in particular, but his gut was suddenly telling him to learn as much about Miguel as he possibly could, right down to the paint color on the walls and the type of computer he owned.
Miguel opened the door, and Jack stepped out. “Call me if there’s anything I can do for you.”
“I will,” said Miguel.
The door closed, and as Jack started down the sidewalk, he had the distinct impression that he wouldn’t be hearing from Miguel. Not anytime soon.
Sixty-one
Javier was sitting in the TV room when Theo returned to the kitchen. Theo walked around the bar stools, pulled up a chair, and straddled it, his arms resting atop the backrest. Javier was no small man, but Theo still dwarfed him, not with size but attitude.
“So, how’s our friend Kelsey?” asked Theo.
The goofy grin slid off Javier’s face. “You know her?”
“Know her? I’m the one who told her to give you a call.”
“You? Well, hey-thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, moron. You didn’t think that was real, did you?”
“Were you listening to us?”
“Hell no. I scripted it. It was Kelsey’s job to drag you off to fantasy land, so I’d have time to look around your bedroom.”
His mouth fell open, but the words were a few seconds behind. “You went in my room?”
Theo shot him a look that would have sent most men running. “If there’s one thing I hate more than a guy who threatens a single mother, it’s a guy who threatens her kid. So, where is it, lover boy? Where’d you hide the revolver with the polished nickel finish? The one you shoved in Kelsey’s face.”
Javier looked as if he were about to explode. He started to rise, then stopped.
“Sit the fuck down,” said Theo as he took aim with the borrowed pistol.
“Hey, that’s mine.”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you? Guns make really shitty pets. Turn on you in a minute.”
“Be careful, all right? That thing’s loaded.”
“I know. I can tell from the weight.” It was a nice way to let Javier know he was no stranger to guns with a magazine full of ammunition.
Javier settled back into the couch, his eyes darting nervously from the stern expression on Theo’s face to the black hole at the end of the barrel.
Theo said, “I think I will have that drink you offered earlier. Not beer, though.”
Javier pointed with a nod toward the liquor cabinet. “Help yourself.”
Theo rose and walked to the cabinet, keeping one eye and the gun trained on Javier at all times. “Let’s see what you got here,” he said as he sorted through the variety of bottles. “Scotch. Rum. Bourbon-if you can call this bourbon. My grandma used better liquor than this to make bourbon balls at Christmas.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
He nodded, smiling on one side of his mouth only. “Sit tight, friend. I’ll teach you a thing or two about begging.”
Javier sank a few inches into the couch.
Theo checked the labels on a few more bottles, then selected one. “Here we go. One-fifty-proof vodka. Now that’s what I call a drink. One for you, lover boy?”
“No, thanks.”
Theo walked toward him, unscrewed the cap, and shoved the gun into Javier’s cheek. “I’d really like you to have a drink.”
“Whatever you say.”
Theo poured the vodka onto Javier’s head, emptying almost the entire two-liter bottle until Javier and the couch were soaked.
“Say when,” said Theo.
Javier was silent. Theo stopped the shower with about an ounce remaining in the bottle. Then he went back to his chair and poured the remaining vodka into a little puddle on the cocktail table in front of him. He pulled a cigarette lighter from his pocket and said, “You can always tell the good stuff. True one-fifty vodka should burn with a nice blue flame.”
Javier went rigid. Theo put the lighter to the spilled vodka, then gave it a flick. It burst into a blue flame that danced atop the cocktail table. Javier jerked back against the sofa, getting as far away as he could. Theo let it burn for about a minute, watching Javier sweat through his vodka-soaked pores. Then he slapped the table with the palm of his hand and extinguished the flame with a loud crack that nearly made Javier jump from his seat.
He aimed the gun at Javier’s left eye and asked, “You a smart guy, Javier?”
“What?”
“You got a brain in your head? I just want to know.”
“People say I’m pretty smart, yeah.”
“Good. Because there’s something I want you to figure out for me. You think you can do that?”
He shrugged, saying nothing.
“I asked you a question,” said Theo, his voice gaining force. “Can you do that for me?”
“Sure,” said Javier, his voice quaking. “Whatever you want.”
“Let’s say I start your house on fire.”
“Man, please-”
“Shut up!” his voice boomed. “You let me finish, and don’t interrupt. Got it?”
Javier nodded.
Theo softened his tone, but it only seemed to put Javier even more on edge. “Let’s say I start your house on fire. And let’s also say you’re in it.”
Javier was struggling to show no reaction, his left eye twitching. Theo said, “This is just hypothetical, okay, lover boy? Now, once the fire’s out, people are gonna say things like, ‘Hey, you hear Javier’s house burned down?’ And then some guy will say back, ‘Yeah, I hear he burned up with it.’” Theo scratched his head and said, “I just don’t get that, do you?”
Javier looked confused. “Get what?”
“Listen to what I’m saying, numb nuts. Your house burns down, but you burn up. What the hell’s with that? Do the fires burn in different directions? Do the flames somehow magically meet in the middle? And if they do, at what point do you start burning down and the house start burning up?”
Theo flicked his lighter, let the flame spike into the air. The look of fear on Javier’s face was instantaneous, as if he was suddenly aware of how flammable he was, soaked with one-hundred-fifty-proof vodka.
“Watch that lighter, okay?” said Javier. “Please, don’t burn me.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you burn long. Maybe thirty seconds, tops, before I have to put a bullet in your head. Neighbors and what not. Can’t have you running around the living room screaming like a wild banshee. Flaming, no less.” His lips curled into a sinister smile. “Flaming wild banshee. I like that. Great name for a drink. One-fifty vodka and maybe a sliced jalapeno pepper. I’m a fucking genius, don’t you think?”
“Sure, man. Whatever you say. Just put the lighter away, okay?”
Theo sat back, his smile fading. Theo had a disarming smile, and it came naturally. But he could look as bad as Tatum if he put his mind to it, and at that moment he was doing his very best to be exactly like his older brother. “Tell me how you picked the name Alan Sirap, jerk-off.”
“Who?”
“The phony name you passed along to Sally Fenning over the Internet.”
“I swear to God, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Then why’d you videotape her?”
“What videotape?”
