“You got a tattoo? You?”
“Check it out,” Jason lifted his sleeve, wincing at the ache.
“That’s wicked cool. Damn. I can’t believe you of all people got a tat.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ryan shrugged. “No offense, but you just never seemed like the type, that’s all. So what really happened with you and Shelley?”
“The short version? She was seeing someone else.”
Ryan’s eyes grew wide. “The ice queen had an affair?”
“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal, things were bad long before that.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Anyone could see that. You look a hell of a lot happier, that’s for sure.”
“It’s hard not to. We should’ve split up a long time ago.”
“You lucky son of a bitch.” Ryan took a long drag from his cigarette. “I wish I could say the same thing. I fucking hate being married some days, and today is one of those days.” He dropped his voice low. “Eve is pregnant. We found out this week. We haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, so whatever you do, don’t say anything.”
“No, I wo—”
“There you are.” Their mom stepped out on the porch and gave Jason a hug, holding onto him a little longer than usual. A flare of pain raced up his arm, from elbow to shoulder. “Put that out and both of you come inside,” she said to Ryan. “I thought you were going to quit.”
“Mom, please.”
Voices drifted out through the open sliding door, and her face brightened. “Your brother and the girls. Well, are you two going to stand out here all day or are you going to come in and be sociable?”
Jason followed her in; Ryan followed suit a few minutes later. By that time, Jason had already said happy birthday to Chris and hello to his wife. Chris and Lisa both wore bright smiles, a strong contrast to the strained one on Ryan’s face. He bent down to say hello to his nieces, both toddling over on chubby legs, and Mia tugged on his ear. A heartbeat later, Allison grabbed his nose.
Mia, the elder by three minutes, grabbed his left arm, then pulled her hand away with a frown, her face twisting into the expression his dad called the monkey look—eyebrows drawn close together, chin lowered, mouth turned down—and everyone laughed. The old family photo albums contained many pictures of all three boys with the same look when they were kids.
Allison reached forward and touched his arm, too, and soon enough, her face matched Mia’s. She didn’t pull her hand away, though. She pushed up the sleeve of his shirt and stared at the tattoo, then poked it with one finger. She looked Jason in the eye and shook her head. “Bad,” she said.
Chris and Lisa both laughed.
“Yes, you keep thinking that way, baby girl,” Chris said. “No ink for you.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Your kids have no taste, that’s all I can say.”
When Mia reached over and pulled Allison’s hand away, Allison tipped her face up to Jason, her lower lip trembling and tears shining in the corners of her eyes.
Great. My nieces are scared of my tattoo. Nice job, Frank.
“Bad birdie,” Mia said.
“Bad birdie,” Allison echoed.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks it was a silly idea,” Jason’s mother said, and everyone laughed except Jason and the twins.
2
Jason arrived at Mitch’s house a little after six, and she asked him what was wrong as soon as she closed the front door.
“Nothing, why?”
She touched his cheek. “I don’t know, you just look like something’s bothering you.”
He put his arms around her, held her close and kissed away her frown. When they parted, the question remained in her eyes. “It’s not a big thing, and it’s probably going to sound really stupid…” He rubbed the skin under his jaw.
“I don’t think it’d bother you so much if it was something stupid, but if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, too.”
“No, I just, I don’t know, it was weird. My nieces saw my tattoo and after that, they avoided me all afternoon, then they refused to give me a hug goodbye when I left. My mom thought it was cute, but they were acting like they were afraid of me because I have a tattoo. See? I told you it was stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. How old are they?”
“My nieces? Two and a half.”
“So they’re babies.”
“Yeah.”
She touched his cheek again. “And does anyone else in your family have a tattoo?”
“My brother, Ryan, does.”
“Have they seen it?”
“No, I don’t think so. It’s on his back.”
“Well, then, there you go. Kids are funny sometimes, that’s all it is.” She kissed his forehead. “You shouldn’t take it so personally. Now, close your eyes,” she said, taking his hand to lead him through the living room into the kitchen. “Keep them closed, and no peeking.”
She’d turned the lighting in the kitchen low; he could tell even with his eyes closed. Her feet made soft, slippery sounds on the floor, and the scent of spices and roasting meat wafted through the room. Then he heard the clink of glass, the scraping of something, maybe a spoon, against the side of a pot, the quick snick of a zipper. Opening or closing? He resisted the urge to peek, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table instead.
“Okay, open your eyes.”
The candlelight turned her eyes dark. She’d changed out of her jeans into a shimmering dress that flared out loose around her hips and hung down to her ankles. Her skin gleamed pale against the dark fabric.
He reached out and pulled her over. “What’s the occasion?” he said, sliding his arms around her hips.
“No occasion at all. I just thought it would be a nice surprise. Do you want to have dinner first or dessert?”
“Dessert. Definitely dessert.”
3
When Jason pulled onto his street on Sunday afternoon, he found the annual neighborhood block party in full swing. Music, loud and bass heavy, pushed up into the air. Several neighbors had pulled their grills out onto the sidewalk and stood by in flip-flops and khaki shorts, flipping burgers and drinking bottles of beer concealed inside foam cozies. Kids ran in erratic circles in the middle of the street, enjoying the warm weather. The sky was a perfect shade of spring blue dotted with fluffy clouds in crazy popcorn shapes.
