Potential
©2010 The Angst Guy (theangstguy@yahoo.com)
Daria and associated characters are ©2010 MTV Networks
Feedback (good, bad, indifferent, just want to bother me, whatever) is appreciated. Please write to: theangstguy@yahoo.com
Synopsis: Quinn Morgendorffer meets the man of her dreams, but the potential for nightmare is there, too, in this post-IICY? continuation of the second-season Daria episode, “That Was Then, This Is Dumb.”
Author’s Notes: On PPMB in September 2003, Bower of Bliss (Tafka) issued an “Iron Chef” challenge to write a story in which a minor Daria character was given a major role and kept in canon, with Daria herself in a subplot. Ethan Yeager, the son of ex-hippies Willow and Coyote from “That Was Then, This Is Dumb,” was one of the minor characters offered. This story appeared on PPMB in mid-March 2004. Part of this tale’s inspiration came from a Daria webpage on the MTV website in which Daria and Quinn offer their opinions of certain recent movies, among them the drug film Traffic.
Two sequels to “Potential” have been written by other authors: “Redemption,” by Atimnie; and “Vengeance,” by Bacner.
Since writing this story, I have not been able to hear R.E.M.’s “Man on the Moon” without thinking of Quinn and Ethan. Dido’s “White Flag” (the nameless song playing in the background at the mall when they first kiss: “I will go down with this ship / And I won’t put my hands up and surrender / There will be no white flag above my door / I’m in love and always will be”) has much the same effect. It’s hard to hear it now.
Acknowledgements: My gratitude goes out to Bower of Bliss for her fine challenge.
*
“Quinn! Daria!” Jake Morgendorffer shouted upstairs to his two
daughters. “Guess who’s coming to visit! Go ahead, guess!”
Unwillingly
nudged into wakefulness, red-haired Quinn raised an eyelid and dully regarded
the bedside clock. It was 8:24 a.m. on a Saturday in mid-June. School was out
and no major sales were scheduled in any clothing store in Lawndale, so no
reason existed to get up. Bed was the one and only place to be.
“Come
on, kids!” called their father. “You have to guess! Try it!”
Her
sister Daria’s laconic voice drifted from her room down the hall. “Dad, it’s a
federal law that teenage girls have to sleep late on Saturday mornings. Their
brain chemistry and monthly cycles go out of sync otherwise.”
“What?
Is that—oh, it’s not, is it? Was there a lawsuit or something?”
“A kid
in California won sixteen million and divorced her parents. It was in the
papers a year ago.”
Daria,
bless her sarcastic heart, could shovel out bull crap by the truckload to keep
their father occupied until he gave up. Quinn pulled the covers over her ears
to muffle the sound. Her eyes began to close again.
“Really? Helen, can I legally wake the girls up if there’s
no—”
“Jake!”
shouted his wife. “Get them up!”
“Right! Come on, girls! Guess who’s coming over!”
“Santa
Claus went on a summer joyride, wrecked his sleigh, and needs a lift back to
the North Pole?”
“Nope! Guess again! Oh, Helen, wait—”
Loud
footsteps came rapidly upstairs. Quinn pulled the covers over her head as the
noise level rose. It didn’t help.
“Daria! Quinn!” Helen Morgendorffer shouted as she reached
the top of the stairs. “We’re about to have company! He called and said he’d be
here in just over an hour! Get up and come down right now!”
“Is this
get-together clothing optional?” Daria called. A year and a half Quinn’s
senior, Daria had just graduated high school and would be shoving off for
college in Boston in a couple of months.
“Fully
dressed, of course!” shouted their mother. “It’s Ethan Yeager! He’s driven all
the way across the United States to drop off a present for us!”
Ethan?
Ethan Yeager? Quinn blinked and pushed the covers back to reveal her nose,
reluctantly clearing her sleep-fogged mind.
“Helen,
damn it!” yelled Jake from downstairs. “This was my game! You weren’t supposed
to give out the answer!”
“Oh, Jake, for heaven’s sake! Get up, girls!”
Quinn
remembered Ethan well from the time two years earlier when his parents came by
for a visit, driving their silly Volkswagen Beetle—canary yellow, what were
they thinking? The Yeagers were never-say-die hippies, old college friends of
Quinn’s parents. They were hopelessly out of touch where fashion was concerned
and clueless about the real world, except for their niche market in selling
hemp-woven hammocks. Quinn suspected the Yeagers were potheads in secret. It
wouldn’t surprise her a bit.
Ethan,
however, was a hottie—a tall, quiet, broad-shouldered, gray-eyed hunk with
brown hair and enormous potential. Quiet guys intrigued the talkative Quinn. He
was also two years older than Quinn, now seventeen, which didn’t hurt at all. Not at all.
“If he
has a sack full of money, nothing lower than twenties,” Daria called, “I’ll
come down in my underwear.”
“Daria,
stop it! Get in the bathroom and get dressed!”
“Fine. I think I have a burlap sack I can pull on. It isn’t
clean, but no one will mind.”
Then
again, Quinn reflected, Ethan was perhaps too calm. When he’d visited
last, he had been the teenage slacker king: slump shouldered, apathetic, prone
to mumble “whatever” in response to any comment—but also short on proper
compliments on Quinn’s natural cuteness and beauty. What was the fun in going
out with someone like that, no matter how hot he looked?
“Wear
something other than that dreadful outfit you always wear!” Helen shouted at
Daria’s door. “Something... striking!”
“My one-piece
swimsuit and a pair of boots should do it.”
“No!
Don’t you have anything in your closet other than green jackets and black
skirts?”
“Nightshirts? Winter coat?”
Ethan
was probably still broke, too, like his parents. He probably still slept all
day when he could, and he probably had no interest in Quinn unless she was
willing to buy food for him. Maybe Ethan wouldn’t mind going out with her
friend, Stacy Rowe. She had dibs on Quinn’s higher-quality cast-off dates.
Stacy could talk, and Ethan could nod once in a while. It would work.
“What is
it going to take to get you to adopt a different look, Daria?”
Quinn
heard Daria sigh. “That’s a very good question, an excellent question, and I’m
glad you—”
“Ten?”
“Fifty.”
“Fifteen?”
“Goodnight,
Mom.”
“Ethan’s
going to be here in a few minutes! You have to get up, damn it!”
On the
other hand, Ethan knew a lot of secrets about Quinn’s parents, lifted from his
own parents, who had hung out with Jake and Helen through college and after, in
the late 1960s and early ‘70s. Some of those secrets had been quite valuable
later in negotiating increases in allowances and reductions in punishments from
Mom and Dad when the girls came home late. And, when he was eating, Ethan was a
much more interesting conversationalist, even if he wasn’t paying for the meal.
At least he was inexpensive.
“Quinn!”
Her mother pounded on her bedroom door. “Come out of there!”
It might
not be a bad thing to hang out with him for an afternoon. And, true, if Ethan
had matured, if even a little of his potential had been realized since Quinn
had seen him last, he would be hot indeed.
“Qui—!” Helen’s shout was interrupted when the bedroom door
was flung open and her youngest daughter bolted past her and into the bathroom,
locking the door behind her. “Quinn?” she said as an afterthought.
Her
brown hair frizzed out like a failed static-electricity experiment, Daria
opened the door to her bedroom and came out, yawning. She walked past her
mother and tried the bathroom door, but discovered it was locked. “Curses,” she
said with a shrug, and she walked back into her room to climb into bed again.
“Get in
the bathroom as soon as Quinn’s out, okay?” Helen called to Daria, then went downstairs again to fix a snack for Ethan, in case
driving to
* * *
Quinn
was dressed and downstairs in forty minutes, while her sister was still trying
to wake up in the shower. Her blue-jean shorts and bright red halter top were
accented with an ivory scarf, white sneakers, and a little patriotic jewelry.
She hadn’t tried this ensemble in a long while, and it was just a couple of
weeks away from the Fourth of July. Wandering into the kitchen, Quinn found her
mother setting out brunch on the table in the dining nook. “Is Daria dressed
yet?” Helen asked as she dropped napkins at every plate.
“No.”
Quinn picked up a carrot stick and ate it. “When’s Ethan supposed to get here?”
she said as she chewed.
“He said
he’d be here around nine-thirty, but the Yeagers are sort of laid back, so who
knows. He said he was—” Helen stopped, eyeing her youngest daughter for the
first time. “I... don’t think that halter top is appropriate, dear.”
“Oh,
Mom, it’s fine! Don’t worry! Tell me what he said.”
Helen
sighed, giving her daughter one last glance before finishing with the napkins.
“He said he was coming in alone. I’m surprised Willow and Coyote aren’t with
him. He did say he couldn’t stay, but maybe—” Helen stopped again, looking her
daughter over. “Maybe he could stay in a hotel for a night and stretch his
visit, if he can.”
“Why not
let him sleep over? He can have the guest room.”
“No, no,
I think a hotel would be better. A lot better.” Helen
went to the refrigerator and began pulling a few more items out of it to
complete the brunch setting.
Quinn
shrugged, knowing there was no point in pushing the issue now. Besides, she
might be glad to have Ethan sleep in a hotel if he hadn’t improved since she’d
seen him last. She was reaching for another carrot stick when she heard the low
roar of a truck engine pulling up outside. Walking into the living room, Quinn
parted a curtain and peered out the front window.
An
enormous, bright-yellow Hummer had pulled up along the street in front of the
house. It was a four-door sport-utility wagon, still sparkling from the
carwash, though numerous small dents and scratches could be seen. The vehicle
was outfitted with numerous lights on the roof and a winch on the heavy bumper
in front. A small black two-wheel trailer was attached.
The
driver got down from the vehicle as she watched. Moments later, Ethan Yeager
came around the front of the Hummer and walked toward the house with his thumbs
in his jeans pockets. A breeze ruffled his long brown hair.
Quinn’s
jaw dropped. The only child of Willow and Coyote Yeager was now over six feet
tall, deeply tanned, and muscled like a weightlifter. He wore a turquoise
short-sleeved shirt, navy-blue jeans, and dark brown cowboy boots. A silvery
watch sparkled on his left wrist. Even from across the yard, she could see his
pale gray eyes.
