pretty tall order for someone who, as far as she knew, was just another loser in night school. “Stop him how?”
“Any way you can.”
I would have thought she was a little out of her gourd if I didn’t suspect she was telling me the truth. I get a feeling from people, and more often than not it’s the right feeling. From her, I was experiencing honesty and fear and confusion. Still, even a crazy person could project honesty and fear. And pretty much everyone on the planet had a heavy case of confusion.
As I said, night school isn’t exactly a haven for the best and brightest. I’d have to learn a little more about Parker Cole, and even though I trusted her, I’d need to know things about her she wasn’t even aware of.
And I also needed to know what she knew about me. This was a little extreme for our first conversation. One minute I’m sitting across the aisle in history class, the next I’m hearing the kind of dark confession that don’t usually come up until at least the third date.
I said, “Do you want me to expose him for the fraud he is?”
“ If that will stop him, sure. Especially if it will put him in jail.”
“ Wouldn’t that ruin your life?” I asked. “Sounds like he makes good money, and all that will be gone. And you’ll wind up on Fox News as ‘The Daughter of the Monster.’”
“ I can handle all that,” she said. “That’s a lot easier to live with than knowing it’s still going on.”
“ Is your dad on to you?” I asked, knowing I sounded a bit like Dick Tracy, but sometimes there just wasn’t any better way of saying something. Besides, Dick Tracy was cat’s-pajamas cool back when I was alive.
Her eyebrows knitted themselves together. “On to me?”
“You know, does he know if you know what he’s doing?”
“ You talk funny. How old are you?”
“ Too old to rock and roll, too young to die.”
She wanted to say something else but didn’t. Parker was pretty and was probably used to getting her way. Pretty girls mostly didn’t get a reaction from me. Mostly.
“Fine,” she said petulantly, and I idly wondered if she even knew who Dick Tracy was, or Jethro Tull. Probably not. She said, “No. I don’t think he suspects anything.”
One of the guys I’d been watching at the edge of the scraggly shrubs came sauntering over. He wobbled a little, probably high on something. I could smell the cheap wine and stale tobacco and the urine, and his heart was beating faster than a little stroll would trigger.
“Trouble,” I said.
“ It’s just some homeless guy.”
“ Here’s a lesson they don’t teach you in night school, Parker. The most dangerous people are those with nothing to lose. You take a guy who is willing to strap dynamite around his waist and blow himself up in a crowd. What can you possibly threaten him with? He’s already decided his most precious asset, his life, is worthless.”
“ You sure do talk funny.”
The guy wore a ragged Seahawks T-shirt and baggy jeans. He’d lived hard, so under the lights I couldn’t tell if he was teen or middle-aged. My window was down because of the mild weather, and I wasn’t going to roll it up, because that would have shown fear.
“Yo, yo, my friends,” he said when he was three feet from the car. “What you people looking for tonight?”
“ We already found it,” I said. “Burger and fries.”
He laughed, showing dark gaps in his teeth. Meth addict, I figured. “You funny, man. But I bet you want something more.”
“We’re good,” I said. “We were just leaving.”
He leaned awkwardly into the car, his face a foot from mine, sharing the scents of all the poisons inside him. “I got what you want, and you got what I want.”
Parker instinctively clutched my arm. I wondered if she could tell my pulse was as steady as ever—six beats a minute.
“ Later,” I said to the man, but as I reached for the ignition, he thrust one clawing hand toward my throat.
I knocked it away, and
“Any way you can.”
I would have thought she was a little out of her gourd if I didn’t suspect she was telling me the truth. I get a feeling from people, and more often than not it’s the right feeling. From her, I was experiencing honesty and fear and confusion. Still, even a crazy person could project honesty and fear. And pretty much everyone on the planet had a heavy case of confusion.
As I said, night school isn’t exactly a haven for the best and brightest. I’d have to learn a little more about Parker Cole, and even though I trusted her, I’d need to know things about her she wasn’t even aware of.
And I also needed to know what she knew about me. This was a little extreme for our first conversation. One minute I’m sitting across the aisle in history class, the next I’m hearing the kind of dark confession that don’t usually come up until at least the third date.
I said, “Do you want me to expose him for the fraud he is?”
“ If that will stop him, sure. Especially if it will put him in jail.”
“ Wouldn’t that ruin your life?” I asked. “Sounds like he makes good money, and all that will be gone. And you’ll wind up on Fox News as ‘The Daughter of the Monster.’”
“ I can handle all that,” she said. “That’s a lot easier to live with than knowing it’s still going on.”
“ Is your dad on to you?” I asked, knowing I sounded a bit like Dick Tracy, but sometimes there just wasn’t any better way of saying something. Besides, Dick Tracy was cat’s-pajamas cool back when I was alive.
Her eyebrows knitted themselves together. “On to me?”
“You know, does he know if you know what he’s doing?”
“ You talk funny. How old are you?”
“ Too old to rock and roll, too young to die.”
She wanted to say something else but didn’t. Parker was pretty and was probably used to getting her way. Pretty girls mostly didn’t get a reaction from me. Mostly.
“Fine,” she said petulantly, and I idly wondered if she even knew who Dick Tracy was, or Jethro Tull. Probably not. She said, “No. I don’t think he suspects anything.”
One of the guys I’d been watching at the edge of the scraggly shrubs came sauntering over. He wobbled a little, probably high on something. I could smell the cheap wine and stale tobacco and the urine, and his heart was beating faster than a little stroll would trigger.
“Trouble,” I said.
“ It’s just some homeless guy.”
“ Here’s a lesson they don’t teach you in night school, Parker. The most dangerous people are those with nothing to lose. You take a guy who is willing to strap dynamite around his waist and blow himself up in a crowd. What can you possibly threaten him with? He’s already decided his most precious asset, his life, is worthless.”
“ You sure do talk funny.”
The guy wore a ragged Seahawks T-shirt and baggy jeans. He’d lived hard, so under the lights I couldn’t tell if he was teen or middle-aged. My window was down because of the mild weather, and I wasn’t going to roll it up, because that would have shown fear.
“Yo, yo, my friends,” he said when he was three feet from the car. “What you people looking for tonight?”
“ We already found it,” I said. “Burger and fries.”
He laughed, showing dark gaps in his teeth. Meth addict, I figured. “You funny, man. But I bet you want something more.”
“We’re good,” I said. “We were just leaving.”
He leaned awkwardly into the car, his face a foot from mine, sharing the scents of all the poisons inside him. “I got what you want, and you got what I want.”
Parker instinctively clutched my arm. I wondered if she could tell my pulse was as steady as ever—six beats a minute.
“ Later,” I said to the man, but as I reached for the ignition, he thrust one clawing hand toward my throat.
I knocked it away, and
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