After, they all joined up back in the living room and commenced to partying group-style. The girls got down to panties and brassieres, which they no doubt thought was sexy, but to Sonny’s mind just exposed Ashley’s fat and Cheyenne’s birdlike build and acned back. Wayne had his shirt off, showing off his wiry frame, not an ounce of body fat on that boy at all. They were all doing the crystal except for Sonny, with Wayne pounding Silver Bullets behind the speckled white. Wayne had no bottom for beer when he did meth. Ashley and Cheyenne found a colored station on the radio they liked, and both of them were rapping together to what passed for a song these days, and they got up and did some kind of jungle-jump to it as Wayne clapped out of time and shouted them on. Eventually Wayne and Cheyenne went back into the bedroom, and Ashley drifted off, lit some candles, and drew herself a bath. Sonny took a nap.
When he woke up, the house was quiet. He fixed a drink and went outside and saw that the Mercury was gone. He had a seat on the stoop and as night came he thought of his situation and what would come next.
He tried to envision his future, but nothing came to mind.
It occurred to him that he was where he wanted to be. A lifetime of incarceration, starting at the boys’ detention center in Sabillasville, continuing on through several adult facilities, leading to the last, the federal joint in Lewisburg. All that schooling, and what he learned was: Live in the now. Take what you want, have no dreams, ride free. Like it said in the song by that wild country boy he loved: There are those that break and bend / I’m the other kind.
His cell phone rang. Sonny flipped it open and answered the call. When he was done talking, he put the cell back in his pocket and nodded tightly.
The Mercury pulled up in front of the house. Wayne got out, carrying a bunch of supermarket daisies, and crept across the yard. He stood in front of Sonny and head-shook his center-parted hair.
“You got that look,” said Wayne. “Somethin’s happenin.”
“Outta the blue, I just got a call from some coon. Said he had my money and was lookin to give it back.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Only Chris Carpet has my number. From the caller ID. So he’s got a partner.”
“You think it’s a trap? Maybe he called the law.”
“He didn’t even call out for the patrol car when it passed by his yard last night, and that was life and death. He ain’t that type.”
Wayne grinned and his face folded in upon itself. “So it’s on.”
“I reckon. Whoever I spoke to is gonna phone me tomorrow and tell me when and where.”
“Huh,” said Wayne.
“What are the flowers for?”
“They’re for my girl.”
“Your girl? We paid that little heifer to fuck you, son.”
“She’s a nice young lady.”
“She stinks.”
“Watch what you say.”
“She stinks like a menstruatin polecat.”
“Your mother does,” said Wayne.
Sonny snorted as Wayne slipped into the house.
Not much later, an old Honda coupe stopped on the street and a white boy got out of it. He walked gingerly toward Sonny. He was overweight and had long hair and a black T-shirt stretched tight over an hourglass figure. He stopped in front of the stoop where Sonny still sat.
“Who are you?” said the boy.
“Friend of Ashley’s. You?”
“Chuck. I live here.”
“So?”
The boy named Chuck tried to hold Sonny’s gaze, but he could not. His shoulders slumped and he stepped carefully around the big man, opened the door to his place, and walked inside.
Sonny smiled.
TWENTY-SIX
Chris Flynn sat shirtless on the edge of his bed and used one hand to pop the joints of the other. He had turned off his cell and had no landline, but now there was an incessant knocking on his apartment door. His van was on the street, so he couldn’t pretend that he was not at home. He walked to the door and opened it. Katherine stood in the hall. She was lovely and agitated. Angry even, for her.
“You don’t want to see me?”
“I do,” said Chris. “Come in.”
He stepped aside to let her pass. She came into the apartment and he followed her to the living room.
“You want a beer, somethin?”
“No, I don’t want anything.”
Chris pointed to a chair. “Sit down.”
She sat, and Chris took a seat beside her.
“What’s going on with you?” said Katherine.
“I need to be alone, is all.”
“Your eyes are dead.”
“It’s because of Ben. I’m all fucked up behind it.”
“Something’s happening with you and it goes beyond Ben’s death. I need to know what it is. You’ve never shut me out like this before.”
Chris stared down at the hardwood floor. Katherine had him. They were going to be together forever, and she was the one he could talk to. She was a piece of him and she wouldn’t do him wrong. He looked her in the eyes.
“It is about Ben,” said Chris. “I know who killed him.”
“ How do you know?” said Katherine carefully.
“It was two men. They came to visit me, right here in my backyard. They killed Ben over the money that we left in that house. It was theirs. They must have tried to get Ben to talk about who took it.”
“Do you know who took it?”
“A guy named Lawrence. We were locked up with him at Pine Ridge. Ben got drunk and told Lawrence about the money, and Lawrence went back and stole it. The two men strong-armed the lady who owns the house. That led them to Ben, and me.”
“And this Lawrence. He still has the money.”
“Yes.”
“If you know who these men are, why haven’t you called the police?”
Chris looked away.
“Chris.”
“I’m not gonna do that,” said Chris, his voice hoarse. “Me and Lawrence, we’re gonna take care of this ourselves.”
Katherine got up abruptly and went to the kitchen. She stood over the sink and cupped her hand and ran water into it, drank while the other hand held her strawberry blonde hair back behind her head. Chris watched her splash her face with water. She reentered the room, walking with purpose. Her cheeks were flushed and brightly freckled, and her green eyes were wildly flared. She sat beside him and grasped his hand.
“Say what you’re going to do, Chris. Not that jailhouse bullshit talk, either. When you say you’re going to take care of it, what are you talking about? Murder?”
“It’s the only way.”
“What about an arrest and conviction? The right way. The way that doesn’t make you a killer and a candidate for prison.”
“I can’t. Ben didn’t give me or Lawrence up. Ben stood tall-”
“ Stop it.” Katherine squeezed his hand tightly. “Listen to what you’re saying. This isn’t you, Chris.”
“There’s two of me,” said Chris. “There’s the person you think you know, and the one who’s still inside me. The boy who did dirt and got schooled in that jail. The one you never met.”
“I’m in love with the one I met. I could never love someone who deliberately took a life, not when there was a more reasonable option. I couldn’t be with him or have his child. Do you understand that?”
“Yes. But I got to do this.” He held her hand tightly. “Stay with me tonight.”
Katherine pulled her hand back and stood out of the chair. She looked down at him and her lip quivered, but she held on and turned and stepped away. She headed for the door.
“Don’t tell my father,” said Chris.
Katherine left the apartment, shutting the door behind her without another word.
She drove straight to the Flynn home on Livingston Street. She cried on the way there but put herself back together before she arrived. After Flynn opened the door, Django bumped against her excitedly and followed her steps closely as she came into the house. Flynn was talking to her, but she was not responding, and he could only go with her, out the back door, onto the deck overlooking the yard. Flynn shut the door, leaving Django on the other side of the glass.