“Is that what I said?”
My nose kept bleeding. I couldn’t look either of them in the face, because I was so angry I thought I might actually take a swing at them. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply. “No. I don’t know anything. I talked to Gilmore, though.”
“And what’s he say?” Mal asked.
“Nothing. He told me nothing.”
“He never tells anyone anything, that prick.”
“Collie’s girl,” Grey said. He tightened his tie knot. Even after three hours of high-stakes poker and working the cards, he still looked fresh, not a hair out of place. “The wife. The groupie. He could’ve talked her into it.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“It’s what they do. It’s a fact. Half of them are copycats in the making.”
I wagged my chin. “I’m pretty sure not her.”
Mal looked puzzled. “What girl? Collie’s got a girl? A wife?”
“He got married in prison,” I said.
“Did you tell me that?” He got agitated, moved in close on me. His massive hands came up in a shaky gesture of distress. “Did I know that?”
“I don’t think you did, Uncle Mal.”
“If you mentioned it, then tell me you did. I need to know when I’m being forgetful.”
“I didn’t mention it,” I told him. “You didn’t know about it.”
I almost brought up the fact that I’d crept the Clarke house, my suspicions about Gilmore, my worries about my old man. But I kept thinking, What can they do to help? What’s the point of explaining? These two popping their vitamins. What was added stress going to do to them?
I thought, This is who I am. I am going to become one of these old men. I’ll have nothing. No wife, no children, no family. I’d lost Kimmy. Worse, I’d given her up. And Chub was going to lose her as well, the fucking fool.
Mal sighed. He placed an enormous hand on the back of my neck and pulled me to him in a half hug. “It’s late, let’s go home.”
“I can’t,” I told him. “I have something I need to do.”
28
Nothing had been shifted around in either of Chub’s safes. I sat at his office desk and picked up the phone. “Home” was #1 on his speed dial. I punched the button and wonder#x2Once wee desbeied if Kimmy would answer. I wasn’t sure what the hell I would say if she did. I realized as the line connected that I hadn’t put much thought into this plan.
Chub gave a very tentative “Hello.”
He saw that he was being called by his own garage, after hours. I thought perhaps I should say my name at least, tell him to meet me. But I didn’t. I felt safer in my anonymity. I was afraid of my own best friend. I was a cowardly fuck. I hung up.
It took him fifteen minutes to tear ass over from his house. He was driving a ’64 Shelby Cobra 289 Roadster, another classic muscle car he must’ve restored himself. Some he sold, some he kept.
He was a disciplined planner when it came to getaways, but he didn’t know what to do when entering his own garage that had mysteriously called him and hung up in his face. I watched him standing out there in the dark, wondering which way he should play it. Whether he should come in the back or through one of the bays or just unlock the front door. He finally decided to try the front. He didn’t even bother calling out a hello. He checked his desk, picked up the phone, listened to the dial tone, kept looking around.
“Chub.”
He spun, his left hand going for his back pocket. There was no bulge of a pistol, so he must’ve been packing a blade.
It was stupid of him to carry anything except an automatic with a hair trigger. The only bastards who were likely to come after him were the crews he was working with. Some paranoid mook who wanted to take care of all witnesses, anybody in the know. As soon as Chub laid out the plans, the mook would lever up something small, probably a popgun.22, and go for the head shot. Even if Chub saw it coming, what the hell was he going to do to stop it with just a blade in his hand?
I snapped the lights on.
When he saw it was me he cocked his head, drew a deep breath, and took his hand out of his pocket. A sad grin played across his lips but never fully settled there. He wore an expression that said he should’ve known it was me. He’d been waiting for this. I suppose I was predictable. I was the guy who didn’t have whatever it took to face up to people the normal way. I couldn’t knock on a door. I couldn’t stand by my girl. I couldn’t save my brother. He eyed me but didn’t approach.
“Terry.”
All of the jealousy and anger I felt moved through me second by second like a storm on the open water. It bobbed to the surface and then fell away. A thousand good memories all scrambled through my head. I thought we would have to shake hands. We would have to do that much. I put out my hand and he took it. I moved in a little closer and could feel his heart hammer against my own. He took a step away. As I waited for my anger to return, I realized it was already there.
“How long have you been home?” he asked.
“A few days.”
“Heard on the news about the girl. The sister of the one that-”
“I didn’t do it,” I said.
He gave a puzzled expression. “I never thought you did.”
He was too skilled to let his eyes shift toward the safe. He walked to the front of the desk and leaned against it, facing me, blocking me from the safe. I heard his folded knife thunk against the thick wood. He crossed his arms.
I remembered how he’d walked with a ='1xlight step, almost skipping out of the car and rushing after Scooter, who squealed and playfully tried to run from him. How he’d swept her into his arms and set her on his shoulder and twirled and whirled across the lawn while her fingers brushed the buds of tree branches. The way he had kissed Kimmy and pressed his forehead to hers.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Collie asked me to come back and I did.”
“Was that all it took? Someone asking?”
“It was more than that,” I admitted.
He nodded, but the tension between us grew. He looked into my face until I turned away. “You ready to talk about it?”
I said nothing.
“You don’t think you owe me that much, Terry?”
There was too much clawing around inside me, like a wild animal wanting out. He shifted and the blade clunked again.
I said, “You once told me that Kimmy… she’d send me up or set me straight. Which is she going to do for you?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
His face was blank. He swallowed thickly. His throat was dry. He knew.
“Give it up, Chub. She deserves better than to watch you get taken down by the cops. Your daughter needs her father.”
He stood and took two steps forward and got nose-to-nose. “This is the first thing you say to me in five years? Out of everything, that’s what you choose to say?”
“It’s the most important thing I can think of.”
His mouth folded into a sneer. “That’s sad, then.”
