I went to the freezer to get a scoop of ice cream, a small treat before my venture into the night. The plastic tub–style ice cream container was on the counter. I sighed and picked it up, thinking Sneak must have got into it while I changed. It was too light, almost empty. I noticed the holes punched in the top of the lid at the same time I felt the shuffling movement of something alive inside it.
“Oh, Jesus!” I dropped the container on the counter.
“Damn,” Sneak said as she came into the kitchen. “I should have warned you. Sorry.”
“Is that the goddamn gopher?”
“It is.”
“What the hell is it doing here?”
“I brought it from Dayly’s.” Sneak peeled the lid carefully from the ice cream container.
“How?”
“In my handbag.”
“That thing has been in your handbag all this time? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m a nice person,” she said. “The cops will have looked at Dayly’s apartment by now. You think they’re going to feed and care for this thing during their investigation? You think Dayly’s housemate will? I know how she was about the pigeon Dayly rescued. She threw a fucking fit.”
“Having you here is bad enough, Sneak. You can’t have that thing here, too.”
“Well, it’s here.”
“Get rid of it.”
“Just hold it, Neighbor.” She scooped the creature out of the box. “You’ll see it’s just—”
“No, Sneak! No, I don’t want—”
“Just hold it, for fuck’s sake! It doesn’t bite!”
Sneak snatched my hand and held it flat. I winced as I felt the warm, furry weight fall into my palm.
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”
“Look at you. You’re pathetic. How could you be afraid of something so small and cute? This thing is straight out of a goddamn Disney film. Open your eyes.”
I looked at the creature in my palm. Its pink nose was snuffling at the base of my thumb. A splinter of terror shot through me at the sight of the bucked yellow teeth pressed against the tiny, furry chin. I had one eye open, my face scrunched and arm trembling.
“It’s going to bite me.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Do you know how they test a human for rabies? They have to drill into your skull and take a brain sample.”
“It doesn’t have rabies.” Sneak rolled her eyes. “Pat it.”
“I’m not going to pat it.”
“Pat it or I will slap you down right here in your own kitchen, bitch.”
I brought the little creature closer to me. With the index finger of my free hand I tentatively stroked its oversized head. The thing seemed to enjoy the attention. It rose up on its hind legs, and Sneak and I watched while it scratched at the white fur of its belly like a fat old man waking, yawning. I stroked its tiny pink tail, rolled my finger over its back.
“It’s very soft,” I conceded.
Sneak was smiling.
“Now take it away, please,” I said.
“Just hold it another second.”
The gopher turned and started walking up my wrist, its little pink paws padding over my forearm, fast, toward my elbow.
“Grab it, Sneak! Oh god! Oh god! Grab it!”
Sneak plucked the animal from my arm. I watched her return it to the ice cream tub and secure the lid. I had no words for her. I gave her a withering look and went to get my work bag.
There’s a comfort in work. In blessed, mindless routines. Wiping sugar granules from the countertop of the coffee station, slipping bottles of Mountain Dew into the fridge in neat rows, checking off the bathroom cleaning roster. I watched cars move in and out of the lot in waves; cab drivers stocking up on water and aspirin for the long shift ahead, frat boys in juiced-up cars grabbing Red Bulls before heading out for a night on the town, film agents paying for gas for their Maseratis without breaking the conversation on their Bluetooth earpieces. In the quieter moments after the red and violet sunset I did the crossword in the newspaper behind the counter.
A no-show: Absent.
I thought about Jamie, how many events in his short life I’d been a no-show for. Birthday parties. School awards ceremonies. Baseball games.
My phone rang, a welcome reprieve from the dark thoughts.
“I’m sending Fred around there,” Ada said, without any sort of greeting. “Don’t run when you see him. I haven’t told him to whack you. Yet.”
“What?” I shook my head, bewildered. “You’re sending him where? Here?”
“That cholo hangout where you peddle Twinkies.”
A cold chill ran through me. I looked out at the street, the last whispers of white sky being slowly crushed by night. I didn’t like Ada knowing where I worked, didn’t want to think about how she’d acquired the information. “What are you sending him here for?”
“I’m giving you a gun. Sneak was right. You might need one. But I wasn’t going to give it to you with that walking train wreck around. She’ll take it and sell it, or she’ll pop you with it while she’s high. She’s dumb as shit, Sneak. Her mama was a hill person. You can tell. One of those types that has a baby and lets the cow feed it from its udders in the barn while she goes about making the next one. She’s probably lifted most of the cash I gave you already, am I right?”
“No, I hid it pretty well.”
“You might think so. I bet you’re wrong.”
“Ada, I don’t want a gun,” I said. “Please don’t send one. I get caught with it and I’m going back to prison, guaranteed. If I’m found in Sneak’s company, maybe I can argue my case. But they’ll throw away the key if there’s a weapon discovered at my place.”
“But I thought you liked guns, Neighbor girl.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “You certainly seem to be a natural with them.”
“How do you know Dayly Lawlor?” I asked.
“Never mind how I know her.”
“Come on.” I leaned on the counter. “Help me understand why you’re doing
