hair up his ass--man, I'd like to have something to hold him off with. You dig?' Skip shook his head as though imagining that situation and then said to Donnell, 'A long time ago I tried to buy a gun offa you. You didn't know who I was, you told me to take a hike. Well, I wouldn't mind borrowing one now, for my own peace of mind. What do you say? Or--I don't like to think about it, but if it does get down to the nitty-gritty and one of us has to take him out, well . . .'
Donnell went upstairs to find the gun, and now Skip had his chance to wink at Robin, giving him a cold look.
'Hon, that's how you do it with niggers that used to be Black Panthers. You don't talk down to 'em or you don't arm-wrestle 'em, either. You act like we're all created equal, got bussed to their school and loved it.'
Chapter 26
Okay, here was the plan, the one Chris went to sleep on in his dad's bed about 4:00 A.M.:
Call Greta first thing in the morning. Ask her if he could move in with her for a few days. She'll say there isn't any furniture. He'll tell her that's all right; what he needs more than a place to sit down is a Detroit residence address. And would she pick him up this afternoon? Move his things over. She'll say fine, but the people who bought the house could be moving in soon. He'll say, Well, since we're both looking for a place to live--and she'd say something in her cute way. . . . So, call Greta about nine. At ten, drive over to Woody's and put the gun in Donnell's face. 'Where are they?' Robin and Skip. Or throw him in the swimming pool and hold the gun on him. Fire a couple into the water close to him. 'Where are they?' Haul Donnell's terrified ass out of the pool and get him to make a statement. Maybe to use later, maybe not. See what happens. . . . Go over there about ten. He wouldn't have to wear a coat and tie. But would never wear that raunchy-looking outfit Mel Gibson had on. Something casual. . . .
The phone next to the bed woke him up at twenty after eleven Sunday morning, his dad calling from Toronto.
'How about meeting us at the airport?'
Chris said, 'Yeah, I guess I could,' feeling his plan coming apart before he'd even spoken to Greta. 'What time you get in?'
'We're standby on a flight that arrives around three thirty. We don't make it, then we'll be on one that gets in--I have it written down somewhere. Here it is, five forty.'
'How'll I know which one you'll be on?'
'The way you work that,' his dad said, 'you go out to the airport and stand at the gate. If you don't see us come off the plane at three thirty, it means we're on the other one.'
'That's . . . over two hours later.'
His dad said, 'Yeah?' and waited.
Chris said, 'I bet it takes longer to drive from here out to Metro than it does to fly from Toronto to Detroit.' Thinking, And then drive back here. It could be seven thirty, the earliest, before he'd be able to get away.
His dad said, 'We can take a cab. It only costs about fifty bucks, with the tip.'
'It does? That much?'
'I don't want to inconvenience you . . .'
'No, that's all right.'
'I thought since you been using my car . . .'
'No, I'll be glad to pick you up.'
'And it's Sunday and you're not working anyway. . . . They put you back on yet?'
'I'm hoping this week.'
'You find a place to live?'
'I think so.'
'What about--is your friend still there?'
'Who, Greta? No, she went home.'
His dad said, 'Uh-huh.' He said, 'Well, listen, we'll see you later.'
'I'll be there.' Chris could hear Esther's voice then and his dad speaking away from the phone, saying, 'What? . . . Yeah, we could.' His dad talking to a woman in a hotel room in Toronto. Chris said, 'You having fun on your trip?'
His dad said, 'Yeah, it's a nice town, lotta things to do. Listen, Esther says British Airways comes through here to Detroit. We'll see what they have. Don't go anywhere the next hour or so. We get a different flight I'll call you back.'
Chris tried Greta's number. The line was busy.
He went into the kitchen and began revising his plan as he put the coffee on and got three eggs out of the refrigerator. He should talk to Greta first. Tried her again, but the line was still busy. At least she was home. Fixing his breakfast he realized how hungry he was. The idea of having scrambled eggs became a cheese and onion omelet. He looked for a can of tomato sauce in the cupboard, give it a Spanish touch, brought out a can of chili instead and kept swallowing as he watched it bubble in a saucepan, poured the chili over the eggs and ate it, Jesus, it was good, wiping his plate with bread, ate every bite before he thought of Greta again.
This time when he called her phone-answering voice came on, though not the cute Ginger one saying she wasn't home, doggone it. The voice said, 'Hi, this is Greta Wyatt. If you'll leave your name and number, please, after you hear the beep, I'll get back to you.' Chris waited for the beep and said, 'Greta? It's Chris. I'm home--'
Then heard her real voice come on saying, 'Hi. I was listening, hoping it was you.'
'You have a different way of answering.'
'Yeah, I changed it. It's a long story. Well, actually it isn't so long, but it's hard to explain.'
'I called before, your line was busy.'
'It's Mother's Day, I was talking to my mom and dad. Also, the real estate guy called first thing this morning. The people buying the house have to get out of theirs--I think they've been putting it off-- and now they want to move in Tuesday.'
'That soon?'
'I told the real estate guy, Swell, now I have to hurry up and find a place. I've been reading the classifieds, but I don't know where any of the streets are and the two I called up both sounded colored.'
Chris said, 'I have to do that too. Find a place.'
There was a silence on the line. Now that he was facing it he wasn't sure what to say. Moving in with a young lady and going apartment-hunting with her were two different things. He was glad Greta didn't say anything cute.
'My dad's coming home this afternoon. I have to meet them at the airport.'
'I have to wait for the real estate guy to call me back,' Greta said. 'He thinks maybe he can find me something, but if he doesn't. . . . I don't know, I'll call a few more.'
Giving him his cue again. Chris said, 'Well, listen, after I get back from the airport, how about if we go out, get something to eat?'
'Sounds good.'
There was another silence.
'I'd help you look for a place, but I have to wait for my dad to call.'
'That's okay.'
'See if they get an earlier flight. Then I'll be over soon as I can.'
'Fine, but you better call first.'
'Okay.'
'If I have to go out I'll leave a message on the answering thing, when I'll be back, okay?'
He didn't want to hang up.
'I couldn't call you last night. I got into something. . . . Well, I'll tell you about it. What did you do?'
'Nothing. Watched television and went to bed.' She said, 'Chris, I miss you.'
