“That would be good,” he says, “but he’s achin’ for his momma. Even if he can’t live with her, I think he needs to see that she’s okay . . . have a visit and let her explain things—under supervision, a’course.”
“Who knows where she might be?”
“I went back and checked her old place on the off chance, but it was rented out.”
“So what do we do?”
“We need to have things lined up when Frankie reappears for real. If anybody knows her whereabouts, it’d be that Yvonne girl. I tracked her down, but she wouldn’t let me past the crack in the door she told me to go to hell through.”
I laugh. “That’s Yvonne. She probably sees you through the same eyes as Sheila.”
“Kinda what I thought,” he says. “‘Worthless ancient biker’ isn’t a term you hear twice by coincidence.”
“So what can I do?”
“Go see her; feel her out for what she knows. If she could lead us to Sheila, maybe we can figure something out—get to her before Wiz takes Frankie public an’ gets her all pissed off. Got her address right here.” He hands me a folded piece of paper.
“Yvonne! Come on! Open up! I know you’re in there. I saw you through the window when I was coming up the steps.” I yell it through the door.
I came straight from coffee with Walter; I need to hurry. When Pop finds out I didn’t honor his demand that I spend the rest of the day in my room, he may chain me to the wall.
“Go away! I don’t know where she is!”
“That’s not why I’m here! C’mon, open up!”
I wait long enough that I think she’s blowing me off, but as I’m starting down the apartment house steps to run around back, the door opens. “What?”
“Can I come in?”
“What do you want?”
“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”
We stare at each other through the crack for a moment, then she steps back, for which I thank her.
Yvonne has always looked “unfortunate” to me. She’s a big woman, about Sheila’s height but without the muscled structure that is a Boots trademark. If she didn’t look so incredibly sad she might be pretty. I don’t know much about her, really; just that she’s hung around Sheila the last few years and is incredibly loyal. She must have a high tolerance for being treated like shit, because when Sheila’s not feeling good, which is about a hundred percent of the time, she’s no fun.
I ask if it’s okay for me to sit and she shrugs, so I do.
“I know you said you don’t know where my sister is, but you’ve got a better chance of hearing from her than anyone,” I say.
“What makes you think that? Seems like she’d call her boyfriend.”
“She has a boyfriend?”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t she always have a boyfriend?”
“I guess. Sounds like you don’t like that much.”
“They’re all assholes.”
“Yeah,” I say, “she’s a magnet for bad guys.”
Yvonne looks away.
“Listen, if she does get in touch, tell her to call me. My old caseworker says until they discover otherwise, they’re assuming Frankie will turn up, so they’re setting up a plan.”
“What kind of plan?”
“Depending on what she’s willing to do, a plan with the best chance of her not losing contact with him. Like, significant contact.”
Yvonne just stares at me.
“That is, if she even wants it. Truth, Yvonne, I’m not even sure.”
She drops her face to her hands. “I miss him so much. I’m the one that took care of him; I mean, when she wasn’t pawning him off on you guys. The little guy would do anything just to get a pat on the head from her, but she just cursed him and said how he’d ruined her life. If she’d have moved in with me, I could have kept him safe. I wanted her . . .” and she trails off.
“You’re really in love with her.”
“And I treated her good,” she says finally. “Not like all those . . . those assholes. I treated them both like . . .” and her entire body heaves.
“Like a mom, huh?”
She lets out a weak cry.
“Look, Yvonne, you don’t know me very well; mostly you’ve just seen me as Sheila’s bitchy little sister. But for the first time in the history of caseworkers ever, I think they’re going to surround Frankie with something like a family if they find him. Sheila could be part of it, and if she were, you could be, too.” I stand up. “So . . . if she calls.”
Yvonne walks me to the door, where she grips my wrist. “Annie, I don’t know whether you know it or not, but right before all this happened there was a complaint called into social services.”
“I know.”
“It was me,” she says, “and you do know there’s almost no chance he’s alive. This is my fault.” She looks truly anguished.
I take her other hand. “Listen to me. I have really good reason to think he is. Be ready.”
“You have a minute?” Marvin peeks in my room, to where I have been once again banished. I am on a short leash.
“I’ve got way longer than that.”
“Maybe not,” Marvin says, and a closer look reveals red eyes.
“What?”
“Dad is talking about expelling you. He’s thinking about calling children’s services in the morning to say he can’t handle you.”
“He’ll get over it. You know how he is.”
Marvin says, “I hate him.”
“C’mon, Marvin. He’s your dad.”
“All the more reason to hate him,” Marvin says. “It would be different if just some bad guy was doing this. He sounds like he means it this time.”
I’m looking calm for Marvin’s sake, but adrenaline runs through me like a river. I didn’t think it would go this far. “You know, Marvin, he has a point. The only reason he’s ‘handled’ me this long is I let him.”
“I get it; you’re a pain in the patoot; big news. But where would you go?”
“I’m seventeen. Wiz could help me
