“What do you think? A teacher caught Randy dealing on campus. Reported him to the cops. His dad paid them off, the teacher too, I think. They all chuckled about not wanting to ruin the star quarterback’s bright future.”
Myron kept nodding. “Who was the teacher?”
“Don’t know.”
“Heard any rumors?”
“No.”
But Myron thought that maybe he had an idea who it was.
He asked a few more questions. But there was nothing else here. Randy and Big Jake Wolf. It came back to them again. It came back to the teacher/guidance counselor Harry Davis and the musician/ teacher/lingerie buyer Drew Van Dyne. It came back to that town, Livingston, and how the young rebelled, and how much pressure there was on all those kids to succeed.
At the end, Myron looked at Rufus. “Leave us alone for a minute.”
“No way.”
But Katie had some of her poise back. “It’s okay, Rufus.”
He stood. “I’ll be right behind the door,” Rufus said to Myron, “with
Myron bit back the rejoinder and waited until they were alone. He thought about Dominick Rochester, how he was trying to find his daughter, how maybe he knew that Katie was in a place like this with a man like Rufus and how maybe his overreaction — his desire to find his daughter — was suddenly understandable.
Myron bent close to her ear and whispered. “I can get you out of here.”
She leaned away and made a face. “What are you talking about?”
“I know you want to escape your father, but this guy isn’t the answer.”
“How do you know what the answer is for me?”
“He runs a brothel, for crying out loud. He almost hit you.”
“Rufus loves me.”
“I can get you out of here.”
“I wouldn’t go,” she said. “I’d rather die than live without Rufus. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Katie…”
“Get out.”
Myron rose.
“You know something,” she said. “Maybe Aimee is more like me than you think.”
“How’s that?”
“Maybe she doesn’t need rescuing either.”
Or, Myron thought, maybe you both do.
CHAPTER 44
Big Cyndi stayed behind and flashed Aimee’s photograph around the neighborhood, just in case. Those employed in these illicit fields wouldn’t talk to cops or Myron, but they’d talk to Big Cyndi. She had her gifts.
Myron and Win headed back to their cars.
“Are you coming back to the apartment?” Win asked.
Myron shook his head. “I got more to do.”
“I’ll relieve Zorra.”
“Thanks.” Then looking back at the warehouse, Myron added: “I don’t like leaving her here.”
“Katie Rochester is an adult.”
“She’s eighteen.”
“Exactly.”
“So what are you saying? You turn eighteen, you’re on your own? We only rescue adults?”
“No,” Win said. “We rescue those we can. We rescue those in trouble. We rescue those who ask and need our help. We do not — repeat, not — rescue those who make choices we don’t agree with. Bad choices are a part of life.”
They kept walking. Myron said, “You know how I like to read the paper at Starbucks, right?”
Win nodded.
“Every teenager who hangs out there smokes. All of them. I sit there and watch them and when they light up, not even thinking about it, just as casual as you please, I think to myself, ‘Myron, you should say something.’ I think I should go up to them and excuse myself for interrupting and then beg them to stop smoking now because it’ll only get harder. I want to shake them and make them understand how stupid they’re being. I want to tell them about all the people I know, people who were living wonderful, happy lives like, say, Peter Jennings, a great guy from all I’ve heard, and how he was living this amazing life and how he lost it because he started smoking young. I want to shout at them the full litany of health problems they will inevitably face because of what they’re so casually doing right now.”
Win said nothing. He looked ahead and kept pace.
“But then I think I should mind my own business. They don’t want to hear it. And who am I anyway? Just some guy. I’m not important enough to make them stop. They’d probably tell me to take a hike. So of course, I keep quiet. I look the other way and go back to my paper and coffee and meanwhile these kids are sitting near me, slowly killing themselves. And I let them.”
“We pick and choose our battles,” Win said. “That one would be a loser.”
“I know, but here’s the thing: If I said something to every kid, every time I saw them, maybe I’d perfect my antismoking pitch. And maybe I’d reach one. Maybe one would stop smoking. Maybe my prying would save just one life. And then I wonder if staying quiet is the right thing — or the easy thing.”
“And then what?” Win asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to hang out at McDonald’s and scold the people eating Big Macs? When you see a mother encouraging her overweight son to snarf down his second supersized order of fries, are you going to warn her about what the boy’s horrible future will be like?”
“No.”
Win shrugged.
“But okay, forget all that,” Myron said. “In this specific case, right now, a few yards away from us, there is a pregnant girl sitting in that whorehouse—”
“—who has made up her own, adult mind,” Win finished for him.
They kept walking.
“It’s like what that Dr. Skylar told me.”
“Who?” Win asked.
“The woman who spotted Katie near the subway. Edna Skylar. She talked about preferring the innocent patients. I mean, she took the Hippocratic oath and all and she follows it, but when push comes to shove, she’d rather work with someone more deserving.”
“Human nature,” Win said. “I assume you weren’t comfortable with that?”
“I’m not comfortable with any of it.”
“But it’s not just Dr. Skylar. You do it too, Myron. Put aside Claire’s guilt trip on you for a moment. Right now, you’re choosing to help Aimee because you perceive her as an innocent. If she were a teenage boy who had a history of drug problems, would you be so apt to find her? Of course not. We all pick and choose, like it or not.”
“It goes beyond that.”
“How so?”
“How important is what college you make?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