Improved. That was such a weak word.
Quinn
was out the front door in zero time. She stopped and waved to him from the
front step. It was never good to look too eager.
“Hey!
Good to see you again!” she called, casual and calm and smiling like the sun.
“You’re early! Did you have a good drive?”
Ethan’s
gaze was fixed on her as he walked up. The top two buttons of his shirt were
undone, and it was hard to look away from his broad, perspiring chest. For some
reason, Quinn had the impression that he looked sad. She shook it off, wanting
to be positive.
“Hi,” he
said. He put out an enormous hand, and it swallowed hers as they shook. His
skin was warm and hard, not too soft and not too rough.
“Hi,”
said Quinn faintly. “Won’t you come in?”
Ethan
considered this, then nodded. “Okay.” After a moment,
he added, “Thanks.”
“Oh,
don’t mention it. You first.” So I can get a good
look at you from behind, she added to herself.
He
passed Quinn. It was then that she smelled him, and the scent hit her brain and
all she wanted to do was get close to him and get her hands under that shirt
and find out what he knew about kissing. She looked him up and down as he went
inside. He’d improved, all right. He’d blown the top off the improve-o-meter.
Helen
and Jake came into the living room together just as Ethan walked in. “Ethan!”
Helen cried, giving him a hug. “Oh, my God! How you’ve
grown! And aren’t you handsome! Woof!”
“Ethan, my man!” Jake said happily, shaking his hand and
clapping him on the shoulder at the same time. “A chip off
the old Coyote! How’ve you been doing?”
“Okay,”
said Ethan. He appeared uncomfortable as he looked around the room.
“Well,
sit down!” said Helen. “Oh, are you hungry? I was just making a little
something for brunch. I’m almost done putting it out in the kitchen. Have you
eaten anything this morning?”
“Uh,
no,” Ethan said. He appeared more attentive now that food had been mentioned.
Quinn smirked. Same old Ethan on the inside—maybe.
She’d know soon enough.
Chattering
away, Quinn’s parents escorted Ethan to the kitchen and got him seated at the
table. Quinn made sure she got the seat on his right. She sat close enough that
they unavoidably rubbed arms.
“Quinn,
dear,” said Helen, “go see what’s keeping your sister.”
“Who? Oh, she’s fine,” said Quinn, looking at Ethan.
Her
mother’s voice hardened. “Now, Quinn.”
“Okay.”
Quinn turned her head. “Daria!” she called, and then she looked back at Ethan.
“She’ll be down eventually,” she said. “So, Ethan, how was your trip?”
Groaning,
Helen walked out of the kitchen to the stairs. “Keep an eye on things, Jake,”
she warned as she left, watching Quinn. Jake nodded and continued trying to get
mayonnaise out of a nearly empty jar.
“Trip,”
said Ethan, reaching for the plate of cold cuts. “S’okay. Left
Thursday morning.”
“See
anything interesting on the way?” asked Quinn. “Oh, could you pass the salad?”
Ethan
nodded and passed the salad. She stared at his hands. She didn’t remember them
being so large. When she took the salad bowl from him, her arm pressed against
his from elbow to shoulder. She had to think hard to know what to do with the
bowl next.
“So, how
are your mom and dad doing?” asked Jake. “We haven’t heard from them in almost
a year. They been having lots of movement on those all-natural hemp-fiber
hammocks? Did Coyote get his website built? Online marketing and sales are the
way to go these days, you know, but you still need the brick-and-mortar.”
Ethan
paused in the midst of emptying a bowl of sweet pickles onto his plate. He
sighed heavily and his expression became sad again. Quinn knew instinctively
that something was very wrong. She fought the urge to put a hand on his arm for
comfort.
After a
moment, Ethan set the bowl of pickles down. “Well,” he began, but said nothing
else for a long moment. He stared at his plate, chewing his lower lip.
Helen
walked back into the kitchen. “Daria will be down shortly,” she said, taking a
seat. “She’s out of the shower, at least. What did I miss?”
“Oh,
Ethan’s telling us how the hammock business is going!” said Jake. “I gave them
the four-one-one on Internet sales and credit-card use online, and now I’m sure
they can’t keep up with the business! That right, Ethan?”
“Well,”
said Ethan slowly, “not really.” He leaned back in his chair, hands falling to
his lap, and looked across the table at the empty chair where Daria usually
sat.
“Oh,
no!” said Jake. “Business not doing so well?”
Ethan
paused, then shook his head no.
“Your
mom and dad,” said Helen with concern. “Are they well?”
Again,
Ethan shook his head. “No,” he said.
Both
Helen and Jake gasped. “Are they all right?” asked Jake. “They’re still
together, aren’t they?”
A pause. “No,” said Ethan softly.
“Oh, my God.” Stricken, Helen put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God. Are they separated?”
A pause. “Sort of.”
Quinn
reached up without thinking and put a hand on his arm. She steeled herself,
knowing there was more news but not knowing what it was.
“Sort of?” repeated Helen. “Ethan, please, tell us what happened.”
Ethan
slowly let his breath out. His face registered defeat. “They went to prison,”
he said.
The
silence was broken when a fork fell from Jake’s hand and rattled loudly on his
plate. “They what?” he said.
“Mom and
Dad are in prison,” said Ethan, his voice low. “Mom’s near Phoenix, Dad’s in
Yuma.”
“You
don’t mean they’re actually in prison, do you?”
said Helen. “Not like they’re prisoners?”
Ethan
nodded.
Helen’s
mouth fell open. “That can’t be,” she said.
“What
happened?” Quinn said.
Ethan
swallowed. “Drugs,” he said.
Quinn
took her hand from Ethan’s arm and stared at him. Even her expectation of this
possibility could not prepare her for the shock.
Helen
leaned forward over her plate, her eyes almost popping out of her head. “Drugs?”
she said in a loud, rising voice. “They were selling drugs?”
Ethan’s
hands went into his lap. “They needed money for a warehouse. They had too many
orders, not enough hammocks. They hired workers but didn’t have a place for the
hammocks before shipping, so they tried to get cash for a small warehouse.” He
gave a small shrug. “They sold pot, and that helped, but then they tried to
sell a lot of it at once, thinking they could hide it with the hammocks. You
know, so the dogs couldn’t sniff it out, since it’s
all hemp.” He looked up from Jake to Helen. “Didn’t work.”
“They were selling pot?” said Jake.
His face was slack and pale.
Ethan
nodded. “They said hi,” he added. “Saw ‘em before I left.”
“How
much pot?” asked Jake. “I mean, how much were they
selling?”
“Uh... just over nine hundred kilos.”
“Nine hundred kilos?” Jake shouted, aghast. “They
were trying to sell a goddamn ton of marijuana?”
“Jake!”
shouted Helen, but she looked as horrified as he did.
“Nine hundred... Mother of God!” Jake slumped back into his chair.
“When
did this happen?” asked Helen quickly.
Ethan
tilted his head back, thinking. “Got caught in November.”
“Were
they sentenced?”
A barely perceptible nod. “Last month. Mom got ten, Dad
twelve.”
“Willow
got ten what? Years?” said Helen, her face blank.
Ethan
nodded, looking at his plate.
Helen’s
voice rose to a shriek. “Willow got ten years in prison for selling a ton of
pot?”
It was
dead quiet as Ethan nodded yes.
“You’re
not pulling our legs on this, are you, son?” asked Jake, trying to smile. “Just a little?”
Ethan
looked at Jake and shook his head. He reached into a back pants pocket, his arm
brushing against Quinn’s. Pulling out his wallet, he opened it and removed a
scrap of paper, which he handed to Jake. “Their addresses, if you wanna write.
Phone numbers are on the bottom.”
Helen
immediately got up and walked over to peer at the paper scrap over Jake’s
shoulder. “Oh, my God,” she said when she saw the paper. “That’s their
handwriting.” Her hands covered her mouth again. “Oh, dear God, this can’t be
happening.”
“What
about you?” Quinn asked Ethan, before she thought through what she was saying.
“Nothing,”
he said. “They let me go. I wasn’t doing it.”
“No,”
said Quinn quickly. “I meant, what have you been doing while all this was going
on?”
“Oh. Talking to lawyers. Talking to Mom and
Dad. Sitting around.”
“They
did this on their own?” asked Helen. “Selling drugs?”
“Yeah.” Ethan sighed and looked over the table. He did not
appear hungry now. “Supplier got caught, too. He got forty-five, second
arrest.”
Jake
looked up from the address and phone numbers. “What about the business?”
“Feds
took it. Either for evidence or for auction.”
“Did you
keep the house?” asked Helen.
“No. Seized it, too.”
“My God,
where have you been living, Ethan?”
“In my car. With friends, sometimes.”
“What
about money?”
“I got a
bank account, credit card.” He made a noise like a laugh, without smiling.
“Used up my college fund.”
“You
spent your college fund?”
“Yeah.” Ethan slowly pushed back from the table and stood.
“I better go. Uh, I got something for you. In the trailer.
Outside.”
Two
minutes later, the four of them stood beside the Hummer. Ethan was undoing the
canvas covering the trailer.
“Where’d
you get this?” Jake asked, looking at the Hummer. “Aren’t these babies expen—” He bit off the word.
“It
wasn’t drug money,” said Ethan evenly, as if he’d answered that question many
times now. He threw back the canvas and reached into the trailer. “I used my
college fund.”
“You bought
this with your college fund?” Helen repeated. “But aren’t you going to
college?”
Ethan
gave a derisive snort. He walked over to Helen and Jake with two duffle bags,
one in each huge hand. “Here,” he said. “They wanted you to have these. Cops
said it was okay.”
The
Morgendorffers each took a duffle bag, but neither moved to open it. “What’s in
these?” asked Jake.
“Hammock,”
said Ethan. “One in each. Plus some pictures, candles,
things they wanted you to have. Nothing much. Old
college stuff, I think.”
Helen
undid the snap on her bag and opened it. “Oh,” she said, staring. She reached
in and pulled out a colorful handmade peasant blouse. “I remember this,” she
said after a long moment. “Your mother made it. I always liked it.”
Ethan
glanced at Quinn and grimaced, looking away. “I gotta go,” he said.
