his bones were bruised enough already and said, 'I guess maybe one game wouldn't hurt.'
– The white van was parked near Sally's Diner, across the street from Creek Side Park. Needles and Beeks watched in silence as Michael walked Aaron across the street on their way to his loft.
Chapter 8
Willy Abbott jumped off his bike and bounded up the steps to Aaron's apartment — leaving his beach cruiser to ghost down the block a few yards, where it bounced off a bus bench and crashed to the sidewalk.
Fortunately for Willy, Tom had long since passed out, and Aaron's mom answered the doorbell. Willy did a double take — he hadn't seen Aaron's mom in a while and had forgotten how pretty she was. He noticed a bruise below her right eye that she'd obviously tried to cover with makeup.
'Hello, Mrs. Quinn,' he said. 'Aaron's not home by any chance, is he?'
'Oh — hi, Willy,' she said, looking past him into the street. 'I was hoping he was with you. He left on his bike during dinner and hasn't come home.'
She checked her watch. 9:45 p.m.
'I'm starting to worry,' she said, and then her heart was lifted by an idea. 'What about your grandparents? Maybe they've heard from him.'
Willy shook his head sadly. 'Sorry, Mrs. Quinn,' he said. 'They wouldn't know it if Aaron walked in the house and sat on the couch with them.'
Ashley cringed. 'I'm sorry, Willy,' she said. 'Aaron never tells me anything.'
Willy wasn't surprised — Aaron never told him anything either.
'I'd better go,' he said. 'I'm sure he'll show up.' He was fibbing about the last part, but he hoped like everything it was true. He turned and trotted down the steps.
I hope you're right, Ashley said to herself, watching him leave. She liked Willy — he was always the perfect little gentleman. She called after him. 'If you see him, send him home right away, okay?'
'Will do,' Willy said, then with a little wave, 'Good night, Mrs. Quinn.'
Chapter 9
The ancient, cage-style freight-elevator rattled its way toward the top floor of Michael's apartment building. Aaron grinned as pipes and cables rushed past his face, giving him an exhilarating sense of speed.
'This old elevator sold me on the property,' Michael said. 'My dad had one in the mill where he worked, and he'd let me ride it whenever I visited.'
The cage jerked to a stop. Michael pulled on an oiled leather strap, raising the wooden gate that served as a door.
The elevator opened onto a spacious rooftop garden and a long, brick walkway canopied by a yachting-blue awning hung on heavy, polished-brass arches. The walkway was flanked by stone benches and large pots full of fresh flowers and lead to an exquisite pair of huge, hand-tooled copper doors.
Aaron stopped to check them out. The doors depicted a magnificent horse.
'That's Leonardo Da Vinci's Gran Cavallo,' Michael explained, 'the magnificent, twenty-four foot high clay equestrian model he completed in 1492. I found the doors in Milan and had them shipped back here by boat.'
'I can't believe I've never heard of that,' Aaron said, running his fingers over the highly detailed copper relief. He had read many accounts of Da Vinci's life, but none had mentioned this.
'It's an amazing story,' Michael said. 'The Gran Cavallo was one of Da Vinci's greatest and most unknown masterpieces. Seventy tons of bronze were set aside for the casting of that horse, but before De Vinci could use it, the precious bronze was sent off and used to make cannons. Then, in 1499, during France's invasion of Italy, French archers used Leonardo's beautiful clay model for target practice, dashing Da Vinci's hope of ever having it cast in bronze, and breaking his heart in the process.'
He keyed in the entry alarm code and invited Aaron into his loft with a chivalrous bow and wave of his arm.
'That's an unbelievable story,' Aaron said as he stepped through the doors. 'To have something that is such a huge part of your life destroyed like that. It's sad.'
Michael could relate. 'It's very sad,' he agreed.
Chapter 10
Aaron's eyes went wide; never in his wildest dreams had he imagined living anywhere as cool as Michael's outrageous loft apartment. He stood in the entry area craning up at the high ceilings and admiring the eclectic blend of fine original artwork mixed with movie and exotic-car posters.
Next to him, from high in the rafters, a broad sheet of clear water flowed down the face of a polished travertine wall before disappearing into the floor. He poked his finger into the silvery fluid, creating a tiny arcing wave.
The loft was heated to a comfortable temperature. Michael carefully lifted his jacket from Aaron's shoulders and laid it over a chair.
'Take a look around,' he said. 'The hardwood floors and ceilings are original to the building, but the rest is mine. Oh, and if you need to use the restroom, there are three to choose from.' He indicated the doors, each in a separate corner of the loft, then walked over to the kitchen to start a kettle of water.
Aaron didn't know where to begin. In one corner of the enormous space was a classic arcade with pinball machines, console video games, a bowling machine, a dartboard, a chessboard, candy and drink vending machines, and in honor of 21st century technology, a replica 1950s era jukebox with 10 °CD capacity, iPod jack, and surround-sound speakers.
Another area was outfitted as a gym, with a basketball hoop (with regulation key), a full-size trampoline, a weight machine, a treadmill, a stationary-bike, and a weight-bench surrounded by free-weights.
In a far corner, Michael had set up a music studio equipped with a dozen vintage guitars and amps, a pro drum kit, and an array of keyboards. The digital recording console had an immense, automated mixing board and was fitted with a pair of the biggest display monitors Aaron had ever seen.
'Your loft… it's incredible!' he said.
Michael smiled and nodded — he was proud of his success.
He washed and dried his hands then removed a first aid kit from a drawer, opened it, and laid a few items out on the large granite island. 'Come on over and sit down for a second,' he said. 'But wash your hands first.'
As Aaron washed up, he found scratches on the backs of his hands that he hadn't noticed under all of the grime. Damn dog, he thought, as a brief, frightening image of the manic animal jumped in and out of his mind. Then he took a seat on a stool by the island.
Michael cleaned Aaron's cuts and abrasions and applied antiseptic, gauze and tape. 'That should do the trick,' he said.
Aaron stood, feeling renewed. He smiled at Michael, grateful for the man's kindness.
– While Michael straightened up his mess, Aaron walked across the loft to a wall of glass that provided a
