Wolfe in Shepherd's Clothing

by David Gane

  “We own the night, man,” Donny says, puffing up his chest.

  “What were you doing out there?” Charlie asks, keeping him on track.

  “A couple of my people were just hanging out, you know, taking it in, keeping track of who’s on our turf and where.”

  “And the suit was there? Did he talk to you?”

  He glowers at me. “Guys like that don’t talk to people like us. We’re invisible to them. We don’t exist. Unless they want something.”

  I suddenly realize why all the hate’s directed my way.

  “What did he want?” Charlie asks.

  “He asked them where he could score some weed.”

  “Them? He didn’t talk to you?”

  Donny sighs, unhappy that he’s no longer part of the story. “Nah, he talked to Benny and Granite.”

  “And all he wanted was weed?” I persist.

  “At the beginning. Then he started asking for harder stuff, which we’re not gonna get into with some guy we just met in the park.”

  “You don’t think he was a cop?”

  “Nope. Cops can’t afford the clothes he was wearing.”

  “You said he wore a suit. How nice a suit?” Charlie wants to know.

  “You know.” He looks over at me. “Shiny.”

  I ignore it. “And that’s it?”

  Donny nods.

  Charlie gives him a look. “Bullshit. What else?”

  Donny sighs, shaking his head. “You know me too well, brutha.”

  Charlie ignores him. “What’re you not telling us?”

  Donny smiles. “Something was off.”

  “Like what?”

  “He wasn’t, I dunno, rigid enough, and his questions were weird. He started asking about us, about how busy the park was, about how often cops patrolled the place. Questions that shouldn’t matter. And then that was it. He left.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like?” I ask.

  His smile turns my way for the first time. “Hell, no. My best art comes when I’m high, y’know what I’m saying?” He waves a hand at me. “Pshh. ’Course you don’t.”

  I feel like I’m back on the playground.

  He points to Charlie’s phone. “Is that enough for the trade?”

  Charlie nods and has started to jot down the address on a scrap of paper when good ol’ Benny calls out from the mattress again. “You should give him the wallet.”

  Charlie stops writing and looks at Donny. “You got the guy’s wallet?”

  Benny mumbles, “Granite picked it when the guy wasn’t looking.”

  Yup, I’m positive poor Benny’s getting a shit-kicking later.

  Charlie scowls at Donny. “You still holding out on me?”

  He shrugs. “Well, it’s empty now. Didn’t think it was relevant.”

  Charlie sets the pen down. “Would you mind getting it?”

  Donny looks at the half-written address, knowing he’s not getting the rest until Charlie’s got the wallet. “Benny!”

  A scrawny-looking kid appears from under the blanket, his ribcage jutting out from beneath his skin. I don’t know what he’s on, but it’s not doing anything for his health. He grabs a black garbage bag from a pile and dumps hundreds of wallets out on the floor.

  “What’s missing?” Charlie asks as Benny rummages through them.

  “The only thing we took out was sixty bucks, cash. No credit cards, no useful ID. The rest is as is. Whoever the guy was, he didn’t want to be found,” says Donny.

  Benny continues digging for a while and pulls out a leather wallet with a tiny silver dolphin on it. He offers it to me with a lopsided smile.

  Poor Benny.

  The leather is soft and of good quality and I open it up. There isn’t much in it: a punchcard for a coffee shop, a business card for a flower shop, and a library card with a bar code and an illegible scrawl on the signature line. There’s no name printed on any of them.

  I turn the wallet over and check every compartment.

  Nothing else.

  “You got what you wanted,” Donny nods at the address, “Can we finish this?”

  Charlie writes out the rest, then emails the floor plans.

  Donny’s phone bings, and the stone-faced, missing-tooth grin returns. “So, what’s gonna happen when your new family figures out who you really are, huh? How long they gonna let you hang around?”

  Charlie turns me toward the stairs. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  But Donny’s not done. “Don’t worry, brutha. When they’re done with you, when they kick you out, you’ll always have a place. We’ll always take you in. You always gonna be a part of our family. And, God knows, you never turn your back on family!”

  chapter 53

  By the time we get out of Donny’s, I’ve gotten several texts from Dad asking where we are. We’re late for supper.

  I hustle us to the car. Unfortunately, it’s still rush hour and I hit every light.

  “What’s the deal, Shepherd? Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m not doing this on purpose!”

  By the time we walk in the house, supper’s growing cold on the table, and I can see the frowns on my parents’ faces.

  Charlie intervenes. “Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. S. It’s all my fault. I wanted to swing by the mall.”

  “Why didn’t you let us know you were running late?”

  “I really thought we’d be quicker,” he says.

  “And what’s your excuse for not replying to your dad?” Mom asks me.

  I give her a meek shrug, knowing Charlie’s taking it all in, so I throw myself under the bus. “Well, there were these girls—”

  “So?”

  She’s obviously learned not to trust me when Charlie’s involved, but I’m ready. “Seriously? You think I’m going to start texting my parents while I’m trying to wheel the ladies?”

  I know she’ll hate that last part—and I’m hoping it’ll distract her from our lateness.

  She proves me right.