“Wait,”
said Helen. She put down the blouse. Her eyes were bright with tears and
getting red. “Ethan, don’t go yet. Come back inside and finish your lunch.”
He shook
his head, looking anxious. “I better not. I gotta go.”
“Where?”
asked Quinn. “Where do you have to go?”
He
looked away and did not answer.
He
has nowhere to go, Quinn realized. This is it. He has nowhere left to
go.
“Stay
with us a little while longer, okay?” said Jake. “You just got here.”
“Quinn,”
said Helen quickly. “Take Ethan back inside so he can eat. We’ll be inside in a
minute.”
“Okay.”
Quinn motioned to Ethan. “Come on.” When he didn’t move, she stepped up, caught
him by a bicep, and pulled. “Come on!” she said, using the Voice. It was the
tone she used when she meant for a guy to do something for her right then, and
it never failed. She pulled, and he gave in and followed where she led, his
head down.
Quinn
looked back when they reached the doorway. Her mother had pulled a cell phone
from a pocket and was dialing a number while holding a scrap of paper in her other hand.
Moments
later, Quinn led Ethan into the kitchen. It was there that they found Daria,
sitting at her place at the table picking cold cuts out for a sandwich. She was
dressed as she always was: big glasses, green jacket, black skirt, orange tee,
black boots, the usual.
“Hi,”
said Daria, eyeing Ethan and Quinn with curiosity. “What’d I miss?”
Rather
than go into the matter with Ethan around, Quinn found it easier and more
tactful to take Daria aside in the living room and explain the situation in
whispers, while Ethan put together his brunch in the kitchen nook.
“So,”
said Daria, when Quinn finished, “Ethan’s parents are in prison for the next
ten years?”
Quinn nodded.
“I can’t believe it!” she whispered.
“Neither
can I,” said Daria impassively. “Some people have all
the luck. Ouch!” She rubbed her arm and backed up, glaring.
Quinn
held up her fist. “Say that again, and you’ll get it twice as hard.” Furious,
she turned on her heel and walked back into the kitchen. Her expression changed
to one of forced cheer. “Ethan, how are you coming with your sandwich? I can’t
believe you have such an appetite!”
“Eh,” he
said. The sandwich he was making from the cold cuts was enormous. Quinn was
secretly glad she wasn’t footing a lunch outing for him. He ate like a
Clydesdale now.
“So,”
she said, and then she stopped, hearing someone come into the kitchen. It was
Daria. The two sisters glared at each other, but Daria settled down at her
usual place and picked up where she’d left off a few minutes earlier with her
meal.
“So,”
Quinn went on, sitting down next to Ethan, “when did you get your Hummer?”
“Hummer?”
said Daria, who hadn’t yet looked outside.
“October,”
he said. “Before everything happened.”
Quinn
tossed her hair. “Why’d you use your college fund? I mean, if you don’t mind my
asking.”
He
shrugged. It seemed to be the only gesture he knew. “I was going to help in the
business. Selling stuff. I was doing mail order,
running the website.”
“You
wanted to work before going to school?” Daria asked. Quinn shot daggers at her,
but Daria ignored it.
“Yeah.” He picked up his sandwich and studied it. “Thought
I’d work a couple years, then go in with some extra money.”
“Where
were you going to go?” asked Daria, interrupting Quinn’s next question.
“Southern
Cal,” he said. “Doesn’t matter now.” He bit into the
sandwich, ending his part of the conversation.
The
quiet moment ended when the front door opened and footsteps came inside. Helen
and Jake reappeared in the kitchen with haggard expressions. They took their
seats at the table.
“Ethan,”
said Helen gently, “why don’t you stay with us tonight, at least? We have a
guest room. We haven’t seen you for so long, and we want to know more about
your mom and dad’s situation. This has been such a shock. Why didn’t you call
and tell us, or why didn’t they?”
Everyone
waited until Ethan swallowed. He shrugged. “Didn’t want to bother you,” he
said. “Didn’t really want to talk about it.”
“Son,”
said Jake, “you’ve always got friends here, okay? We want you to know that.
Coyote and Willow are our oldest friends. I mean, they’re not the oldest, you
know, in years, but we’ve known them the longest. You know what I mean, right?
Look, you ever need some help, you ask us first, okay?”
“Okay.”
Ethan’s face cleared for a moment. “Thanks.”
“Sure
thing!” said Jake. He tried to busy himself with making a sandwich, but the
cold cuts were gone. He got up and went to the refrigerator for more.
Helen’s
cell phone went off, playing Richard Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.” “Excuse
me!” she said, and she quickly pulled out her phone and left the room.
“Probably
the prison calling back,” said Jake absently as he looked in the refrigerator.
He flinched and winced with embarrassment, but Ethan did not seem to be
bothered by the comment.
“Hey,”
said Quinn, pulling on Ethan’s arm, “how about you and me going out for a drive
after lunch? I’ve never seen a Hummer.”
Daria
looked up and opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it, fighting a
smirk.
“Shut
up, Daria,” Quinn said out of the side of her mouth.
“I
didn’t say anything,” Daria protested, still fighting the smirk.
“Where
are you planning to go?” asked Jake, sitting down at the table with more cold
cuts. “I mean, did you have anywhere you have to be anytime soon?”
Stopped
from taking another bite of his sandwich, Ethan hesitated and pondered this. “I
was going back to Arizona,” he said at last. “I see Mom and Dad once a week on
visitation.”
“That
must be hard to do,” said Quinn. “I can’t imagine what it would be like seeing
your own parents in jail. I think I would freak out or something. I dunno.”
Ethan
took another bite of his sandwich without responding.
“Are you
going back to Arizona to stay, then?” Daria asked.
“Mmm-hmm,”
said Ethan through the sandwich.
“You
have a job there?”
Before
Ethan could answer Daria’s question, Helen walked back into the kitchen, arms
at her sides, cell phone in hand. She looked weary beyond words. “Well,” she
said as she sat down with a thump, setting the cell phone by her plate.
“Who was
it?” asked Daria.
Helen
rubbed her arms. “I talked with the public affairs office where your mom is
at,” she said to Ethan. “They’ll give her permission to call us collect about
two this afternoon, if everything works out. She won’t be able to talk for very
long, maybe ten minutes at most, and it will be recorded. Do you want to talk
to her?”
Ethan
swallowed and shook his head. “I talked to her already,” he said. “You can talk
to her. I’ll call her tomorrow from the car. We have a time worked out.”
“You
have a phone in your Hummer?”
“Yeah. Don’t use it much. Calling my parents, emergencies,
that’s all.”
Helen
put a hand over her mouth and looked out the sliding glass door behind Daria.
“I just can’t believe this. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Where’s
Leary?” Jake asked suddenly, thinking of the Yeager’s brown, apathetic German
shepherd. “Old Leary doing okay?”
Ethan
hesitated again, then shook his head no. “He got
sick,” he said, his voice getting rough. “Put him to sleep, January.”
“I
think,” said Quinn in the silence that followed, “that we should take a long
drive and see some sights, if that’s okay with you, Ethan.”
“That
would be a good idea,” said Helen in a dull voice. “Take a few hours, if you
would. Try to get back by four, so we can plan dinner out somewhere.”
“Sure,”
said Quinn. Her hand automatically ran up and down Ethan’s back in a comforting
gesture. She felt his muscles tense, then relax. Touching
him made Quinn feel better, too. She was becoming depressed.
“Ethan?”
said Daria. “Can I ask a question?” She did not look at her sister, who gave
her a threatening stare.
“Sure,”
said Ethan.
“Why a Hummer?”
“Oh.” He
wiped his mouth on his napkin, then spoke slowly. “We
lived way out in the desert, southwest of Phoenix. Needed it
for getting around. Road to the house was kinda rough. Used to bust up the VW’s shocks and tires.”
“It’s
your car?”
He
nodded.
“Were
your parents okay with you getting that thing?” Daria asked.
Ethan
shrugged after a delay. He looked uncomfortable.
“Sort of
expensive, wasn’t it?” Daria went on.
“So?”
shot Quinn. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Daria,”
said Helen in a warning tone.
“They’re
thirty or forty thousand even used, aren’t they?” Daria said, unperturbed.
“Shut up!”
Quinn hissed.
“Yeah,”
said Ethan in a low, even tone. “Grandma Yeager’s college
fund. Took most of it.” He pushed away from the
table. “Wasn’t very smart, I guess.”
“Daria,”
said Helen, her voice hardening, “why don’t you go fix the guest room for
Ethan. He’ll stay over tonight.”
“No,
it’s okay,” said Ethan, starting to get up again. “I should—”
Quinn
stood up and grabbed his arm again, pressing herself against his side. “Sit down,
Ethan,” she said, using the Voice again.
He sat
down. Daria sighed, tossed her napkin on her plate, and got to her feet. “I’ll
fix your room,” she said. “I apologize for my questions. Just
curious.”
“S’okay,”
said Ethan. “I’m sorry.”
“My
fault,” said Daria. She left the room without another word or a look back.
“Teenagers,”
said Jake, and he coughed.
They
finished their meal in silence, then Quinn and Ethan
made ready to leave. “We’ll be back before five,” she told her mother.
“Four,”
Helen corrected. “We’re going out, and I want time to talk with him before we
go. I have some calls to make, and I want to catch Willow when she calls
collect, if they let her.”
“Okay.”
Quinn
turned to go. A hand fell on her shoulder, and she stopped and looked back at
her mother. Helen started to say something, but whatever it was, it did not
come out as she wanted. “Have fun,” was all she finally said.
Quinn
and Ethan left after that. Ethan pulled the front door shut after Quinn went
out, then walked with her to the Hummer.
“It
stands out, doesn’t it?” Quinn said, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Yeah. Wanted it like that, case they had to find the car by
air in the desert.” Ethan opened the passenger door for her, then
held out a hand. “You have to kinda pull yourself up once you get on that
step,” he said. “Careful of your head.” Quinn took his
hand, climbed up, and got into the seat. It was more comfortable than she’d
thought it would be. The inside of the Hummer was clean, but it smelled of oil
as well as air freshener. She did not recall ever being up so high in a car
before, not even other SUVs.