Maybe he’d grab a few bottles of beer from his refrigerator and be sociable for an hour or two before he settled down to work; he didn’t want to spend his entire Sunday stuck behind his laptop. He turned into his driveway, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. A bike leaned against the side of his house, half hidden behind an azalea bush, far enough back so it wasn’t visible from the street, but the kid was nowhere in sight.
So where was he? Crouched by a window, trying to have a little look-see? And if so? The kid, old enough to have racing hormones, probably hoped to catch a glimpse of Mitch. In the summer of Jason’s fourteenth year, a very young nurse housesat for the family next door when they went on vacation. She worked at night and spent the hot afternoons stretched out on a towel in the backyard. The sight of her cleavage spilling out of her bikini top was enough to make Jason forget his name, and he’d discovered he could see her if he climbed halfway up one of the trees in his own yard. For two weeks, he’d spent hours up in the tree, hidden from view, watching her. After that, she became the object of many a fantasy and many sticky midnight dreams.
But since the kid’s bike was parked—hidden—near the end of the house, the absence of Jason’s car would be obvious. Which meant he knew no one was home. So what was he doing?
The music swallowed up the sound of his car door opening and closing. Jason crept around to the back of the house and peeked around the corner. No one lurked by any of the windows or stood on his porch. He rubbed his forehead. The kid could be crouched down on the other side of the porch, but for what reason?
Jason had good deadbolt locks on his doors
, and he knew all the windows were locked up tight; the kid had to be somewhere outside the house. Plus, if there’d been thefts in the neighborhood, the community association would’ve added it to their monthly bulletin. If, in fact, the kid was breaking into houses, he couldn’t be stealing anything worth value. Of course, he could be stealing dirty magazines or women’s underwear, something to make his own midnight dreams a little sweeter. What man would admit that his secret stash of porn had disappeared? A wife might notice her favorite blue panties were gone, but she’d probably blame the dryer or maybe the dog.
At the far edge of the porch, a small black mound rose up, then disappeared, a small black mound that looked suspiciously like the top of a baseball cap. “I got you,” Jason whispered. The mound made another quick up-down bob, and he crept forward, keeping his feet on the grassy patch between the sidewalk and the house. His heart rate sped up as he closed the distance. When he reached the porch, he quickened his steps and rounded the corner. The kid, indeed wearing a baseball cap, looked up, his mouth dropping open.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason said, reaching out.
His fingers brushed the edge of the kid’s sleeve, but the fabric slipped out of his hand when the kid crab-walked backward several feet away. Then he scrambled to his feet, thrust his hand forward, and something flew through the air toward Jason’s chest. Jason stepped back and waved his hand, knocking it out of the air. The kid took off running, back down along the side of the house, toward the front, and Jason started forward, then skidded to a halt. The kid had already made it to the front lawn. He’d never catch him, and if his neighbors saw him giving chase, what would they think?
He stalked back and nudged the grass with the toe of his shoe, revealing a foot-long stick the width of his finger. A small scrap of bark clung to the front of his shirt; he brushed it away and bent down. The kid had dug several long grooves in the empty flowerbed next to the porch. Jason used his foot to fill them in.
Then a loud thump came from the end of the yard, and Jason whirled around, his mouth dry. The door to the shed hung halfway open. The latch didn’t close properly, and if the door wasn’t given an extra push when closed, it popped back open, swinging back to thump against the corner.
What had the kid expected to find in the shed? A small stretch of the imagination provided an answer, not a nice answer but an answer nonetheless. Maybe he wanted hedge trimmers; they would do some serious damage to soft kitty flesh.
Jason crossed the yard and swung the door all the way open. The rake, the lawn mower and the hedge trimmers were all in their places, neat and tidy. He shut the door, making sure to give it the extra push, promising himself to buy a lock. The kid had been empty-handed, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t come back.
4
When the sun began its descent in the sky on Monday night, Jason slipped on his shoes and left the house, locking the door tight behind him. The early evening air, cool with only a hint of a breeze, made the perfect excuse for a walk.
The kid’s bike sat out on his front lawn (Jason had left it propped up against his own house; the kid had come back to reclaim it sometime during the night), but the house itself loomed dark and lifeless, the driveway empty. Jason strolled down to the end of the street. A few teenagers sat on the curb in front of a big white house, doing a lot of nothing, but the neighbor kid wasn’t one of them. He crossed the street and walked back up.
I just want to know why he’s nosing around my house, that’s all.
He’d stopped after work to buy a new doormat, wondering, when he’d set it down on the porch, if the kid would leave him another present. Maybe he’d be nice enough to leave it on the step the next time.
Two steps away from the kid’s still-dark house, a collie dashed up the sidewalk, trailing a leash behind it, and stopped right in front of him. It lifted its nose to sniff the air, then backed up. An old man with thinning hair and a paunch came jogging up the walk a few seconds later.
