Down in the Zero

always did that. It was them she meant, I think. But I know what she said. If anybody makes me scared, I should call you.'

'Did that ever happen?'

'No, not…really. But my mother thought it might, I could tell. I was in her room once, just playing around. I found a maid's outfit. You know, like a black dress with a white apron? I thought it was Rosemary's. She was the maid we had then. From Ireland. So I put it in her room, on the bed. My mother saw it there. I heard her yell for Rosemary. When Rosemary came upstairs, I hid. I was scared, my mother sounded so mad. She asked Rosemary why she took the outfit. Rosemary said she didn't, and my mother slapped her. Right across the face. She told Rosemary to put it back in her room. Then when Rosemary came back, my mother slapped her again. I never told her it was me.

'It was a long time ago,' I said. 'Don't worry about it.'

'My mother asked me later, did Rosemary ever do anything to me? Like…punish me or something. I told her no, Rosemary never did that. That's when she said the thing about calling you, the first time.'

I played with my cigarette, letting him drive his own car.

'When I called you, I was scared. Like something was gonna happen, but I didn't know what.'

'The suicides?'

'I guess so. There's…something else too. I can't tell you. But I knew if you were around, it wouldn't happen.'

'That kid Brew?'

'No!' he snorted a laugh. 'Not him. Anyway, when I started to…do stuff with you, I thought I could…maybe help, I don't know. I don't smoke dope anymore,' he said, looking straight across at me, eyes clear. 'I don't booze either. And I'm not gonna tank, next time they have a party. I want to do…something.'

'Drive?'

'Yes! When I drive, it's like I'm the car. It feels…connected. I don't know. You think I'm crazy, don't you?'

'No. No, I don't. All the great drivers, that's the way they talk about it…like it's all one piece.'

'Did you know any? Great drivers, I mean.'

I couldn't tell him. I started to lose it for a second, but I reached down and grabbed hold. I fussed with a cigarette until I had it under control. 'I did time with one of them,' I told the kid. 'Long time ago. He was a great, great wheelman. Drove on some of the biggest hijacks in the country, bank jobs too. The Prof knew him better than me, but I talked a lot to him too.'

'You mean like a getaway driver?'

'More than that, kid. He was stand–up, see? No matter what happened inside, Petey wouldn't leave you there. He'd be waiting at the curb when you came out.'

'But when he drove…'

'Driving, that's only a small piece of it. I had this pal once, Easy Eddie. One time we were out riding, nothing special. But what he didn't tell me, he was holding dope. Heavy weight. And we got stopped. Now it worked out okay— the cops never saw it.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. But if they had, it would have been Kaddish. Easy Eddie and me, we were as close as brothers. He was a stand–up guy. He didn't mean any harm— never thought about getting me in trouble. If we'd gone down for the dope, he would have taken the whole weight.'

So?'

'So he was real sorry about what happened. And I never rode with him again.'

Randy's face changed colors as it hit him. 'I get it,' he said.

'Do you?' I asked. 'Here's what a guy told me when I was just coming up. About working in a crew. You can't be counted on, you can't be counted in, understand?'

'Yes.'

'Being a wheelman, it's not just about driving, Randy. Next time I tell you to stay someplace, you do it. Okay?'

'I will,' he said, a bit of steel under the softness of his voice.

I had plenty of time before Fancy. 'I need to make a phone call,' I told the kid. 'Want to drive me?'

'Sure,' he said, starting for the Plymouth like there was no other choice. He didn't say anything about there being plenty of phones in the house— maybe he was a faster learner than I thought.

'Where to?' he asked, adjusting the rearview mirror, rocking gently back and forth in the driver's seat, getting the feel.

'What I need is a pay phone, all right? An outdoor phone, if you know where one is.'

'There's some on the highway. In case someone has a breakdown.'

'Let's ride.'

He pulled out of the driveway without spinning the rear wheels, nursing the throttle, but as soon as we hit pavement he dropped the hammer, road–running at double the speed limit.

'Back it off,' I told him. 'The trick to driving, the real trick, you got to blend, understand? Any fool can drive fast— the game is to drive fast smooth, see? Especially in