The Mystic Arts Of Erasing All Signs Of Death Part 52

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. s.h.i.+t, man, I want to just, I want to try. I'm tired of. Things. I'm not saying. I don't feel feel any better. About it. I still can't think. About it. Too clearly. It still makes me want to fall asleep. But I know. It. Happened. I know I was there and the girl. I know. It. Happened. And I don't want to be him. I don't want to be L.L. I don't want this one f.u.c.ked up thing to be who I am and that's it, this is the end of my life. I do not want to feel like this, be like this forever. I mean, I'm not sure, but I think I used to be kind of a nice guy. any better. About it. I still can't think. About it. Too clearly. It still makes me want to fall asleep. But I know. It. Happened. I know I was there and the girl. I know. It. Happened. And I don't want to be him. I don't want to be L.L. I don't want this one f.u.c.ked up thing to be who I am and that's it, this is the end of my life. I do not want to feel like this, be like this forever. I mean, I'm not sure, but I think I used to be kind of a nice guy.

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 d.a.m.n 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 livingroom floor.

I nodded.

-Yeah. Without a doubt.

He pointed at the kitchen table.

-There was stuff on it?

-Um, 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 f.u.c.king phone. That is so. Oh man.

He took his face from his hands and looked at me.

-Was the guy a d.i.c.k?

-Chev, he beat his nephew to death with a f.u.c.king phone! Yes, he was a d.i.c.k.

-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, s.h.i.+t!

He sat back down.

-That's f.u.c.ked.

-Sorry.

-What sorry? f.u.c.ked 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 think? think?

He looked at me.

-Are you being a smarta.s.s? Are you being a smarta.s.s 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, f.u.c.kwit, you have some disturbing s.h.i.+t to dispose of before I get home.

He pointed at the phone and the table.

-Those. Gone. And anything else that got. Stuff Stuff on it. on it.

He looked at the kitchen.

-Telling you, Web, a weaker man than me, he'd have quit your s.h.i.+t 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 gla.s.s.

-You gonna go back to teaching?

I thought about the cla.s.sroom. 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.

-So?

-So I.

-Round two.

Gabe came back from the bar with two bottles of beer and another gin and juice for Po Sin.

I took my beer.

-Thanks.

Gabe nodded.

We all drank.

-Po Sin.

-My name. Means Grandfather Elephant. Speak it and I will answer.

-Po Sin.

I drank again.

-What'd you do with them?

Po Sin stared into his gla.s.s.

-Web, in all honesty, I have no idea what you're talking about.

I nodded.

-Sure, I get that. But. I called you. And I think, I think I need to know. I'm trying, this is new for me, but I'm trying to be kind of a grown-up. But, hey not too many examples of that in my life, so I'm flying a little blind. Anyway. Part of. I think I need to know what I'm responsible for. What things I do that make other things happen.

I picked at my beer label.

-I think I really need to know what you did to them.

Po Sin looked at Gabe.