  “You better be treating those young ladies with respect.”

  “Of course, Mom!”

  She shakes her head at the thought of me doing otherwise.

  Charlie wanders off to the dining room and plops himself down at the table. “Hey, Mr. S., supper looks great!”

  “We’re having maque choux and ribs,” Dad responds. “I thought I’d take advantage of the warmer weather and fire up the barbecue again.”

  Charlie takes the lid off a ceramic dish filled with some kind of corn concoction. He takes a deep breath. “Mmm. Can we please eat?”

  I don’t know if he does all this intentionally, but it seems to dissolve the last of Mom and Dad’s irritation with us.

  Mom motions for the rest of us to sit down, and Charlie immediately takes it as a cue to start dishing food onto his plate. He grabs a sweet corn biscuit, and helps himself to ribs. He takes a mouthful of the corn and swallows it in one bite, giving Dad a look of Oh my God, delicious!

  I feel bad because I rarely gush over the food my parents make, even though I’ve enjoyed almost every bite. I guess, having grown up with it, I’ve taken it for granted.

  “Glad you like it,” Dad says.

  “Definitely!” Charlie’s enthusiasm is catching, and Dad returns his smile.

  “How was school?” Mom asks.

  I can see she’d still like to reprimand us, but we both know the moment has passed.

  “Seems good. Too early to tell,” Charlie says between big mouthfuls. Mom and Dad give each other a look, and he picks up on it. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it will continue to be good. I just don’t want to mislead you, saying it’s great and then running into a glitch later.”

  Dad nods. “Well, we appreciate your transparency, Charlie.”

>   “Oh, and I joined the golf—team? Club? Whatever it is, I joined it!”

  We’re all surprised, and Charlie chuckles. “Yeah, well, I thought I’d take advantage of opportunities I’ve never gotten before. Of course, there’s a small fee—”

  “No worries, Charlie—” Dad says.

  But Charlie interrupts. “Hey, I’ve got a job; I can pay for it. You don’t need to cover my extracurricular activities. Besides, they supply the clubs and lessons. It’s pretty golden.”

  Mom smiles. “Imagine not having to pay for someone’s activities!”

  “That’ll be a relief,” Dad agrees. “Pretty sure we had to take out a second mortgage when Tony joined hockey,” he adds.

  “Hey!” I say.

  “Wait, you were in hockey?” Charlie asks.

  “One season,” I say defensively.

  “Thank goodness,” Dad chuckles.

  “It was like watching a giraffe on skates,” Mom says.

  Charlie laughs out loud and corn shoots onto his plate.

  “Okay, enough,” I grumble. I don’t need to be reminded of how much I sucked.

  Mom rubs my shoulder. “Hey, don’t feel bad, son. Remember that one time I went golfing with your dad?”

  “Let’s not bring that up,” Dad says.

  “One time?” Charlie sets down his fork and leans in. “Now this sounds good.”

  “You don’t want to know,” I warn.

  Dad jumps in before Mom can tell her version. “She suggested we do a couple’s activity and go golfing. I thought it was a great idea—until I started offering suggestions on her swing.”

  “Hey, just don’t tell me what to do,” Mom laughs.

  “As you know,” and here Dad speaks in a loud aside to Charlie, “Keya is, well, just a little bit stubborn.”

  Mom holds up a forefinger and thumb, showing a small amount.

  Dad gives us a conspiratorial wink. “She’s very protective of the way she does things.”

  “Only when it comes to taking poor advice,” Mom laughs.

  “Learning is all about finding your own path,” Charlie offers.

  “Exactly!” Mom says.

  I’m sure she’s aware of the irony of agreeing with Charlie on that point.

  “And you haven’t golfed since?” he asks.

  “Of course I have. Just not with Ben.”

  “Oh, Mr. S., that’s a heartbreaker!”

  And now Dad really does lower his voice. “Not if you knew what golfing with her was like!”

  chapter 54

  Once we’re done supper, Mom and Dad leave the house for some alone time with Ollie. After the long winter, everyone wants to get outside for fresh air. My parents are no different.

  Charlie and I finish doing dishes quickly and start thinking about homework.

  “Should I make coffee for us so we can work down here?” Charlie asks.

  “Sure.”

  While Charlie preps the French press, I drop my iPhone into the dock and queue up a random playlist of Dad’s music selections—it still kinda blows my mind that Charlie and Dad have the same taste—with a little bit of mine mixed in.

  Charlie fills his radio station mug, pours another for me, and sits at the island, digging textbooks out of his backpack.

  I should do the same, but I can’t focus. “What do you think about what we found today?”

  Charlie dumps the rest of his bag on the table. “Homework, dude.”

  “Come on, man. You ID’d a tag and we traded someone’s address for a wallet—”

  “Shepherd! Study time!”

  “But—”

  “Not now.”

  “When?”

  “Later.”

  I surrender. I can’t make Charlie Wolfe do anything he doesn’t want to, and I admire his ability to compartmentalize the different aspects of his life.

  We work quietly for a while, but I can tell something’s bothering him; despite his intention to focus on homework, he can’t quite settle into doing it. He must be thinking about the murders. I’m wrong.

