– And I took some money from him. For a guy I know. To pay a debt.
He slipped the smokes from his T sleeve and knocked one from the pack.
– 'Kay.
– Just so you know.
– Now I know.
He lit up, tilted his face to the sun and closed his eyes and blew smoke.
I leaned my back against the hot steel of the door.
– I want to do better, Chev. I. I want to try and do better. Shit, man, I want to just, I want to try. I'm tired of. Things. I'm not saying. I don't
He took the cigarette from his lips, opened his eyes and slid them my way.
– Web, man, you have never in your life been a nice guy.
He closed his eyes again.
– But you used to be pretty damn cool. You used to be a guy a friend could count on. And it'd be nice if you were that way again.
I nodded.
– See, that's it. That's it. I want to be that guy, I want to be the guy people can count on. That sounds great. I don't exactly remember how that worked, but I want to try and be that again. Really, man.
He nodded, worked a hand into his pocket.
– Cool.
He took his hand from his pocket.
– So why don't you start by telling me where you took my truck.
He opened his hand and showed me the nine-millimeter bullet inside.
– And how this got in there.
– The phone?
– Yeah.
– Jesus. I think we need to get rid of it.
We both sat on the couch, staring at the phone in the middle of the liv-ingroom floor.
I nodded.
– Yeah. Without a doubt.
He pointed at the kitchen table.
– There was stuff on it?
– Urn, yeah.
– Lots?
– Not really.
– On the top?
– Yeah.
He shook his head.
– We got to get rid of it.
He put his face in his hands.
– With the fucking phone. That is so. Oh man.
He took his face from his hands and looked at me.
– Was the guy a dick?
– Chev, he beat his nephew to death with a fucking phone! Yes, he was a dick.
– No, the nephew, was he a?
– I don't know. Probably. Why do you?
He stood up.
– I don't know. I'm just trying to deal and. Jesus. With the phone. Awwww, man. I used it after that. Awwww, shit!
He sat back down.
– That's fucked.
– Sorry.
– What sorry? Fucked up inbred kills someone with the phone, what are you sorry about?
– I don't know. Feels like it's my fault.
We stared at the phone.
Chev cupped his chin in his hand, clicked his thumb ring against one of his earrings.
– No way I can look at that kitchen every day.
He stood.
– We got to move out of here, man.
I nodded.
– Do you
He looked at me.
– Are you being a smartass? Are you being a smartass about a guy getting bludgeoned with a phone in my apartment?
I held my thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
– Little bit?
He shook his head.
– Looks like someone's feeling better.
He started for the door.
– Long as you're all chipper, you call the landlady and tell her we're out at the end of the month.
I stood.
– Where you going?
– The shop.
– Hang on, I'll come with.
He opened the door.
– Uh-uh, fuckwit, you have some disturbing shit to dispose of before I get home.
He pointed at the phone and the table.
– Those. Gone. And anything else that got.
He looked at the kitchen.
– Telling you, Web, a weaker man than me, he'd have quit your shit long ago.
I shrugged.
– Must be my abundant charm.
SECRET SKELETONS
– So what now?
– I don't know for sure.
Po Sin stirred the ice cubes at the bottom of his glass.
– You gonna go back to teaching?
I thought about the classroom. The kids. How much fun they could be. How much of a pain. I thought about trying to walk back in there and be a normal teacher. Be a person without all these things clinging to him. Deaths like barnacles. They felt visible. And a burden. I didn't want to have them around kids.
And there were other things.
– I don't think I can really teach anymore.
