Sam snorted as we drove past the hospital, and then took the road up the ridge. “You wish. Sure, Moe wants something from you. But I think you maybe want to hear him out. I promised him I’d do my best to make it happen.”
“And why would I want to impose on Gardens hospitality again?”
“I know it means nothing to you, how Big Moe had to scramble to come up with a good reason not to feed you to Natalie and Leo. Maybe Moe’s president of the Crips – but you have no idea what a juggling act it is for him to keep them all happy, and make them toe the line.”
“So I’ll keep it simple,” Sam said. “You’ll come with me for the best of all possible reasons, old man: because there’s something in it for you, something I know will make you very happy.” He turned left and down into the wide hollow the Gardens nestled in.
“You don’t have to worry about Natalie, go ahead and keep playing house with her,” Sam said as we drove around that phantom rectangle of empty lots. “She was always a good girl; I always liked her. She won’t do shit to you without Moe gives her the go ahead, and he ain’t gonna if only because you’re my dad.
“And as for Wayne? He was always an asshole, me and Moe are just as happy he’s gone to tell the truth. Natalie, Randy, and Leo are the only ones who’ll miss him; you won’t get any comeback from any of the other 18th Street Crips.”
“Your cold-blooded analysis is very reassuring, boy. Nice to know I’m staking my life on your people skills.”
Sam slammed on the brakes as we started entering the Gardens through its sole access road. “Something brought you back on up here to Stagger Bay. You ain’t got no parole hanging over your head. You could’ve gone anywhere the waves tossed you without worrying about getting violated – but I guess you got nowhere else to go, do you old man?”
A drug customer honked angrily behind us as Sam scowled at me. “Are you in the car or out of it? No one’s twisting your arm.”
He looked down at Alden’s card, which I was studying after I realized it was still in my wallet. “What up?”
“Some agent wants to represent me, says he can make me a lot of cash.”
I made like I was going to toss it out the window, but Sam grabbed my arm. “Maybe you should sleep on it,” he said, “I’m your next of kin if you get deceased after all.”
He stepped on the gas and we entered the Gardens. I shrugged and put Alden’s pasteboard away in my skinny wallet as Sam pulled up in front of Natalie’s hovel.
Chapter 25
The 18th Street Crips were out there doing their thing as Sam parked.
“Oh, I almost forgot old man. Picked up something at a head shop you’ll be putting on immediately.” Sam reached over and rooted in the glove box, then pulled out something made of leather. As he let it unfold to dangle, I saw it was an eye patch; someone had hand-painted a big red eye on it, like what’s-his-name’s symbol in Lord of the Rings.
I took it from him and turned away, bent over in the seat so no one could see as I peeled off the duct tape and sanitary napkins, then pulled the eye patch on. I took a chance and peeped in the rear view mirror.
The stitches in the healing scars still radiated out spoke-like from beneath the patch, but the empty socket was covered. That red, stylized eye glared back at me as if a separate being were grafted onto my face.
“Pretty evil-looking,” I said, studying my homely profile from various angles. The mirror didn’t seem as much of an enemy now, but I still wasn’t going to make a habit of admiring myself in it.
As Sam and I got out the car and walked up to Natalie’s door, I scoped around for news crews lurking to pounce.
“Looking for something?” Big Moe asked, grinning. It was startling not to see him wearing his habitual Eeyore- on-Prozac expression.
“Some cameras came around figuring to bother Natalie about Wayne,” Moe said. “We convinced them it wasn’t a healthy neighborhood, fun times were had. You’ll still have your privacy here, even with everything all stirred up. Hell, we couldn’t let you interfere with business, could we?”
“Thanks, kid,” I said.
Sam walked over to join Moe as I knocked on the door. They muttered and plotted together on the far end of the stoop, darting amateurish glances my way.
It was good my boy had a place he could call a hometown, and friends who knew him from when he was a baby on. My family had always been on the move when I was a kid, Dad keeping one step ahead of bill collectors, the Man, or whomever.
Natalie opened the door. She was fixing fried bologna sandwiches and when she saw me she hesitated before gesturing me toward an empty seat at the head of the table. I sat down next to Randy and we commenced washing down the sandwiches with grape Kool-Aid.
While we ate I couldn’t help envisioning Wayne sitting down at this same table to eat with Natalie and Randy. Maybe in the very same chair I was sitting in right now?
Studying Natalie out the corner of my eye, I wondered why she and Wayne hadn’t had more kids. She struck me as a Fertile Myrtle by nature.
“Somebody told me you didn’t really kill my daddy,” Randy said. “They said his friends killed him.”
“Some friends, huh?” I said, hazarding a smile. But he didn’t return it, so I wiped mine off my face. “No, that’s truth, Randy. It was those other guys did it, not me.”
“My daddy could never have been part of that,” Randy said in a rush. “He didn’t know what they were going to do or he never would have rode with them.”
I remembered back to how Wayne giggled when Slash murdered Kendra. I remembered the last instants of Wayne’s life, watching him stare down in terror at the grenade skittering against his shoes.
“Well,” I said, “I figure at the end there, he was trying to help me. He made a mistake, that’s all. In the end your daddy was a hero, too.”
Randy rewarded me with a grin that looked to be displaying every tooth he owned, framing the hole where two missing front teeth had been. Natalie hustled him into the bathroom. When she came back out few minutes later Randy was singing to himself in there, splashing and banging and babbling in the tub, sounding like a normal kid for the first time since I’d intruded myself on his home.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Natalie said. “Wayne was always mean, even when he was trying to be nice.” She started to clear off the table, and I came to help.
“He didn’t have that good an upbringing, but that was no excuse, you know?” she said as she commenced washing the dishes.
“Well,” I said, putting away the sandwich fixings in the fridge, “I wasn’t the nicest guy in the world when I was his age, either.” I stood next to her and dried each dish as she rinsed it.
“I want to see under your eye patch,” Natalie said when we were done. “I need to find something out.”
This was more than I’d bargained for, I’ll admit. But I’d helped make her a widow and I’d imposed on her hospitality. She’d shown me mercy; I could trust her with my life. I reached up, pulled the eye patch off fast before I could change my mind, and stood looking at her, feeling naked.
I’ll give her credit, she didn’t flinch. Still, I could see in her eyes just how ugly it was. I didn’t have to study my reflection in those big brown eyes to remember how much my own new face repulsed me now. “I know it’s pretty hideous,” I said.
“People could get used to it if they had to.”
I opened my mouth to answer, unsure of what was going on here. But the sounds of a scuffle came from outside, interrupting my reply.
Natalie peeked out the curtained window above the kitchenette sink. “I been waiting for this for a while,” she said with a smile.
I stepped up to join her and we stood together looking out the window as she held the curtain open for both our benefits.
Leo was on the ground, surrounded by the 18th Street Crips as they lay the boots into him; their arms pumped
