The Shotgun Rule Part 27

--Id'z righd dere, led'z juz wog in.

--I'm trying to figure out where my dad is, OK?

--Your dab? Fug hib. Led'z go.

Paul closes his eyes, tries not to think about hurting Timo. When did he see the car?

This is Sat.u.r.day morning. No car. Last night when they snuck out? No car. Yesterday afternoon when they went to Galaxy, came back, went to the bowling alley, back for dinner? No. No. No. No. Thursday night when they snuck out to case the sketchy house? No. When they snuck back in? No. That afternoon, after they went to Jeff's with the jewelry? No. Before they went to Jeff's? Before?

Yes.

He looked down the street when they came out of Marinovic's house. The car was there.

So where's the car now? Where's his dad?

--Enub uv dis s.h.i.+d, led'z go.

Paul thinks about the car in a ditch, his dad's chest crushed by the steering column. The car flipping down the middle of an empty highway, his dad being tossed around the interior.

Like mom. Mom. Just like mom.

Leaving him alone. To live however he wants.

No.

The world doesn't work like that. You don't get the things you most want. The car's in a garage with a dead battery his dad's too lame to replace by himself. His dad's in the house asleep.

Life just like it's always been.

--Cub on, adshole.

Cuz that's what life is like. Life's not ever gonna suck any less than it does. s.h.i.+t like this never stops happening.

--OK, come on, but keep your f.u.c.king mouth shut so we don't wake him up.

--He wades ub dads hids problub.

[image]

He rides the elevator with her, back up to the trauma ward.

She leans into the corner farthest from him, her arms crossed.

--How long? Since when?

--They took off after dinner. Haven't come home. Cindy's worried. Told her I'd look around. Probably nothing.

--The cops?

--No. She called, but no.

--What about?

--Amy, look, I know I told you I'd. I know I told you what I'd do if I found out they were at your place. But. If that's it. Cindy's really worried. So. Look, if they're at your place, I'm not gonna do anything. I just need to know. For my wife.

The elevator stops, the doors slide open and Amy walks out, shaking her head.

--Bob. Jesus.

She goes past the nurses' station, holding up five fingers when Trudy stands and starts to collect her things. Trudy rolls her eyes, but sits back down.

Amy stops at the end of the hall and looks out the window down at the cars in the lot. Bob's reflection appears in the gla.s.s. She doesn't bother turning to face him.

--You are. Man. Bob, you are a piece, man, a real piece of work.

--Are they at your place or not?

She turns.

--No, Bob, they are not at my place. I told you I'd keep them away. And I have. Christ, man. And even if I hadn't, even if they were there right now shooting smack and f.u.c.king hookers, you think, you really think you could have said two words about them missing and I wouldn't have told you where they were? You think I would do that, put you through that? You are a piece of work.

--OK.

--And, OK, f.u.c.k you, but Cindy? You think I'd let Cindy worry like that? I like Cindy. We were friends. If you weren't such a tighta.s.s we'd still be friends.

--OK, Amy.

--You think I'd scare the mother of my nephews like that?

--Cool it, Amy. OK? I got it. They're not at your place. Sorry I asked.

She bites her lip, kicks the toe of her white shoe against the wall a couple times.

--It's cool. Sorry I lost it. I'm uptight about some other s.h.i.+t.

--No problem.

He looks out the window. At four stories the hospital is the tallest building in town. To the north, streetlights show him the sprawl of housing tracts and apartment complexes broken by undeveloped lots peppered with For Sale signs. Headlights on the freeway in the distance. False dawn on the horizon.

She taps the gla.s.s with a nail.

--You know they're just at someone's house. Some party.

--I know.

--Right now they're getting their stories straight.

--Sure.

--Gonna come home and say just enough of the truth so it sounds good. You remember.

--Yep. I do.

--George will do the talking. Just like you used to.

--Uh huh.

--He's gonna tell you just enough. Sorry, Dad, we had some drinks. I know that's not cool. Andy got sick and couldn't ride his bike and me and the guys didn't want to leave him there and everyone else was too drunk to drive us home. Right?

--Yeah, that'll be it.

--We should have called. Andy was sick and told me not to call because he was scared of how mad you'd be. And we just ended up, you know, pa.s.sing out. Sorry, Dad. Just like me and you, right? Except we got the belt.

--That was the price of a good time.

--If you say so, Bob. I just think it was f.u.c.ked up.

He crosses his arms.

--Can't change it now.

She pokes some loose hair behind her ear.

--No, can't change anything now.

--Nope. Sorry to bother you at work.

--It's cool.

They head back to the elevator. She pushes the b.u.t.ton for him and puts her hands in her pockets and takes them out and looks at him.

--So. Look. So you know they hang out at Jeff's place, right?

He blinks.

--Loller's?

--Uh huh. Used to anyway. I think Paul's over there a lot. Maybe Hector. George and Andy were going around to see Paul there. Mess with Jeff's old wrecks. That kind of thing.

--Since when?

--I don't know. Just heard George talk about it a couple times.

--Christ.

--But, you know, he's cool. He's just...Jeff. Just the same as he always was.

--Same as he always was. Great.

She puts a hand on his shoulder, touching her brother for the first time in a year --Bob, it's Jeff. He wouldn't let them get into any kind of trouble. He knows better. He knows better.

The elevator opens; a tired woman inside, large white teddy bear under one arm, looking at the floor.

Bob shakes his head.

--OK. OK. I'll go to see him.

--He might know where the party was last night.

--Yeah. I'll go.

--Look, Bob. I.

He puts his hand between the closing doors and they bounce open.

--Yeah?

--I. Just I got this thing going on. And.

--What?

--Nothing.

He glances at the woman, she doesn't look up.

--Something you need help with?

--Just my own problems. You got enough right now.

The doors try to close again and he blocks them.

--Ames. You need help, you call me.

--Yeah?

--Yeah. Just, just right now I got to deal with the boys. But you call tomorrow.

--OK, yeah, maybe I will. OK.

He pulls his arm back.

--Yeah, call. Whatever you need, we'll figure it out.

The doors close.

Amy walks back to the station, waves at Trudy.

--Sorry. Take an hour. I'll be fine.