“I’m sorry, Jasper pulled the leash right out of my hand, then he ran away from me. He thinks it’s a game. I don’t run as well as I used to, but he doesn’t realize that.”
Jason put out his hand; the collie cocked his head, then bared his teeth. No growl, just very visible, very long teeth.
“Come on, Jasper, say hello to our neighbor.”
Jasper flattened his ears and settled back on his haunches. Jason pulled his hand back and introduced himself.
“Don’t mind Jasper. I guess he’s just not himself tonight. He usually loves people. I’m Martin,” the man said. “Martin Cooper. I live in the brick house down at the corner.”
“The one with the big flagpole, right?”
“You got it. That one’s yours, right?” Martin pointed.
“No, the one next to it.”
Jasper lifted his lips, revealing more teeth. Martin didn’t notice, but Jason did. He wouldn’t want to be alone with the dog, collie or not.
“Well, Jason, I’d love to stay and talk, but I need to get home. I turn in early these days. If you ever want to come down for a cup of coffee, you know where I live. My door’s always open, except when it’s shut.”
“That sounds good. Hey, do you know the name of the kid who’s always out here riding his bike?”
“Which one?” Martin said with a shake of his head. “They all have bikes these days. Always riding around in the middle of street like they own the damn thing.”
“He lives in the gray house.”
“Oh, the Marshall’s kid. Alex. He’s a weird one, if you ask me.”
You have no idea.
“Thanks. I was going to ask him if he’d cut my lawn.”
Martin laughed, and Jasper echoed the sound with a bark. “I doubt it. The kid is aimless. The Marshalls have a lawn service. I know because they tried to sell their service to me, too. The day I can’t take care of my own lawn is the day I need to sell my house.”
“Okay, thanks. Maybe I’ll ask them for their number.”
Martin made a face that let Jason know exactly what he thought of that idea.
“Don’t bother with any of the kids in this neighborhood. Not a one of them mow lawns or wash cars or anything. That’s the damn problem with kids these days. They’re lazy and want everything handed to them. They don’t know the meaning of work.”
Martin shook his head and gave him a wave as he turned to walk back down the street, still mumbling about kids. Jasper followed suit, but not before he gave a very low, unfriendly woof.
5
The high-pitched ring of his cell phone woke Jason up an hour after he’d climbed into bed, and his stomach dropped when he saw the name and number on his phone’s display: Towson General Hospital.
“Jason, it’s Mom.” Her words came out in a husky whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s your father. We’re at the hospital. He had another heart attack, but they said it wasn’t a major one. The doctors think he’s going to be okay.”
“I’m on my way.” Jason got out of bed and started grabbing clothes.
“Jason that’s not—”
He heard a voice, then his mother’s in reply, then everything muffled. Thirty seconds later, the phone disconnected with a small, definitive click.
6
When Jason arrived at the hospital, he went straight to the emergency room, but neither his mother nor father was there. He spent ten minutes at the front desk, shifting his weight from foot to foot and drumming his fingers on the desk; they didn’t have his father’s name in their system yet, so he had no idea where to go. The receptionist finally called the Cardiac Care Unit and nodded to Jason.
Please don’t let me be too late.
The hospital had recently finished a huge renovation, and as he raced down a long, unfamiliar hallway, wrapped up in the smell of antiseptic and illness, his heart raced, and his palms turned sticky with sweat. He came to the end of a hallway, but the sign in front of him said nothing about the CCU.<
br />
Shit.
His father’s last heart attack was minor, but his mother’s voice, that strange whispery tone, made him think this one might be much worse, and the click as she hung up on him did not bode well at all. Jason backtracked down the hallway until he came to an opening that he’d missed. The sign pointing him to the CCU was small; no wonder he’d missed it.
As he walked down another long hall, identical to the first, he realized he hadn’t passed a soul.
Like I’m the only person here.
He came to another opening, another small sign, and still there was no sign of anyone else. Sweat ran in a cold trail down his spine as he took the hallway to the right.
Like one of those movies where the hero wakes up and finds he’s the last man left alive. And at first, he thinks he’s the lucky one. He thinks something horrible happened to everyone else. Until he realizes that something horrible has happened, but he isn’t lucky at all.
Another sign. Another turn. As he rounded the corner, he almost collided with an orderly in a tan uniform. Jason stepped aside to avoid him, and his left arm hit the wall hard enough to send a flare of pain down to his fingertips.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jason said.
The orderly, a tall man with a bald head, dark skin, and deep-set eyes glared at Jason. A tattoo on his arm caught Jason’s eye—a pinup girl in a sexy pink nightgown with something hidden behind her back. She wore a very naughty expression on her face, and not naughty in a nice way.
“You should be careful,” the orderly said in a low, cigarette-rough voice.
“I will.”
The orderly scratched his head, and his scalp rippled with the movement. A stink like an old ashtray filled to overflowing rose up and out as the orderly turned, waving him away with one hand. “Go on now.”
Jason’s mouth went desert dry. He couldn’t move. The orderly laughed, a quick humorless sound, and stared at him with pale green eyes nearly swallowed up by his heavy lids.
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