Bad Guys

“Huh?”

“I called home, got Paul, he said you were out.”

“Yeah, I’m just out doing a few things. What’s up, honey?”

“Okay, you know how I told you I had this weird feeling, like maybe someone was following me?”

I felt a bit queasy. “Uh-huh.”

“Like, I know it’s nuts, but I’ve had this car following me for a while, and I’m starting to get that feeling again.”

“Okay. Uh, tell me more.”

“Yeah. It’s some piece-of-crap car, sort of like our Camry? We’ve just been cruising around, trying out the new car, and I’ve noticed this car keeps showing up in my mirror.”

“Can you see that it’s a guy?” I asked.

“Well, not exactly, I’m just assuming, you know? Like, how many female pervs drive around at night following people?”

“Okay,” I said. “Don’t panic. Maybe it’s not the same car. Maybe you’re just on edge or something. It’s probably my fault. I’ve freaked you out with all this talk about what happened to my friend Lawrence.”

“Maybe…” Angie didn’t sound that sure.

“Is he following you right now?”

I saw Angie glance at her rearview mirror.

“Yeah, he’s still there, Dad. I’m afraid to stop anywhere or anything, in case it’s some creep and he jumps out or something.”

I eased up on the gas, hung a right down the first street I came to.

“Oh, hang on,” Angie said. “False alarm. He’s gone.”

“Are you sure?” I said. I’d wandered off into some industrial neighborhood. I had absolutely no idea where I was.

I could hear Angie let out a long breath. “Yeah, yeah, he just turned off. I guess I was just imagining it, you know? Maybe I was thinking it was Trevor or something. It’d be just the sort of creepy thing he’d do.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty creepy.” I let out a long breath of my own as I pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. “Maybe it’s time for you to head home,” I suggested.

“I’ll be home soon,” Angie said. “We’re just going to grab something to eat at McDonald’s.”

“We?”

“Me and a friend.”

“Don’t be too late, all right?”

“Dad, I’m eighteen, okay? Don’t worry. Actually, I’m going to drop by the house in a bit. I have to grab a book for my friend, and then I’m going to give hi-”

“What was that, honey?”

“I said I’m going to drop by the house to pick up a book for my friend, and then I’m going to drive my friend home.”

“Yeah, well, you say hello to him for me,” I said.

“Dad, I never said, I mean, I didn’t-”

There was a siren whoop behind me. I glanced in my mirror and saw the flashing red light of a police car.

“Honey,” I said, “I’m going to have to go.”

“Okay.” She sounded relieved that I was ending our conversation. “Talk to you later.” As we each disconnected, I rolled down my window for the approaching police officer.

“Good evening, Officer,” I said.

“License and registration, please,” he said.

“Sure, of course.” As I opened the glove compartment I said, “Did I do something wrong, Officer?” Where the hell was the registration? The inside of the glove box looked like a wastebasket.

“You know you got a taillight out?” he asked.

Oh yeah.

“No,” I said. “You’re kidding. I had no idea. The car was just in for a service, probably a month ago.” I’d located a small plastic dealership binder. Surely the registration must be in there. I rifled through. Bingo!

“Whatcha doing around here?” the officer asked, using a flashlight to examine the registration paper I’d just handed him.

I didn’t even know where “here” was. “I guess I’m a bit turned around,” I said.

“I’m waiting for your license,” he said, still hanging on to the registration. “So, you’re lost?”

“Yeah,” I said, shifting in my seat to get at the wallet in the back pocket of my new khakis. The pants were so new, it was hard to wriggle my wallet out. “Maybe you can help me. I’m looking for the closest McDonald’s? Is there one near here?” I finally freed it and got my license out.

He told me where he thought I’d find the closest one, then started scribbling down some information from the two official bits of paper I’d handed him.

“I’m going to have to write you up,” he said. “And you’re going to have to get that brake light fixed. Tomorrow.”

“You bet,” I said.

He spent about another five minutes with me, handed me my ticket, and went back to his car. I turned the car around, hoping that a U-turn here wouldn’t amount to another infraction, and drove back to the street where I’d lost track of Angie a few minutes earlier.

If I could drive past the McDonald’s, I thought, see that she was okay, make sure that Trevor’s car was nowhere to be seen, I’d pack it in. I’d head home.

The McDonald’s was right where the cop said it would be, its golden arches visible nearly a mile away. It was on the left, and as I approached I put on my blinker, pulled into the turning lane. I figured I’d do a sweep through the parking lot, and if everything looked satisfactory, I’d call it a night.

I drove down the west side of the restaurant, the windows to my left, the cars parked on an angle to my right. And there was the Virtue, pulled in between a couple of small cars, neither of which was a black Chevy.

I swung around the back, where there were only a few cars parked, probably those belonging to employees, then down the east side, past more cars.

Everything looked okay.

There were two vehicles ahead of me, the first of which was turning left, across two lanes of traffic. I put on the brakes and waited to pull out.

I happened to glance left, and saw Angie and her boyfriend seated at a table, Angie’s back to me, the boyfriend looking in my direction. I saw him raise his head as my car went by, saw him say something to Angie. As she turned to look outside, I was able to pull ahead another car length so she wouldn’t be able to see my face.

Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, I thought, trying to will the car ahead of me to get moving.

And then, all of a sudden, he was at my window. Angie’s boyfriend, banging on the glass.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Hey, you!”

I wanted to pull ahead, but the car ahead of me was still in the way, and there was no place to go.

“I want to talk to you!” he shouted.

I was going to have to fess up, come clean. Admit to my daughter what I’d been up to. I hit the button, brought the window down.

“Why the fuck you following us around?” he demanded.

“Listen,” I said, trying to be calm. “You don’t understand. I’m actually-”

And then his fist was coming through the open window, so fast it was a blur, and then it was connecting with the side of my head.

26