As Ethan
walked around to the driver’s door, Quinn leaned down to feel for the
seat-adjustment bar, hoping to move her seat forward a few inches. With her head
down at her knees, she happened to look around as her right hand grasped the
bar.
Under
the driver’s seat to her left, set back and shielded by metal plates so that no
one could easily see them, were two large, black pistol butts. They were
holstered upside down and tilted to the sides slightly, and Quinn could not
figure out why until she realized that the driver could reach down and grasp
both pistols at once and pull them from their holsters under the seat with no
trouble at all.
She sat
upright instantly, knowing that Ethan would open the driver’s door at any
moment. He did, and he got in beside her with careless ease.
“Ready?”
he asked, looking right at her with a bland look.
Quinn
nodded rapidly, looking out the passenger window at her home. The thought came
to her that she might not ever see it again, and a sudden urge to throw open
the door and jump out and run for her life came—
—and
went.
“Ready,”
she said, looking back at him and forcing a smile.
They
pulled on their safety harnesses. Ethan put the key in the ignition, turned it,
and the Hummer started with a low roar. He put it into gear and they pulled
away from the curb, heading down the street and away, rounding a curve at the
end of Glen Oaks Lane. “Where to?” asked Ethan.
Quinn
thought quickly. “Go through the next intersection, and I’ll guide you out of
the subdivision. It’s a little complicated but not too bad. We can check out
the mall. It used to be called Cranberry Commons, but some other company bought
it and now it’s the Lawndale Mall. Like, duh.”
“Okay.”
Ethan might not be a scintillating conversationalist, but he was an alert
driver, at least. The ride in the Hummer was smoother than Quinn had expected,
too. Comfortable, even, and she liked the sense of power she had, looking down
on other drivers.
“We’ll
have some fun this afternoon,” she said brightly, trying to put the image of
the pistols out of her head. “Oh, turn right on Hyden.
That leads you back out to Marcil Johnson Avenue and
to the mall. What are you doing back in Arizona?”
“Not
much.” Ethan turned right.
“Do you
have a job?”
“Heh. Did, till last November. Not
now. Lost track of things because of the court stuff.
Just see Mom and Dad, talk to friends, not much else.”
Quinn
noticed a CD player on the dashboard. “How about some music?”
“Oh.
Sure.” Ethan took a hand from the wheel and pointed to the glove compartment in
front of Quinn’s knees. “Some CDs in there. Listened to them on the way in.” He reached forward and
poked the button for the CD player. After a moment, a song began with a man and
a guitar.
Mott the Hoople
and the Game of Life.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Andy Kaufman in the
wrestling match.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
“Is this
R.E.M.?” asked Quinn. It was a silly question, she supposed. The glove compartment
was full of R.E.M. CDs.
“Yeah. It’s my favorite group.”
Let’s play Twister, let’s play Risk.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
See you in heaven if you make the list.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Quinn
stopped singing the “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” refrain and turned the volume down
slightly. “Is there any chance you could put the business back together again?”
she asked, raising her voice to be heard. “Run it yourself, you know?”
He shook
his head, lips pressed tight together, then said,
“Feds took everything.”
“How can
they do that? I don’t get it. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well,”
he said, slowing as they approached a stop sign, “Mom and Dad were selling pot,
a lot of it, and that put everything they had out as fair game if they got
busted.” He sighed heavily. “It’s all gone.”
Did he
know beforehand that his parents were selling dope? Quinn wasn’t sure if this
was a good time to ask. Maybe later, if at all. “Tell
me what kinds of things you’re interested in,” she said at last. Guys always
liked to talk about themselves, almost as much as Quinn usually liked talking
about herself—except for today.
He shook
his head. “Not much lately.” It was a long moment before he spoke again. “Kinda worried about Mom and Dad.”
“About
them in jail, you mean? Turn left at the light, onto Johnson.”
“Yeah.”
“Well...
nothing much is going to happen to them for a while, right?”
Ethan
frowned. “Not exactly,” he said. “Dad got beaten up three weeks ago. I don’t
know what it was about, but they broke his nose and beat him up pretty bad.
People he’s with are big-time convicts, most of them.” He made a frustrated
noise as he pulled up to a stoplight and waited to turn onto the main highway. “Can’t do anything about it. I can’t protect him and I can’t
make the guards protect him. No one listens to me. It really gets to me.”
Quinn
blinked, aghast at the news. “Someone beat up your dad? That’s awful! Why would
anyone do that?”
“Dunno.”
The light changed, and he turned left with the traffic. “Mom’s having a rough
time, too. The guards and the other prisoners aren’t being good to her. She
won’t talk about it, but I know something’s going on. Really pisses me off.” He
bit down on his lower lip and said nothing until they got to the mall parking
lot.
“Turn in
anywhere here,” Quinn said in a subdued tone. She had several ideas about what
might be happening to his mother in prison, and none of them were good.
Ethan
parked the Hummer and trailer across two spaces, about thirty feet from the
other cars. When he turned off the engine and the CD player, he undid his
safety harness but sat back in his seat, making no move to get out. Quinn
looked at him and waited.
“I don’t
know why they did it,” he said, looking out the front windshield. “I think
about it all the time, and I don’t know why they did it. I don’t know.” He
rubbed his face. “They knew it was wrong, and they could get caught. I just
don’t...” He waved a hand. “Whatever.”
“Did you
talk to them about it?” Quinn asked—and a moment later realized she was also
asking him if he knew beforehand what his parents had been doing. She pulled
back, fearing his reaction.
He
exhaled and shrugged, dropping his hand to the door handle. “Wanna go in?”
“Yeah.” Quinn pushed opened the door on her side—and froze,
looking down at the distant pavement.
“Wait,
let me get over there,” Ethan said. He jumped down, shut his door, and walked
around to her side. He raised both arms and gently lifted her down to the
pavement. He felt infinitely strong.
“Thanks,”
she said, running a hand through her long red hair. She could still feel where
he’d held her. He clicked a door-locking button on his key chain, and they set
out for the mall entrance.
“I owe
you,” he said as they walked.
“For what?”
“Last
time we were here, buying lunch for me. I was broke. I’ll get you a slush cup
or something, if you want.”
“Sure!
That’d be great.” To her surprise, Quinn had not been thinking at all about
what he could get for her, as she usually did with guys on dates. In the back
of her mind, she thought Ethan was still broke, though he obviously wasn’t.
The
problem was deeper than that, though. In a weird way, going out with Ethan was
more like being out with a guy friend who didn’t have to do anything to impress
her because she took him as he was. And what could Quinn ask for from a guy who
carried guns in his car? He could be dangerous, though she instinctively felt
he was not a threat to her. There was a dark side there, she could tell that.
Better to just go with the flow and see where things led—but to be careful, of
course. Always careful.
They
walked to the mall doors in silence. I should probably have my head examined
once I get back, she thought. Never go out with a guy whose parents are
in prison on drug charges, that’s going to be the first rule in my date book
from now on. But if that’s so, why am I not going home? I could tell him to
take me home right now, and he’d do it. I know he would. Maybe that’s why I
want to be out with him. I really do need my head examined. Maybe Daria can
figure it out, if she can shut off the smart remarks.
She looked up at Ethan at
the entrance and noticed he was scanning the parking lot behind them, eyes
narrowed. She looked around but noticed nothing unusual.
“Usual
Saturday crowd,” she said. He grunted, then opened the mall door and held it
for her as she went in. They set out at a leisurely pace, side by side.
“I hope
things work out for your parents,” she said, unable to think of much else to
say on the matter. Soft rock music played from overhead speakers, echoing down
the halls of the mall.
“Me,
too,” he said, “but I don’t count on it.”
She
wanted to ask more, but a crowded shopping center was a bad place for this kind
of talk. “Anywhere you want to go?” she asked, and was again surprised because
she usually picked all the places to go on a date.
“Just
walking’s okay.”
“This is
a good place for it.” For a moment she almost began to direct them toward a
clothing store, but she sensed it wasn’t a good idea and subsided. Better to
just let things happen, for once.
At the
Orange Joy kiosk, he bought two triple-orange slush cups, giving one to her. He
pulled a roll of bills from a pants pocket and peeled one off to pay for them.
He tried to hide the money as he did, but of course he got change, which proved
he’d given the clerk a fifty. Quinn pretended not to notice, but his roll of
bills had been big. College fund? Something
else?
As they
started walking again, their unoccupied hands bumped together. Quinn slipped
her hand into his and squeezed, as if it were the most natural thing in the
world. It felt right. After a moment, he squeezed back lightly.
“That’s
the pet shop I worked at for a few weeks, like a year ago,” she said, pointing
with her slush cup. “It was the pits. A canary accidentally got away from me
and got sucked into the air system, which was like really awful, but then a boa
constrictor got out, and you wouldn’t believe the trouble after that. Some guys
tried to catch it, but they let out a lot of other animals by accident, I
think, and then the snake almost choked one of them—one of the guys, I mean. I
got fired, but it was okay. I love animals, but I guess I’m not a pet-store
cash-register sort of person. I can sell stuff if I want, that’s easy, but
selling animals kind of like bothers me. I’d rather let them out or take them
home, except they’d shed all over everything.”
“Hmm,”
he said, sucking up the triple-orange slush cup through a straw. “My dog did
that. Leary.”
“He was
okay, but he did shed a lot. All over the couch pillows, I remember.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry
he’s gone.” She squeezed his hand again.
“Yeah, me too.” He squeezed back. Children laughed and
called to each other in the background.
“Are you
planning to stay in Arizona for a while?” The question slipped out from
nowhere.
“I
dunno. There’s nothing to do there. I could work loading trucks or something,
but there’s nothing else to do. Mom and Dad would miss me if I went anywhere
else, though. They don’t have any other visitors.”
His
sense of responsibility touched Quinn, even if they were incarcerated on drug
charges. She’d never felt sorry for prisoners before. “I wonder if they could
transfer your parents to someplace around here, so you could...” She stopped,
grimacing. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right at all.”
“What?”
He looked down at her.
“Forget
it,” she said. “I stuck my foot in my mouth up to my knee. Just forget it.”
