Chon didn’t call the cops or Child Protective Services. What he did was, he waited for his old man to pass out that night, then quietly opened his father’s bureau drawer, found his. 38, and pressed the barrel into John’s temple.
Big John’s eyes opened.
“You touch me again,” Chon said, “I’ll wait until you’re asleep and splatter your brains all over the wall.”
Big John blinked.
Chon pulled back the hammer.
“Unless you want me to do it right now,” he offered.
Big John slowly shook his head.
Chon eased the hammer down, put the gun back in the drawer, and went to his room.
His father never laid a hand on him again.
179
So John smirked when he heard Chon’s story about snapping the quarterback’s arm.
“Still defending damsels in distress,” he said. “So what do you want from me?”
“You have lawyers.”
“I do?” John asked, smiling. “Why would you think I have lawyers?”
Chon looked him straight in the eyes. “Because you’re a drug dealer.”
“Was,” John corrected. “I was a drug dealer. I paid my debt to society, as they say. Now I put roofs on people’s houses.”
“Right.”
John got himself a beer and offered one to Chon, who refused. John shrugged and said, “If you’re man enough to get yourself in this kind of trouble, Chon, you’re man enough to get yourself out. You want some advice about how to get by in the joint, I can give you that: never accept a favor or a gift because you’ll end up paying with your ass.”
“Personal experience?” Chon asked.
John said, “Here’s what you do, kid-you go join the navy, get your ass out of town. There, I helped you.”
Chon left and found Ben.
Ben drove him down to San Diego.
180
Now, in bed, O tells Chon all about her plan to find her father.
Chon listens to the whole thing, then asks, “What good will it do?”
“What do you mean?”
Chon shrugs. “I know my father, and I wish I didn’t.”
181
The call comes in the morning.
Ben detaches his arm from beneath Kari’s brown shoulder and picks up the phone.
Hears.
“You reading the New York Times?”
Ben, sleepy: “Not yet.”
“Well, try the Orange County Register instead, Mr. Untouchable.”
182
Ben doesn’t get the Register
(too Republican).
Runs down the street to a news rack, inserts his quarters, and pulls out a paper.
Front page, above the fold:
TWO FOUND DEAD IN MISSION VIEJO
There’s a photo of a blood-stained car.
A Volvo.
Frantically, Ben reads-“Names are being withheld pending notification…”
But he thinks he recognizes the car.
He gets his phone out and hits Scott Munson’s number. It rings six times, then Scott’s voice comes on. “You know the drill. Leave a message. Later. Scott.”
For the first time in his life, Ben feels absolutely terrified. Worse, he feels helpless. He doesn’t leave a message, just clicks off.
His phone rings again.
“Scott?” Ben asks.
“That’s sweet.”
“What did you do?!”
“No,” OGR says. “What you should be asking your self is-what did you do?”
Good question.
Then OGR posits an even better question to him.
What are you going to do?
183
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Chon asks after Ben has laid it all out for him.
“What were you supposed to do about it from Afghanistan?” Ben asks. “Then from a hospital bed?”
“We’ve always told each other everything,” Chon says. “That was the deal.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I’m guilty, too.” He tells Ben about Brian and the Boys. “That guy was testing us, seeing how we’d react. The second I left, he moved in on you.”
Ben is worked. Two people dead because of him. It’s wrong, Ben says, just flat-out fucking wrong to let them literally get away with murder.
Ben just can’t let it happen.
And won’t let it happen.
184
“Glad to hear you say it,” Chon says.
