Thad’s hand and then he did something I’d never seen before or even imagined. He shifted that gun around and aimed it right at the side of his own head.
We didn’t scare easily, me and Bernie, but we were scared now. I could see it on Bernie’s face, and as for me, I was terrified, terrified for the very first time in my life, my heart beating so hard in my chest I almost couldn’t stand it.
“Don’t,” Bernie said, closer now. “Nothing’s that bad.”
Thad, his eyes still on Bernie, said, “Fuck you. Fuck them all.”
I was already moving, had possibly been moving from the moment Thad had drawn down on Bernie. I zoomed over a low cactus, got my legs under me, and launched myself. Thad saw me at the last instant, and then came a dust cloud, the crack of gunfire, and a shot ricocheting off a nearby rock. KA-ZING! I got a good hold on Thad’s wrist, tasted his blood. He yelled something I missed and the gun fell to the ground. Bernie ran up and grabbed it.
“Let him go, big guy.”
SEVENTEEN
And I was going to let Thad go, no question about it, if not now then real soon, but before I could, I felt a sharp jab in my side, too sharp to ignore. I spun around and there in the dust, back way up and teeth bared, stood Brando, his golden eyes full of hate. He hissed at me-that horrible hiss cats have in their repertoire-in case I was missing the point about how he felt about me. Guess what. I felt the same for him, or maybe even more so. Hot rage boiled up in me-kind of a great feeling, I admit it-and I lunged at Brando, snarling my fiercest snarl, the one where spit sprays out of my mouth. And then Ow. That hurt. And so quick! Brando had swiped one of his claws right across my muzzle? That was what must have happened-too fast to see, but I figured it out from the way he was poised in front of me, one paw raised, still hissing. I licked my muzzle, tasted blood, my own, and decided to think things over. Sometimes I thought better if I had more space. That was the only reason I backed up a bit.
Meanwhile, Bernie was kneeling on the ground, turning Thad over on his back. Thad’s eyes were closed. Bernie stuck the gun in his belt and placed a finger on Thad’s neck.
“Thad? You all right?”
Thad’s eyes fluttered open, big, blue, empty.
“Thad? Say something.”
His eyes stopped being empty, got unfriendly instead. “Fuck off,” he said.
Bernie let him go. Thad wobbled, started to tip over, then stuck out his arm and caught himself.
“What are you staring at?” Thad said.
Bernie rose. “You’ve got coke all over your face,” he said.
Thad wiped his face on the back of his sleeve, leaving a white smear on the material. He gazed at it, the look in his eyes changing from unfriendly to more like he’d just felt a pain inside.
“What’s going on with you?” Bernie said. “What’s the story?”
“Nothing,” said Thad, eyes downcast. “Nada, zip, zilch.”
Bernie pointed to the markings Thad had made in the dirt. “What about that-‘April Sorry’?”
Thad’s gaze slowly shifted to the markings. Then, in a clumsy kind of way but not slow, he lunged forward, almost a fall, and rubbed out the markings with his hand, rubbing and rubbing wildly. After that, he turned to Bernie as though he’d just beaten him at something. Thad’s eyes were amazing: they told so much all by themselves.
“You think I won’t be able to remember ‘April Sorry’?” Bernie said. Thad didn’t reply. “Did something happen in April?”
Thad smiled, now lying facedown on the stony dirt. There was something horrible about that smile, hard to explain. “Yeah,” he said, “something happened in April.”
“What?” said Bernie.
“Spring came,” Thad said. “All the blossoms, shit like that.”
Bernie looked down at him. “I can help you.”
“That’s what everybody says,” Thad said. “Everybody wants to do me favors.”
“I didn’t say anything about favors,” Bernie said.
“Makes you unique.” Thad pushed himself up, back into a sitting position.
“Think you can get up?” Bernie extended his hand.
Thad ignored it. “When I want. When and if.” At that moment, Brando glided forward and curled up in Thad’s lap. Thad’s hand moved, kind of on its own, if that makes any sense, and settled on Brando’s furry back. Brando’s eyes closed.
“You came up to see the rock carving?” Bernie said.
“Any law against that?”
“And what else did you have in mind?”
“Nothing. Nada, zip, zilch.”
“Where’d you get the gun?”
“Sources.”
“Jiggs, by any chance?”
“Don’t pick on ol’ Jiggsy-he’s just doing his job.”
“Giving you a gun’s doing his job?” Bernie said. “I thought he was supposed to protect you.”
“Think what you want,” said Thad. He looked up at Bernie and maybe didn’t like the expression on Bernie’s face-although I sure did-because he said, “I’ve got this urge to paste you in the mouth.”
“How did that work out the last time?” Bernie said.
Thad tilted up his chin. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“Not afraid of anybody.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Bernie said. “What about Manny Chavez, for example? Were you afraid of him?”
Thad’s hand, which had been stroking Brando’s back, went still. Brando opened his eyes. “Name means nothing to me,” Thad said.
“How about Ramon? That ring a bell?”
Thad started stroking Brando again. “Sure,” he said. “Ramon Novarro, silent star of the silver screen, although not my role model.”
“Are you gay, Thad? Is that what this is all about?”
“Guess again.”
Bernie shook his head and walked away. I walked with him.
“On your way to sell me out?” Thad called after him.
Bernie turned. “Sell you out?”
“Peddle me to the gossip rags,” Thad said.
“Why would I do that?”
“For the money, for Christ sake. Are you stupid?”
“Must be it,” Bernie said.
Huh? I was totally lost, Bernie always being the smartest human in the room. But for some reason, I wasn’t angry at Thad, actually felt bad on account of all these things going on inside him, not including the fact that he was about to puke anytime now; I could smell it coming.
Meanwhile, Bernie was saying something about Thad’s car. Thad pointed down the slope, off to one side.
“Who do you want to come get you?” Bernie said.
“Flights of angels,” said Thad.
And then he leaned sideways-holding Brando as far away as possible-and got the puking out of the way.
“The choices,” said Bernie, “are Felicity, Nan, or Jiggs.”
Thad sat up straight, panting a bit. For a moment there was no color on his face at all. Brando rose, walked over to the tree, and lay in the shade, his eyes on me.