“Mmm.” He sipped his drink, then
lowered it, holding it in his fingers by the cap. “I like it around here.”
“Yeah,
but it’s boring. I’ve been here for like three years, and I’ve like done
everything and seen everything. I want something else out of life, but I don’t
know what I want.” She fell silent. Since when have I started telling people
this? she asked herself. It’s what I really
think, yeah, but I’ve never told anyone that. Why now? Because
I want him to hear it.
“More
boring to be where I am,” he said. “I feel like I owe it to Mom and Dad to be
there to—”
“Quinn! Hey, Quinn!”
They
stopped and turned. Stacy Rowe, one of Quinn’s friends from high school, ran up
from behind, her brown pigtails bouncing. Stacy looked from Quinn to Ethan—and
her eyes locked on him for longer than could be hidden.
“Huh-hi!” Stacy said to Ethan when she got to him. “Oh!” She
turned to Quinn, but kept glancing up at Ethan as she talked. “How’ve you been?
I was out shopping for shoes and I didn’t think I’d run into you here like
this! Who’s your friend?”
“Ethan
Yeager,” Quinn said. She could read Stacy’s awe-struck face like ten-foot-high
letters on a billboard. “He’s a friend of the family, up for the weekend.”
“Wow,
great! I’m so glad to meet you! Are you going to be around long? Like next
week?”
“No,” said Ethan before Quinn could answer for him. “I have to head back home soon.”
“Where’s home?” Stacy asked. “Oh!” she gasped a moment
later, looking at Quinn. “Sorry to butt in like this! Hey, I’ll let you go, but
I just wanted to say hi.” She looked up at Ethan. “Hi!” she squeaked. “Maybe
next time you’re in town, we can go out or something, okay?”
It took
a second for Stacy to realize what she’d said. “Oh, no!” she gasped in horror,
glancing at Quinn’s stony face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for you and me
to go out! I meant like a double date or something, okay? Whatever! I gotta
run! Bye, Quinn!” She managed a quick wave, her face burning, then dashed off into the nearest store, which sold baseball
caps, and hid in the back.
Ethan
shook his head as he looked after Stacy, then turned away to continue walking
with Quinn again. “Weird,” he said softly.
“Oh,
well, that’s Stacy all over,” Quinn said, keeping her voice down despite her
annoyance. Distracted, she bumped into Ethan’s side. His arm came up to steady
her, then fell around her waist.
After a
moment, he let go of her. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t—”
Quinn
reached down, got his hand, and put it around her waist again. She then put her
free arm around his waist and pulled him close. Despite the difference in their
height, it was a very comfortable fit, side by side. Quinn thought she could
walk like this forever. Her slush cup was empty, so she dropped it in a garbage
can. They set off down a side corridor in the mall where few people were
around.
“Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
Why
do you have two guns under the front seat of your Hummer? “Are you afraid
of anything?” she asked.
He shook
his slush cup, then dropped it in another garbage can.
“Yeah,” he said softly, looking somewhere else. “Worry about my parents all the
time.”
“I
mean,” said Quinn in a low voice, “afraid of anything that could hurt you.”
The arm around her tensed. He still didn’t look at her.
“Oh,” he said at last. They approached a store that sold fireplace tools and
parts. “Not really,” he said, and stopped before he said more.
She
slowed and looked up at his face. He hesitated, then
looked down into her light blue eyes. He knew now that she’d seen the guns. She
could tell that he knew. Their feet slowed to almost stopping.
Ethan
looked away. “S’go in here,” he said, nodding to the
fireplace store. No one was inside. It had several alcoves that led away from
the center floor, showcasing gas-powered fireplaces.
“Okay.”
She gave him a reassuring hug around the waist, but at the same time her
stomach began to knot with fear. Are you selling drugs, too? she wondered. Are you dealing like your parents did? Do I have any right to question you,
after all you’ve been through? Where did you really get all that money? Why do
you need those guns? Can I trust you? Am I going to regret this, or will I have
enough time for that in the end? She had a million questions now, and she
knew she would rather fall down and die right where she stood than find out the
answers to any of them.
The
fireplace store was effectively uninhabited. One clerk was present, half hidden
behind a counter, a bored older woman who glanced up at them from her computer
monitor. Quinn suspected the lady was playing solitaire. Quinn and Ethan walked
into an alcove behind a decorative potted tree, their backs to the rest of the
store.
“What’s
going on?” Quinn asked quietly. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. Perhaps it
was the air conditioning.
He
stared down into the gas-fed flames of the fireplace. “I shouldn’t have come
here,” he said. “I should’ve just stayed in Arizona.”
“Why?”
“It
would’ve been better. I wish they’d listened to me.” Ethan swallowed, staring.
“I was so mad at them.”
“You
knew what they were doing,” she whispered. It was a fact.
He was
silent for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said at last. “I told them what would
happen. I told them.” He let out his breath. The words tumbled out. “I
found this brick of hash wrapped in plastic in the storage room. I thought one
of the workers had put it there, but I told Dad about it, and he said leave it
alone.” He rubbed his mouth. “We had a bad fight. I told him he was putting us
all in danger, the cops would be up our asses and we’d go to jail, and he said
don’t worry, Mom’s in on it, we know what we’re doing, blah blah
blah, it’s not a freaking problem. Just stay out of the shop, he said, just take the mail-order
shipments to the airport, keep things running. It’ll be okay, he said. I was so
freaking pissed. We were screaming at each other and everything.” He swallowed.
“I wanted to hit him. I didn’t, but I wanted to just knock the crap out of him
for doing that. I should have. I really should have.”
Quinn stared
at the fire, listening.
“I got
crazy,” he went on. “I just gave up. I said I was taking all the money out of
my college fund, ‘cause I’d turned nineteen and it was mine, and I was just
going to leave and blow it unless they stopped, got rid of everything and got
back to doing normal stuff. I really thought they’d listen to me, but no. They
said I could do whatever I wanted with the money, they’d have lots more money
soon, it was okay. It’s just pot,
it’s not like hard drugs or anything. They didn’t care.” He paused and looked
Quinn in the face. “Your sister was right. She didn’t say it, that buying the
Hummer was stupid, but it was, it really was. The VW
was about busted, but I could’ve gotten something cheaper, a pickup or
something. I was crazy. I didn’t care anymore, about college or anything.
Everything was over. I wanted them to wake up, get themselves together and get
cleaned up, but they didn’t. They didn’t listen to me. And then we got raided.”
“What
happened?”
“I think
one of the local workers saw the hash and told the police. They came in at two
a.m., busted into everything and took us down to the jail, but the next day
they let me go. Mom and Dad said I wasn’t in on it, our lawyer made them let me
out, but I had to stay around in the county until the trial. Cops had impounded
the Hummer, but they let it go, too. They took everything else except me and
Leary and a few other things. Everything. I got some
stuff out of the house thanks to the lawyer, but that was it.”
“I can’t
believe that.”
“Just
like that, I had nothing, no family, nothing. I’ve been living in the Hummer or
hanging with friends for months. I feel like a freaking refugee, I swear. I had
to check in with the cops every week, but seeing Dad and Mom, walking around
with chains on their feet... that was just too much.
That was just... God.”
She
moved closer to him, their arms almost touching. “Did you have to go to court,
too?”
Ethan
looked increasingly agitated. “Yeah. Told the cops I
wasn’t going to testify against my parents, even if they threw me in prison,
but... but then they cut a deal with me. I gave evidence against the supplier.
I saw him around now and then, thought he was an industrial hemp dealer.” Ethan
exhaled. “I sent him up for forty-five years. I wish I’d killed him, I wish I’d
shot him right—”
“Shhh. No.” Quinn put a hand on his arm.
“I
really do. I should have stayed in Arizona. Dad wanted me to come out here and
bring their stuff to your folks, so maybe there’d be something left for him and
Mom to have when they got out.” He gave a half-laugh that died on his lips.
“They want me to get out, too. They tell me I should leave, get out of the
state and don’t ever come back. They don’t think it’s—they just want me to go,
get a new start somewhere else. Like I really could. I
don’t care anymore, I’m not going to—I can’t leave them there, like—”
Ethan
covered his eyes with a shaking hand and struggled against tears.
“Shhh.” Quinn’s arms were around him. She pulled him close
and laid her head against his chest below his chin. She heard his heart
pounding through his thin shirt. “Shhh.”
When he
wiped his reddened eyes, she looked up. Her right hand came up and curled
behind his head and pulled his mouth down to hers. He tasted faintly of orange.
A song played in the corridor outside in the mall. A woman sang, sadly and
slow. Quinn could not make out the words through the noise in her head. Their
lips parted, then his arms clutched her to him and
lifted her as his mouth met hers again and they became one. It was like the
first kiss ever.
They
left the mall and drove aimlessly around Lawndale for an hour. He drove with
one hand, his other hand holding hers. They talked nonstop. Everything came
out. Even little things had an urgency to be heard.
He told
her stories about her parents in their college days, stories his parents had
told him that she hadn’t heard before, about her mom’s foray into body
painting, her dad’s stoned attempt to build a UFO landing strip so he could
teach aliens to sing Bob Dylan songs, the camping trip on which they became
nudists and were almost bitten to death by mosquitoes. He told her about his
own parents, their nonsensical philosophies and rants about politics and
spirituality, and how it all came to nothing in the end. It was funny and terrible
and they laughed and were frightened. Quinn now understood how much Ethan had
lost and how little he had, though to her it seemed he had inside him
everything anyone could hope for. He had everything, that is, but someone to
guide him, and that someone she knew was her. She held on to him as he drove,
she the life raft, he the drowning man.
They
took in a movie at the Multimovieplex, a romantic comedy they both liked.
Afterward, Ethan wanted to show her how the Hummer handled off-road, so she
directed him to the abandoned gravel quarry south of town. The bouncing around
was fun. They laughed. Quinn’s red hair flew, and he let Quinn drive the Hummer
until it looked like the trailer was in danger of getting banged up. And then,
because no other teenagers ever came to the abandoned quarry on dates during
the daytime, only at night, they parked alone in the bright yellow Hummer under
the sun on a quiet Saturday and nearly found themselves in the back seat after
an endless period of heated making out with R.E.M. playing in the background.
