Down in the Zero

'Can you get hurt doing it?'

'Nah. You could spin out, that's the worst. They make you wear a helmet, that's all.'

'You really want to do it?'

'Yeah! Big–time. It would be— '

'Okay.'

'You mean it?'

'Sure.'

'Great! We could drive over early, get in a couple of practice laps, then we could— '

'Hold up, kid. What's this 'we' stuff?'

'I just thought…seeing how it's your car and all, you'd want to…'

I watched his face, seeing how different it looked from when I first met him. Thinking about why kids kill themselves. 'Good idea,' I said. 'Let's do it.'

'Gardens,' Mama answered the phone like always.

'It's me. You hear anything from Michelle?'

'Yes. She say, take Mole longer to read what you show him.'

'Longer than what?'

'I don't know. You ask, okay?'

'Okay. Anything else going on?'

'Very quiet. You?'

'I'm not sure.'

'Very pretty stones,' Mama said. 'Look careful.'

I learned to sleep in chunks a long time ago. Grab it when you can. I know that REM is the true deep sleep, the only kind that restores you. That's where you dream. I don't remember most of my dreams— it's one of the few things in my life I'm grateful for.

It was after eleven when I came around. I took a shower, thought about shaving again, decided the hell with it. I listened to some music while I was getting dressed in the outfit Michelle bought for me. The broken blank eye of the television stared at me— I guess I really only watch it with Pansy— she loves it.

I held my pistol in my hand, turning it over like it would tell me something. I couldn't leave it in the Plymouth with the kid driving it around, and there was no good place in the Lexus to stash it either. Finally, I just wiped it down, wrapped it in a sheet of heavy plastic and put it inside the toilet tank. It wasn't a world–class stash, but even if someone turned it up, it wouldn't connect to me. The piece was ice–cold— came right off the assembly line at the factory, never went through a dealer's hands. The serial number would never have been registered. I got it from Jacques, Clarence's old boss. Specialty of the house, guaranteed not to alert any law enforcement computer. If they found it, they'd have a hell of a time proving it didn't belong to whoever stayed here before me.

Fancy's house was in the same neighborhood as Cherry's, that's what she said, anyway. The same neighborhood turned out to be about five miles away— people measure differently out here. I found it easy enough: a big modernistic spread, all redwood and glass in front. It was midnight plus two when I pulled into the long drive. I angled the Lexus toward a long, wide building that looked like a six–car garage…where she'd told me to park. The doors were closed. I opened the car door and stepped out, getting my bearings.

'You're late,' a voice said from the darkness. Fancy. In a pale blue T–shirt that draped to mid–thigh, standing barefoot a few feet away. She stepped forward, no real expression on her face.

'Come with me,' she said, turning to walk away.

I followed her along a slate path around the back of the garage, past an Olympic–size swimming pool glowing a muted gold from underwater lights. The big house was to our left, but Fancy moved in the opposite direction, past a low structure that looked to be all glass.

'Is that a greenhouse?' I asked her.

'No, that's the pool house. Where people change into their bathing suits before they swim.'

'It looks too big for just that.'

She made a face over her shoulder, kept walking. One more turn and we were facing three little houses standing in a triangle maybe a hundred feet along each line. Two were dark; one had a soft orange light glowing next to the door. As we walked closer, I could see it was some kind of Japanese paper lantern over a bulb.

Fancy opened that door, stepped inside. 'Over there,' she said, pointing to a long white leather couch.

I sat down. Fancy went to the far corner of the room, did something with her hand, and a small cone of light hit the dark carpet. I could see it was a long black floor lamp with a gooseneck top bent toward the floor. Fancy stood watching the light for a second, hands on hips. Satisfied, she turned and came over to the couch. She sat, then curled her legs under her, turning so she was facing me.

'Could we start over?' she asked.

'Why?'

'You liked me when you first saw me. You did, didn't you?'

'Yeah, I did.'

'How come?'