Run You Down (Rebekah Roberts #2)(52)
“Connie’s got a gig delivering beer for a distributor in Albany. I mean, that’s, like, the cover. He’s always got whatever else you want, too. Pot and pills, heroin.”
And guns, I think.
“After Ryan got out of jail, he cut ties with his dad. He was like, I’m not going back in.”
“So when did Ryan come out to his family?”
“Are you kidding? They don’t know he’s gay. They’d probably kill him.”
“The girl I met out there, Mellie?” Kaitlyn nods. “I think she knew. She was like, tell them not to come around here. She seemed really pissed.”
“Fuck,” whispers Kaitlyn. “I can’t believe Ryan didn’t tell me. I wonder if he even knows. Him and Sam were pretty careful. They only went to clubs and stuff down in the city or up in Albany and they never hung out at the bars Hank and Connie and their friends go to. Sam was kinda messed up about being gay, too. Actually, the one time me and Pessie really talked, that’s what we talked about. She came over right after Sam got out of prison. We had kind of a welcome home party. She brought some really good food and she was telling me about where they grew up. I didn’t know anything about Jews and Sam never talked about it. Anyway, she said she used to think gay people were evil. But she and Sam were really close—I actually thought they were brother and sister at first—and she said she realized that Sam, like, couldn’t help how he was. That he must have been born that way and that if God made him that way he must have had a reason. She was really nice. I can’t believe she’s dead. I can’t believe Ryan didn’t tell me.”
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
“Ryan?” She sighs. “That’s the thing. We had a fight a few weeks ago. I love Sam, I do, but I told Ryan I didn’t think their relationship was healthy anymore. I was, like, Sam needs help. Ryan knew, but … I mean, they’re in love. And Sam wasn’t always the way he is now. He changed a lot in prison. We used to kind of make fun of all the shit the Halls believe—race war and Obama the monkey and whatever stupid cliché crap they spout. Ryan doesn’t believe that stuff at all. I don’t think he ever did. But after Sam got out, he was talking like Ryan’s dad.”
“You didn’t think that was weird? A Jewish kid talking like a neo-Nazi?”
“Of course I thought it was weird! It’s f*cking insane. But, I mean, that’s how it is. Was.” She pauses. “You know, Ryan and Sam used to talk about running off together. Going down South, someplace warm where nobody knew them.”
“You think they might have left town?”
She shrugs. “If they didn’t, maybe they should.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AVIVA
Sammy moved into the pot apartment. He stopped working at the gas station and, for the next few months, every time the phone rang I thought it would be the police or the hospital. But when Sammy finally did get arrested, he didn’t call me: he called Conrad Hall.
“It was no big deal,” Sammy told us a couple weeks later. Every month or two he showed up, usually without notice, for Shabbos dinner. Isaac and I have been OTD for a long time, but we both keep Shabbos, in our own way. We like to make dinner, and, if we can help it, we don’t drive. I make my own schedule, and I do not take jobs on Saturday. Isaac’s work with the contractor was sporadic and he got a part-time job at one of the shops on the main street near campus, selling t-shirts and incense and CDs. He couldn’t always take Saturdays off, but when he could, we spent the day together. We both like science fiction books, and sometimes we read aloud to each other while we cook. Sometimes I just sleep, or drink wine or take a bath. I try to take time for myself, to remember to be calm in my mind. Sammy doesn’t keep Shabbos; he once told me that he makes it a point to expend as much energy as possible on the day of rest. When he came for dinner, he was always on his way somewhere else.
“It wasn’t my fault, anyway,” said Sammy, when Isaac pressed him. “Ryan got a DUI and I was in the truck.”
Isaac was skeptical.
“I had a little pot on me, okay?” said Sammy, mouth full.
“And they just let you out?”
Sammy kept eating. He poured himself some more wine.
“Please answer my question, Sammy,” said Isaac. Isaac feels tenderly toward Sammy, but he does not know how to connect with him anymore. Isaac was the one who realized immediately that Sammy and Ryan were having sex. Isaac said he tried to talk to him about it, just to let him know that he had a friend, but Sammy wasn’t interested in talking.
“Fuck you, Isaac,” said Sammy.
“Sammy!” I said.
“It was nothing,” said Sammy, hissing into his chicken. “Ryan’s dad bailed us both out, okay? He felt bad because it was Ryan that got us in trouble. It was nothing. I wouldn’t have even told you but I put this address down.”
“Our address?” The Nazis knew our address?
Isaac put his fork down. “Sammy, I do not think it is safe for you to be friends with those people.”
“Those people? You mean goyim?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” said Isaac, his voice rising. Isaac is a quiet man. We had been living together for almost ten years and, until that evening, I had never seen him angry. “I am not stupid. I know who Conrad Hall is. I know what you must be involved in if he is using his money to get you out of jail.”