“Wait,”
Quinn gasped, somewhere beyond second base. “I’m seventeen. We can’t—we’d
better not—”
“I know,
I know, I know,” Ethan said, trying to catch his breath. “I know. Okay.”
“I think
we should drive somewhere else. Soon.”
“All right.”
“Just not right now. Oh—”
Minutes
later, they rearranged their clothing and escaped the quarry and real trouble,
but only barely. At the stop sign on the way out, he took her hand and kissed
her palm with his eyes closed. She unbuckled her safety harness and leaned over
him for a longer kiss, locked together in their arms. She knew the guns were
right under his seat. It didn’t matter now.
“I love
you,” he whispered into her neck. “I swear I love you.”
“I love
you, too,” she whispered back. They were at the stop sign for ten minutes.
Afterward,
they drove for another hour with the windows down and the summer wind blowing
in, talking less, looking at the world, singing to the CD player and
remembering nothing but each other.
“I can’t
make out all the stuff he’s saying on that song, when he sings it so fast.”
“On ‘End of the World’?”
Quinn
read the title from the CD box. ‘It’s the End of the World as We Know It, And I
Feel Fine.’”
“Leary
chewed up the lyrics book. Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to me, either. Good
beat, though.”
“You
like to dance?”
“Yeah,
used to. Haven’t danced in a long time.”
“Let’s
go out tonight, if you want. I know a good place to go.”
“Yeah,
that’d be great. Oh. Uh, what time is it?”
Quinn
checked her watch, the first time she’d looked all day. “Oh, crap, we’re a
little late. It’s four-fifteen. That’s not too bad.”
“You’re
kidding. It’s after four?”
“Yeah. Where’d the time go?”
“You
have to get back?”
“Yeah,
better check in. Mom wants to take you out for dinner. Maybe we could go, just
ourselves. We’d better check in, though.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
They got
home just before four-thirty. A subdued Daria met them at the door. “Mom needs
to see you,” she said in a monotone to Ethan. “She’s in the kitchen.”
“Oh,
stop it,” said Quinn. “We weren’t that late. There’s lots of time to go
out and eat somewhere.”
“That’s
not the problem,” said Daria. She looked up at Ethan. “You’d better see her
now.”
“Did my
mom call?” Ethan asked.
“We’ll
both go.” Quinn walked around her sister, heading through the family room for
the kitchen. “We’re home!” she called. “Sorry we’re late! Can Ethan and I go
out for dinner by ourselves?”
Helen
sat at the table in the kitchen nook, by the sliding glass door. Several pads
of yellow legal paper were on the table before her, with the portable phone and
an address book. “Quinn,” she said in a strained voice, “I need to see Ethan
alone for a while.”
“Muuh-ooom, no! It’s not
his fault we’re late! We had a lot of traffic and—”
“Quinn,
stop it!” her mother shouted. “This isn’t about that!”
“Then
what is it, Mom?”
“Is
something wrong?” Ethan asked, coming up behind Quinn.
“Your
mother called,” said Helen. She hesitated, making herself calm down. “You and I
need to talk.”
Quinn
turned to Ethan. “Can I stay? I want to hear this, too.”
“Quinn!”
“Well,
Daria’s already heard it! I know she has!”
“Quinn,”
said Ethan. “Quinn, wait.” He put a hand on her shoulder, then
turned to Helen. “Mrs. Morgendorffer, can she stay? It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Helen
looked from Ethan to Quinn, looked at Quinn’s hand as it rose and covered
Ethan’s. She looked away, then down at her notepads. “Whatever,” she said
tiredly, “but when we’re done, Quinn, I want to see you,
and just you alone.”
Tightlipped,
Quinn said nothing. Ethan pulled a chair out for her, and all three of them
sat.
Helen
eyed them both, then put her arms on the table and her
hands together, fingers interlaced. “Ethan,” she said, her voice softening as
she spoke, “Ethan, I’m sorry, but I have bad news. It’s about your father.”
Quinn
felt a cold finger run down her spine. She reached for Ethan’s arm, but whether
to comfort him or steady herself, she didn’t know.
“What?”
asked Ethan in a hollow voice. “My
dad? Is he okay?”
“Ethan,”
said Helen, “your father was attacked by other inmates this morning, in the
prison cafeteria in Yuma. He was badly hurt, but I don’t know the details yet.
He’s in the prison infirmary under guard. I spoke with your mother and your
parents’ attorney, who’s—”
“What
happened to him? Do you know what happened?”
Helen’s
face became a tight mask. “He was stabbed,” she said, not sounding like
herself. “He will be in intensive care for some time. Your parents’ lawyer
should be there with him by now. I’m going to get a call back later this
evening from him for an update. I don’t know anything more about his condition,
but I’ll tell you as soon as I know. Your mother is safe in Phoenix. She’s been
separated from the other prisoners there for her own protection.”
Quinn
felt a sudden detachment, the sense that she and everything around her were
unreal. No way this was really happening.
Ethan
got up from his chair, his face alive with fear. “I need to go back there
tonight and—”
“No, you
can’t go back!” Helen reached for him across the table. “Sit down and listen!
You can’t go back. You’re to stay here in this area for a while. You can’t go
back there right now.”
“What?”
He opened his hands to her. “That’s nuts! Why can’t I go see him?”
“Ethan!”
Helen’s voice hardened. “Your mother left orders with her attorney and the
prison system in Arizona that you are not to see either her or your father for
the time being.” She held up a hand to stop his protests. “Listen to me! Just
listen! Your mother wants you out of the state! It’s not safe for you there.”
She turned to Quinn. “Please go. I have to talk with Ethan alone for a while.”
“No,”
Quinn said flatly. “I’m not leaving.”
“Quinn,”
Helen said through gritted teeth, “damn it, get—”
“Mrs.
Morgendorffer!” Ethan interrupted. “Please, tell me what’s going on! It’s okay
that Quinn’s here, it’s okay! Please, just tell me
what’s up!”
“Ethan,
this is about your court testimony, and I don’t want anyone—”
“I
already know!” Quinn shouted. “I know he turned in the dealer or whatever! I
know about it, so let me hear it!”
“Quinn!”
Helen was on her feet. “For God’s sake, shut your idiot mouth!”
“The hell
I will!” Quinn screamed back.
“Wait,
wait, wait!” Ethan got up, too, hands out to hold off
Helen and Quinn at once. “Don’t fight about it! It isn’t worth it! Don’t fight,
please! It’s okay! It really is!”
“It’s not
okay!” Helen’s shout rose to the ceiling, her face bright red. “It’s not
okay, Ethan, because that supplier was the brother of the cartel lord, and you
know it! You knew it when you testified against him! The cartel’s probably
looking for you this very second, Ethan! That’s probably why your father was
attacked this morning! Your attorney thinks the perpetrators were gang members
from the cartel who were trying to find out who gave evidence on the dealer!
Your lawyer thinks your dad might have talked when he was attacked! You can’t
go back there because they’ll kill you!”
Ethan
stood his ground, though all the color drained from his face. Quinn stepped
back, shaken and feeling faint. This was not at all what she had expected would
happen. She had found the one, the one man she wanted, but everything was going
to hell like a train on fire. It’s a bad dream, a really bad dream, she
said to herself. Wake up right now, right now. Damn you, now! Wake up!
Helen
pointed at a wall, in the direction of the front yard of the house. “You’re
going to get rid of that car, Ethan, first thing tomorrow, if we can find a
dealership that’s open on Sunday that’s not in this county. If not, we’ll get
rid of it first thing Monday, or we’ll junk it and have it crushed. A yellow
Hummer stands out like a lighthouse in a backyard swimming pool. They probably
already know the make and model and color and even your license plates, and
they’re probably looking for it now all over the frigging Southwest!”
“I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t—”
“Your
mother cares!” Helen snapped, the velvet gone. “You don’t care, but your poor
mother sure as hell does! Willow doesn’t want to see you right now, and she’s
fixed it so you can’t see her, even if you go back. She wants you out of there,
away from that place. You have to stay away until this whole mess is over. You
can talk to her about it tomorrow by phone, but you are to stay here and not
leave! Do you understand me?”
After a
steady silence, he nodded once.
Quinn
had seen the film Traffic and discovered it was not a good date movie.
Still, she had to ask what she suspected she already knew. “Who’s looking for
him?” she whispered.
Helen
glared at her daughter. “The goddamn cartel! I just
told you that!”
“The
drug lords,” said Ethan heavily. He looked down at the tabletop. “Colombians, some Mexicans and Americans, some other guys.
Splinter group that broke off from a bigger gang after the Federales
busted the big one. The little group got away to Arizona. Got some links here
and there all over. What the cops told our lawyer.”
Drug lords. Quinn blanched. She finally understood why Ethan
had those guns, but they were so small and inadequate for what they had to do.
Helen
looked straight at Ethan. “That was very brave what you did, testifying against
him. I hope you knew what it meant. I don’t know that I could have done it.
Didn’t your attorney talk to you about the consequences? Didn’t he say anything
about what might happen down the road?”
Ethan’s
jaw tightened. “He told me. I didn’t care, and I still don’t. I knew they’d be
pissed about it, but he was the son of a bitch who got my parents in trouble,
and I wanted to get him back. I should have killed him.”
“You
should have run a lot sooner.” Helen waved away Ethan’s protests. “I know, your
parents, I know! You can’t help them now, except to stay alive! That’s the only
thing that will give them any hope or comfort, knowing you’re safe and well!
Nothing else! You can’t do anything else for them!” She reached for him across
the table again and caught his arm, squeezing it. “Do you hear me? You can’t go
back!”
Quinn
sniffed. She hadn’t realized she was crying. She dug the heels of her palms
into her eyes and wiped them dry, but she stood by Ethan’s side. It was her
place from now on.
“He’ll
stay,” she said, her voice breaking. She looked up at Ethan. “You’ll stay,” she
said, but it was half a question. She knew she couldn’t control him if he was
truly afraid for his parents.
Ethan
stared back at Helen. “Yeah,” he said dully. “Yeah.”