  “So, this is your normal life?”

  “Sorry?”

  “You’re not making all this,” a broad sweep of his arm takes in the tidy kitchen, the cozy house, and me, “look like a Disney movie on purpose, are you? This is your actual life?”

  “Yeah. This is my life.”

  “Huh,” he says. “You know, I’ve been popping in from time to time for the past year and a half, but I just assumed you’ve all been putting on a show whenever I’m here. But this really is the day-to-day deal, isn’t it?”

  I’m sort of stunned but try not to show it. “You think we’d put in that much effort for you?”

  Charlie shrugs. “Maybe?”

  “You give us—and yourself—far too much credit.”

  Charlie says nothing more and goes back to work. But his question reminds me of a certain aspect of today’s events.

  “Mr. Lock and Donny—?”

  “Homework,” Charlie mumbles, ignoring me.

  I persist. “They didn’t seem to like the ‘new’ you.”

  He looks up. “What do you mean?”

  I try to put it into words. “Neither seemed too thrilled that we’re friends.”

  “Well, not to get all mushy on you, Shepherd, but a good friend never holds you back from growing.”

  I know he does think of me as a good friend, though he rarely expresses it. “You’re saying they like having you in their little box.”

  There’s growing strain on his face, like he’s getting a headache. Like he’s been holding something back. He closes the textbook and lays down his pen.

  “For a long time, I needed them, because, well, things happened. I was on my own and I needed a place to stay, and Fran took me in and Donny gave me jobs to run to earn my keep. It didn’t take long to realize how much people value information, and I worked my way through downtown until I met guys like Lock. People like him are everywhere, and I understood I could leverage them against each other.”

  He pauses to sip his coffee, savouring the flavour. He sets the cup down and I think he’s going to go back to work, but he finishes his thought. “Look. People like Donny and Lock don’t fit into this way of life,” he waves a hand at the house in general. “And they don’t like to lose a good thing. But I made a promise to your folks, and I’m going to try and honour it.” He picks up his pen and flips open his textbook again. “Now can we quit talking about this? I’ve got to study for this trig exam, and you keep leading me astray.

  chapter 55

  Eventually, the coffee pot is empty and the binders are closed. On the way up to our rooms, I ask Charlie, “Mind if I look at the wallet?’

  “Really, Shepherd?” he protests.

  “Hey, whatever, man,” I say, raising my hands in surrender.

  He relents. “Fine, I’ll bring it to you.”

  I dump my books in my room and text Mike to see if he had any success on his date with Carrie, but he doesn’t respond.

  Charlie appears at my door and tosses me the wallet.

  I’ve barely caught it when he gestures at the PS4 collecting dust on my shelf. “Why don’t we set that up, play some Rocket League?”

  But I have a better idea. “How about we set up your Nintendo and play Mario Bros.?” I know he hasn’t touched his moving box; maybe this will finally get him to unpack.

  He just stares at me.

  I give in. “Fine. We’ll play PS4, but after I kick your ass, we play Mario.”

  “Big talk, little man,” he says. “You mean if—”

  I’m much taller than Charlie, so this makes me laugh. “No, I mean when—”

  I open up my closet and dig out the small twenty-one-inch TV tucked away in the back.

 
“Of course you’ve got a spare TV just lying around.”

  I never really thought about how indulgent this must seem to a guy who barely has anything.

  He shakes his head. “Oh, don’t start crying on me now, princess. Just givin’ you a hard time.” He points to the guitar I have in the closet too. “How come you never drag that out?”

  I pause. “Uh, it’s just been a while—”

  “Wait. Is this a Sheri thing?” Charlie asks.

  I don’t answer right away.

  He sighs. “Aw, Shepherd. Maybe it’s about time you start playing again.”

  I stare over at it, remembering when I used to play it at parties or take it up to the lake and strum away by the campfire. The last two years have made a big difference in my life, but maybe it’s time to not let it hurt so much.

  “All right then,” Charlie says. “Can we stop sharing our feelings now so I can destroy you?”

  We set up the TV on the shelf beside the console and turn it on. The game starts up and we choose our cars. I take the Breakout, while Charlie picks the Octane. We play viciously.

  It doesn’t take long before Charlie’s jumping off the bed, yelling, “No! You didn’t! Shit!”

  I smile to myself. “Hell, bro. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “It’s ’cause you cheated!”

  “No way.”

  “I had first touch on that last ball!”

  “Doesn’t mean anything.”

  “You’ve had more practice!”

  Now I’m laughing. Seeing him lose control is great—I love it. “Now who has to gear down!”

  “Two out of three!”

  I’m not going to push my luck. “Nope.”

  “If you win, I’ll unpack!”

  “What about if you win?”

  He smiles. “You have to play me your best badass version of ‘Wonderwall.’ ”

  I think it over. “Okay, but I don’t care about you unpacking. If I win, you sit down with me and we talk about the wallet.”

  “Fine. You start.”

  We play again and I’m severely kicking his ass, so much so that we don’t even notice Mom and Dad at the door until Dad speaks. “Homework better be done.”

  Charlie doesn’t look away from the game. “As always, Mr. S.”