Down in the Zero

stomped on the brakes, cutting a Brodie in the dirt. A big blond kid vaulted over the side just as a dark BMW sedan pulled in behind.

'Oh fucking shit !' the kid half moaned next to me.

The blond kid muscle–walked over to where we were standing, a brawny, cocky guy, moving with a linebacker's menacing grace.

'Hey, Randy! Heard you were lonely, so I brought you some company.'

'You can't— ' the kid started to say.

The blond cut him off with a chop of his hand. 'Hey! I got it. No problemo, pal. We're just gonna use the upstairs, okay? We're not going near the house, don't get yourself all excited.'

'Not here,' I said, stepping forward.

'Who the fuck are you?' the blond kid asked, head swiveling on a thick neck, giving me a stare that might have frightened a quarterback.

'The caretaker,' I told him. 'Mrs. Cambridge hired me to look after the place while she's away. I'm living there…' jerking my thumb at the upstairs apartment.

'Oh yeah? Then we'll just— '

'Leave.'

The blond kid stepped closer, expanding his chest. He was wearing a loose T–shirt over surfer baggies, barefoot. 'Look, man, you don't…'

I caught his eyes, smelled the beer. Thought about my steel–toed boots and his bare legs, wrapped my hand around the roll of quarters in my pocket. Reminded myself to get off first if he dropped a shoulder…and not to hit him in the head. Feeling how good it would be to hurt him— letting him feel what I felt.

'Nice babysitter your mommy hired for you, Randy,' he sneered. 'Some old dude asshole rent–a–cop.'

Somebody laughed, behind him.

He eye–tested me for about five seconds— as a bully, he was a rank amateur. 'See you around,' he finally said, turning his back on me, climbing into the jeep.

The little white car tore up the driveway on the way out, the silent BMW in its wake.

The kid wasn't overcome with gratitude. 'Now you've fucking done it,' he said, nasty–voiced.

'What's the big deal?' I asked him.

'They'll be back. Nobody says no to Brew…he's an animal.'

'Brew?'

'Brewster Winthrop. He's like the…leader around here.'

'The leader of what?'

'Of…us, I guess. I dunno.'

'What's he do?'

'Do?'

'Yeah. Besides his little drive–bys. Does he work, go to school, what?'

'He's in college. Or he was, anyway. Now he's home.'

'Don't worry about it.'

'That's easy for you to say.'

'Look, kid, it isn't all that important, all right? It bothers you so much, give him a call, tell him to come back and trash the place to the ground. I'll go over to the other house and get some sleep.'

'I can't do that. My mother would…'

'Yeah. Okay. Just let it rest.'

I lit a smoke, feeling the knots in the back of my neck relax.

'You weren't scared of him?' the kid asked.

'No,' I told him.

He gave me a funny look— I let it slide.

We walked back over to the house. 'Maybe I should sleep over the garage tonight,' I said. 'In case your pals make a comeback.'

'No! I mean…I thought you were gonna stay…'

'You can sleep over there too, all right?'

'I don't…I mean, it'll be okay. There's an intercom, anyway.'

'Intercom?'

'I'll show you,' he said over his shoulder, flicking on the stereo in the living room. Soft string music flowed, so faintly I could barely hear it. He walked up the stairs, me right behind. The second floor was bigger than it looked from the outside, four bedrooms, two of them master–size. I followed him to the end of the house. 'This is hers,' he told me, tilting his head in that direction.