Helen
let go of Ethan’s arm. “Good. Your mother will call tomorrow at noon, if she
can get permission. I think the lawyer will swing it. He seems to have his head
screwed on right. You have to be here for the call. Don’t miss it.” Her tone
dropped to one of exhaustion. “I’m sorry, but we shouldn’t go out for dinner
tonight. There’s just too much going on. I wish I’d given you a cell phone so I
could have called you earlier today. I’ll need to get the number of the phone
in your car, Ethan, if you don’t mind.”
He
nodded to her once, a barely perceptible movement.
“Where’s
Daddy?” said Quinn, sniffing again.
“He’s
talking to the neighborhood security company. We cooked up a story about a
peeping tom, so with any luck, they’ll drive by the house more often. If that
doesn’t work, we’ll have to tell it to the Lawndale police.” She raised a
finger and pointed from Ethan to Quinn. “Neither one of you should be outside
after dark. Got it? Okay. We’ll work out more details later, once we know
something. Now, Ethan, if you’ll excuse us, I need to talk to my daughter.
Alone.”
Ethan
turned to go. Quinn caught him, wrapped her arms around his chest, and put her
face against his heart. She did not want to cry, but some of it slipped out.
His arms covered her like great shields, and he murmured into her ears not to
worry, it would be okay. It helped to hear it. When she let him go, he walked
out of the room and off to the guest room, where he shut the door.
Helen walked
around the table and sat down next to where Quinn stood. “Sit,” she said.
“Let’s talk.”
“What about?” Quinn slowly sat down, though she did not want
to do it.
“You
know what about.” Her mother leaned close, elbows on her knees, hands clasped
before her. “I know how you think,” she said, looking Quinn in the eye. “I know
what’s been going on, and it has to stop. You cannot get it into your head
right now that Ethan’s your hot date for the weekend, so keep your hands to—”
“Muuuh-ooom! That is such complete bullsh—”
Helen
got out of her chair and grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and shook her.
“You will listen to me!” Quinn tried to slap her mother, but Helen
grabbed her by the wrist at the last second and forced Quinn down again. “Listen
to me! Stop it! Don’t you dare start this take-me-to-Chez-Pierre
nonsense with him! He can’t afford to be dragged around the way you do every
boy in school! He’s got real problems, terrible problems, and if he doesn’t
keep his head together and focus on what’s right, someone’s going to blow his
head off! Do you hear me?”
Quinn
struggled to get up. “Let go of me!”
“Do you hear
me? You’ll get him killed! Is that what you want? Do you want that
on your conscience? Do you understand what’s going on? Do you?”
With a
sudden effort, Quinn threw off her mother’s grip and fell from her chair.
Scrambling up from the floor, she fled the kitchen into the family room—past
Daria, who sat on the sofa pretending to be engrossed in a poetry book—then ran
up the stairs to her bedroom. Once there, she locked herself in with the
deadbolt. She heard her mother shouting at her from the foot of the staircase,
but she ran to her bed and threw herself on it, covering her head with pillows
to block out all sound. She thought she heard her mother pounding on her door,
but the noise went away in time, and soon it was quiet again, except for her
weeping.
* * *
Dinner
that evening was a subdued affair. No one complained about the microwaved
lasagna. Quinn did not say a word, though she sat next to Ethan as she had
earlier and passed all the food she could to him.
Halfway
through the silent meal, there was a knock at the door. Daria got up to answer
it and came back moments later followed by Trent Lane, the grungy older brother
of her best friend, Jane. “Yo,” said Trent, waving at the diners. “Smells good. Is that some kind of macaroni?”
“Trent,
my man!” called Jake with relief. “Why don’t you pull up a chair and—”
“No,”
said Helen with finality. “Trent, I’m sorry, but we have company over. Can we
call you back later?”
“Oh, no problem. I had a Pop-Tart and some red stuff from
the refrigerator already. I came over to see if I could borrow Daria.”
Daria
had just seated herself to begin eating again. She looked up, startled, but
gave Trent a smirk. “I might be inexpensive, but I don’t give it away for free,
Trent.”
“Give
what away?” asked Jake, looking worried. “What are we talking about?”
“Joke,
Dad,” said Daria.
“What do
you need her for?” asked Helen in a resigned tone.
“Oh. My
band’s getting ready for a road trip. Janey’s helping us get packed, but some
of the guys and I are having this, um, sort of long talk about the band’s name,
and things kind of aren’t getting done.”
“Last
time I asked you about it,” said Daria, “you wanted to change the name from
Mystik Spiral to something-something-explosion.”
“Yeah. That could be cool. Anyway, I thought she and Janey
could sort of help us out, if she’s free. Well, not busy, I mean, not free. Not not free. Whatever.”
Helen
and Jake exchanged looks, and both shrugged. “It’s up to Daria,” said Helen.
She looked at her oldest daughter. “You can stay over if you want. Just call
back tomorrow morning and be back here by early afternoon at latest, okay? Take
a toothbrush. And remember it’s going to rain tonight.”
“I’ll
try to stay indoors after dark,” said Daria in a deadpan. “Be with you in a
minute, Trent.”
“No
problem,” said Trent. “I’ll be outside.” He waved at the gathered family and
Ethan. “Oh,” he added before he walked from the kitchen, “cool Hummer. Wish the
band had one of those instead of the Tank. I bet the floor isn’t rusted through
yet.”
“Not
yet,” said Ethan with a smile.
Daria
left when the meal was done. The sky was already cloudy and turning dark. As
Ethan and Quinn played a videogame on the TV in the guest bedroom—the door kept
wide open by Helen—the phone rang. Jake answered it, but he turned it over to
Helen moments later. She took the cordless phone upstairs to her bedroom with
her and was gone a long time. Jake became caught up in a baseball game on the
family room giant-screen TV, so unlike the alert Helen he was unable to hear
anything that went on in the guest room.
“I love
you,” Quinn whispered to Ethan. They sat side by side on the guest bed, each
with a set of controls for the car racing game on the TV.
“I love
you, too,” Ethan whispered back. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go back to
Arizona. I’ve got to see my dad. I have to.”
“You
can’t go,” Quinn whispered. She was losing control of her racecar. It spun out
and crashed moments later.
“I have
to. What if he dies and I’m not there? I’d never forgive myself. I feel like
I’d just die, too.”
“Shhh.
Don’t say that, don’t ever say that.”
He was silent. His racecar plowed
into a wall and blew up. The game started another racecar for him, but he
lowered the controls and ignored it.
“Ethan,”
whispered Quinn, “please stay.”
He did
not answer. She knew he was going.
“Swear
to me you’ll do one thing, okay?” she whispered.
“What?”
“If you
go, I want to see you first, in person. Don’t leave a note. Don’t do that to
me. I’d never forgive you.”
He
swallowed. “Okay.”
“Swear
it.”
“I swear
it. I swear on everything that is holy.”
“Swear
by us, by all we have.”
“I swear
it. I’ll wait for you.”
“Okay.” A pause. “What time would you leave?”
He
thought. “About two or three in the morning, before everyone
gets up. I want to at least get out of the state. The police here don’t
have any reason to pull me over, but I want to be far away by the time everyone
else is awake.”
“I’ll
come downstairs at three, then.”
“Okay.”
“Ethan.”
She put down her controls and reached up for his face. She stopped him before
they kissed. “Swear to me again that you won’t leave without seeing me.”
He did not blink. “I swear it.”
Her
mouth met his.
“Go, go,
go!” Jake cried from the family room. “You bastard, yes! Home run!”
They got no further than first base
in the guest bedroom, but it was enough. They knew Quinn’s mother would be back
at any time. And she was.
“Your
father lost a lot of blood,” she told Ethan later. “He was in surgery for three
hours because of damage to his heart and left lung. His prognosis is only fair,
but if he makes it through the next two days, he should recover. He can’t talk
yet.”
“I can’t
go see him?”
“No, not for a long time. He and your mother both signed
papers to keep you from visiting them. You have to stay out of that part of the
U.S. for your own good, and for theirs, too.”
“This is
so unfair. I can’t believe they’d do that.”
“They
did, but only to save you. You can talk to your mother about it tomorrow when
she calls, but if I were you, I wouldn’t give her a hard time. It’s for your
own good.”
Ethan
stalked off to the guest room to brood. Everyone went to bed by eleven o’clock,
exhausted from the day.
Outside,
it had already begun to drizzle.
By three
a.m. it was a steady downpour, and rain hammered endlessly against the windows
and roof. It did not awaken anyone who was not already awake.
* * *
At one
minute after three in the morning, Quinn opened the door to her bedroom. Though
it was pitch black in the hall, she knew precisely how far the stairway was
from the door to her room. She wore jeans, a pink tee, a jeans jacket, and high
boots, with a small travel suitcase in one hand stuffed with underwear, socks,
two changes of clothing, and all the money she could scrape together, just over
two hundred dollars.
From
long experience at sneaking out of the house on dates, Quinn knew where to walk
to keep the stair steps from creaking and awakening her parents, who slept in
the bedroom opposite hers. She made it to the bottom to find Ethan already
there with his own suitcase. They wrapped themselves in each other’s arms and
kissed, alone in the night.
“Let’s
go,” Quinn whispered. It was an order, and Ethan did not argue. The house did
not have an alarm system, so all they had to do was open the front door, walk
outside in the driving rain, and carefully pull the door shut behind them. They
then splashed across the lawn to the Hummer, where Ethan unlocked the doors and
lifted Quinn inside. Shaking water from her long hair, she threw her bag in the
back and buckled in as Ethan got in the driver’s side.
“Headlights,”
Ethan said, looking in the rear view mirror. They ducked their heads and waited
until the neighborhood security car had passed before their next move.
“I hate
this part,” he said, then grimaced and started the Hummer. He pulled away as
quickly as he could. They were out of the subdivision in five minutes, through
Lawndale in ten minutes more, then on the Interstate and on their way west.
The
heavy rain made the going relatively slow, though traffic was light. It was
impossible even with high beams to get over fifty miles an hour in the
downpour, visibility was so poor.
“Could
be worse,” said Ethan, hunched over the steering wheel and trying to see the
road ahead.
“How?”
