type, I wanted to go home and pee, but Julia Rose had said her boyfriend had moved out. I didn’t believe her, and I didn’t believe that she was lying because she wanted to. She was lying because someone else wanted her to lie. Daniel had said his name was Randy. Julia had said Randy didn’t want to be involved. But he was already, wasn’t he? If I was going to get a grip on Daniel’s situation, I needed to learn what I could about Randy. His workplace was a start. Hence my stakeout.
It was a little after seven-thirty when the door beside Tommy’s High Ball finally opened. The man who came out was medium height, thick-shouldered, with glasses and short blond hair. He wore a blue work shirt with a name stitched over the pocket and matching blue pants.
Outside, standing now in front of the door, legs spread, he shook a cigarette from a crushed pack, lit it, inhaled, picked a piece of tobacco from his teeth.
I slumped low in the car. The man exhaled through his nose. There was something dangerous about the way he held himself, in his big hands, in the two violent streams of smoke. He looked left, looked right, looked at me. And then he headed my way.
I slumped lower. My knees hit the dashboard. He kept coming.
I was trying to slink all the way beneath the seat when he knocked on the roof of my car.
I looked up through the window.
He smiled. “Hi,” he said.
I waved back, sat up straight, opened the door so we could talk.
“Is there a problem?” he said.
“No, no problem. Just sitting here, in front of the store, waiting for a friend.”
“The store’s closed,” he said.
“Then it might be a while.”
“I’ve been watching out my window,” he said, still smiling. “You been here for over an hour.”
“Has it been that long?”
He pulled the door farther open. “Why don’t you step on out for a moment.”
“I’m fine.”
“There are kids in this neighborhood, mister,” he said. “We don’t need perverts hanging around.”
“I’m not a pervert.”
“Then why’s your leg shaking like that?”
“I have to pee.”
He looked in the car, saw the blue paper coffee cup sitting in the cup holder. “You should have gotten the small.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Just get on out,” he said, and I did. I gave him a close look as I stood before him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. He was still smiling, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. He had big teeth. The name stitched on his shirt was RANDY, the store name on the other breast was WILSON PLUMBING SUPPLY.
“We got a quiet neighborhood here,” he said. “Lots of families, children. We look out for one another. We don’t like strangers with shaky legs hanging around. Give me your license so I can tell the police your name if I see you around here again.”
“My name’s Victor Carl,” I said.
His smile faltered for just a second, just long enough for me to know he recognized it.
“That’s right,” I said. “I’m Daniel’s attorney. And who I was waiting for, actually, Randy, was you. Do you have a moment?”
He leaned forward and then smiled again. “No,” he said. “I have to get to work.”
“You want a lift?”
“I’ll take the bus.”
“No, really. It won’t be a problem. I’m very impressed with you acting to protect the neighborhood. It gives me more confidence about Daniel’s situation.”
He turned his head, looked at me sideways. “I’m just doing my part.”
“You sound like you know how to handle yourself. Do you have a law-enforcement background?”
“I’ve had some experience.” Pause. “I was in the army.”
“It shows. Let me give you a lift.”
He thought about it for a moment, glanced up at the window of his apartment, made his calculations. “Sure.”
I stepped away from the open door and gestured him inside. “We’ll stop for coffee. You know a place near here?”
“A couple.”
“Good, but let’s find one with a pot.”
29
“You don’t need to be worrying about Daniel,” said Randy Fleer – that was his full name, I learned – as I drove him to the warehouse in Northeast Philadelphia where he worked. “I’ll take care of him. Julia, sure, she’s a bit, well, yeah, right. I understand why the judge might have had concerns with just her around. But I’ll take care of Daniel now on in. He’s a good little guy, just needed a man in his life. And here I am, so he don’t really need you no more.”
“That’s good to know, Randy,” I said. “But I’m a little curious as to why you told Julia she should keep your name out of our discussions.”
“She tell you I told her that?”
“It was pretty clear, the way she was acting. And she said you weren’t together anymore.”
“But you didn’t believe her.”
“No.”
“Only woman I ever met who couldn’t lie worth beans. Listen, I work. I got this job at Wilson’s, and sometimes I help out a buddy who does contracting work. Drywall and stuff. I don’t have time to sit all day waiting for some judge to tell me how I should be dealing with that boy. And even with all I’m working, I can’t afford health care for us now. That’s how come Julia and me, we aren’t married yet. She’s still on the state health-care program for herself and Daniel. I heard if they knew I was living with them, they’d kick them off.”
“Are you living with them?”
“Off and on.”
“Do you have a place of your own?”
“Not right now. It doesn’t make sense, what with the money for rent they charge, even in that dump Julia’s living in now, over the bar. But I have plans for us, for the three of us. As soon as I pay off some debt and get ahead of the game, I want to buy us a house. There’s a nice neighborhood in Mayfair where some buddies from work live. I know what Daniel needs. I want us to be a family, I do. He deserves that. A boy deserves the right kind of family.”
“There are things Julia has to do for Daniel,” I said. “The judge has ordered her to attend certain classes, to show up at the hearings, and to take him to the doctor. And she has to do something about his teeth.”
“They’re a mess, aren’t they? She spoils him. Her idea of raising a kid is to give him a taffy and leave him in front of the television. And at night he sleeps with a bottle in his mouth.”
“Is that good for him?”
“It keeps him calm.”
“Can you make sure she takes him to the dentist?”
“I don’t know if the program she’s on covers tooth stuff. It’s just his baby teeth anyways.”
“If I find you a dentist who will look at him without charging, will you make sure she takes him?”
“Sure, of course. Yeah. And I’ll make sure of the other stuff, too. I’ve always wanted to have a son, someone to throw the football with, to watch the games with. Daniel’s my chance, and I mean to do it right. You should see him run. Like the wind. He could be something. He’s a good kid. I’ll take charge of him.”