“Could be raining.”
Quinn
laughed in relief. “I love you,” she said.
“I love
you, too.” He exhaled and shook his head. “We must be crazy as hell. I wish
you’d just stayed home, but—”
“I
would’ve if you had.”
“Yeah. I know. I guess we can’t worry about it now.” He
glanced at her and reached for her with one hand. “You’re beautiful. I mean, on
the inside. You’re beautiful inside, where it counts.”
Many
people had told Quinn she was beautiful. No one had said she was beautiful
below the skin. She felt herself glow.
“Both
hands on the wheel,” she said, kissing his hand before she released it. She
kept a hand on his arm as he drove, and she wondered where they would live, how
they would make ends meet, and how it would feel when they finally had sex,
which she was sure would be very soon. She was ready.
They did
not sing to the CD player as they had the day before, being lost in their
thoughts and nervous in the rain. An hour out from Lawndale, as “Driver Eight”
was playing, they pulled into a rest area. Ethan parked the Hummer and trailer
in a space for a tractor-trailer. Blinding rain hammered down around them.
“I gotta
get caffeine,” Ethan mumbled, shutting off the engine and headlights. He rubbed
his eyes and yawned. “Gettin’ too
tired.”
“I’ll
drive, if you want,” said Quinn, “but I’d better get a soda, too.”
“Don’t
drink too much, or we’ll pee our way across America.”
“Eww!” She hit him on the arm. “You’re disgusting. I can’t
believe I love you.”
“Yeah,
but you do. You know you do.” She tried to hit him again, but he grinned and
fended her off. He then undid his seat belt and popped open his door a
fraction, letting rain spill in as he studied the night. Another vehicle passed
behind them and pulled into a space not far away. “We’re gonna get soaked,” he
said absently. “Shoulda brought an
umbrella. Never thought of it. Stupid me. Hey, you know what?”
“What?”
“You’re
cute, too. In a shallow, superficial kind of way, you know.”
“You’re
going to regret that,” she said, laughing. “You’re so going to regret
that.”
“Ain’t
that the truth. Hey, wait to get out until I come
around to your side of the car, okay?”
“I’m not
going anywhere without you,” she said with a smile.
“Sure,”
he said. “Get ready.” He opened the door wide and jumped down, then slammed the
door shut.
Something
banged against the driver’s side of the car, followed almost instantly by a
queer, flat echo like a mechanical cough. Quinn heard Ethan (it must have been
Ethan, though she could not see him) make a sound like oof and fall
heavily against the door he’d just slammed.
“Are you
okay?” she called, thinking he’d slipped. “Ethan?”
Another
loud metallic bang rang against the side of the car, again with the coughing
echo. A thick redness splattered over the driver’s door window. A moment later,
a heavy object scraped across the outside of the door and fell away from the
vehicle. In the faint illumination of a streetlight, Quinn saw the wide splash
of crimson run down the glass under the beating of a thousand raindrops.
Scattered over the window, mixed with the red, were bits of red-tainted solid
matter.
“Ethan?”
she called, her voice rising. “Ethan? Ethan!”
Only the
thundering rain answered.
A wail
broke from her throat. She knew. She leaned across the center divider and
fumbled blindly under Ethan’s seat. Her fingers found the butt of one of the
black pistols, and she pulled it out after a moment of intense struggle.
Keening and sobbing, she opened the passenger door and slid down out of the
Hummer, scraping her side as she dropped. She barely noticed the pain. The warm
rain came down in a smothering sheet from a black sky, her surroundings lit
only by distant streetlights. Terrified, she crouched and pressed her back
against the side of the Hummer, holding the heavy gun against her chest with
both hands. She sobbed aloud with both eyes shut. It would soon be over. In her
terror, she knew it for a fact.
It took
a minute for her to finally creep around the front of the vehicle. It wasn’t an
issue of courage; she was too frightened to have any. It just didn’t matter
anymore where she went, how fast she got there, or what she did. She crossed in
front of the Hummer, gun quivering in her two-handed grip, and squinted through
the rain. No one else was visible anywhere in the night—except on the ground by
the driver’s door.
She
called his name and crept over to him. There was more illumination on this side
of the Hummer, even in the downpour. She could tell that the body was Ethan’s.
He lay without moving in a huge flowing stream, his face turned away from her.
His chest was stained dark, though his shirt had been ivory in color a minute
before. She knelt in the running water, knees pressed into the rough pavement,
then put down the gun and reached over to lift and cradle his head.
Her
fingers went through his wet brown locks and inside the back of his head, where
part of his skull was missing. One of his eyes was a dark hole that leaked red
over his face and over her hands and down into the stream that swirled off into
the darkness.
Everything
inside her died. She began to cry, really cry, her body shaking from head to
feet. There was no point in doing anything else. She bent over him and wept.
And waited.
Slow
footsteps came, ages later, splashing through puddles until they stopped behind
her. She bowed her head, her cheek touching Ethan’s, and closed her eyes. She
was cold now, cold from her fear, cold all the way down to her bones.
Something
hard and blunt pressed down gently into her back, to the left of her spinal
cord against one of her shoulder blades. She shook violently and began to pray.
Our Father, who art in—
A
tremendous blow struck her back and burst through her chest, knocking her flat
against her beloved. The world rapidly dimmed. Even the pain faded into
darkness.
My
heart! She held Ethan to her as she faded. He was still warm, though she
was not. My heart—
* * *
Soaked
to the skin, Trent Lane stuck the silenced pistol into a tattered gym bag,
zipped it shut, and jammed it under his seat. To his left, Jesse Moreno did the
same. Running a hand through his dark wet hair, Trent twisted the ignition key
to the black van that his band called the Tank. The engine sputtered and revved
to life.
“Good
thing it still starts,” Trent said. As if the engine heard him, it coughed and
almost died. Careful application of the gas kept the pistons moving, however,
and Trent was able to put the vehicle into reverse and pull out of the parking
space near the bright yellow Hummer. Seconds later, they were on their way out
of the rest area, windshield wipers vainly trying to shove aside the
floodwaters of the heavens.
“That
was quick,” said Jesse, Trent’s best friend. They’d graduated high school
together, barely, and had played guitars and done drugs together for years
before. Selling drugs on the side brought them cash when their band’s gigs did
not, which was often the case lately. The money went right back into buying
more drugs. Trent liked smack. It kept him in bed a lot, sleeping it off, but
it was worth it.
“Yeah,”
said Trent. He sighed. “Too bad about the Hummer.”
“Yeah. It was cool.”
“We
gotta get one, one of these days.”
“Yeah.”
“Good
thing it was yellow. Thought I was gonna lose it about a million times on the
way out.”
“Yeah.”
Trent
sighed again. He was glad the job was over. It was his first hit, his and
Jesse’s. Went off without a hitch. It was a relief.
They drove for an hour in the black rain.
“Hated
doing it to the girl,” Trent said at last.
“Huh?”
Jesse turned toward him.
“Hated doing the girl.”
“Oh.”
“Just a kid. I sorta knew her.”
Jesse
shrugged and looked out the side window again. He was the perfect best friend,
always agreeable and sympathetic. He liked pot best. He smoked a ton of it.
“Yeah,”
said Trent. He looked in the rear view mirror but could see nothing behind him.
“How’re the guys doing?”
Jesse
turned in his seat and looked back. Nick and Max, the band’s bass guitarist and
drummer, were sprawled over their equipment in the back of the van, sleeping
off the effects of the drugs Trent had put into their beer before they left on
their tour. They’d wake up later that day, none the worse for wear, and never
know about the extra job Trent and Jesse had taken on.
“They’re
cool,” said Jesse, looking back out the front windshield.
“Cool,”
said Trent. “Can you get me a smoke?”
“Sure.”
Jesse pulled a small plastic bag of joints from the glove compartment with the
broken lock, lit one, and passed it to his friend.
“Thanks.”
Trent took a long hit on it, blew the smoke out in a stream. “Long way to
Tucson,” he said.
“Hmmm,”
said Jesse.
“Two
days, I think. If the Tank holds up.”
“Hmmm.”
“Bet we
get something good for the job,” Trent said. “Juan said it counted,
this one. Said he’d do something nice for us. We were lucky, you know. He came
right to us. Almost can’t believe it.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.” Trent thought a long time. “Something something explosion,” he finally said. “Damn.”
“Hey,”
said Jesse, turning to Trent. “How about, Biorhythm Blues
Explosion?”
“Huh?”
“You
know, like, we sometimes sort of do blues rock, you know? Biorhythm Blues
Explosion, instead of Mystik Spiral.”
Trent
thought, but his thoughts drifted as he watched the Interstate roll by in the
Tank’s half-working headlights. He thought of Quinn Morgendorffer kneeling over
the body of the bigmouth, probably her boyfriend or something, how she didn’t
even try to run. He wondered what his sister’s friend Daria would think if she
knew. It probably wouldn’t go over well. Daria and Jane were sleeping now at
the Lanes’ home, as drugged out as Nick and Max. Rohypnol worked wonders when
mixed with alcohol. Thanks to the drugs, Daria had talked freely and confirmed
what
Soon,
though, they’d wake up and wonder what the hell had happened. Daria would then
get the news about her sister and the bigmouth, and things would turn sour. It
would be almost impossible to keep this hit from being tagged to him and the
band.
However,
they might get away with it. It was, after all, their first and only
hit. The money had been too good to miss, a huge sum, and the boss and everyone
else would love them for it. Trent and Jesse would be somebody at last.
Trent shook his head. The hit had some bad with the good. Maybe this time Spiral should go away on tour and stay gone. Maybe they should head south of the border for a while, for even further, until things cooled off—if they ever did. Nick and Max could be ditched somewhere. Trent and Jesse were the real team, the real heart of Spiral.
Maybe it was a good idea to keep moving until they hit the Mexican border. Things could move fast sometimes where the police were involved. If they cut through Texas and didn’t stop much, they could be here in a day. It would work.
“Hey,”
said Jesse.
“What?”
“You
know. Biorhythm Blues Explosion.”
“Oh.”
Original: 03/11/04, modified 10/28/04, 09/04/06, 03/15/09, 05/13/10
FINIS