The Second Life of Nick Mason (Nick Mason #1)(35)

Mason watched the two kids for a while. The one with the plastic bat was about to hit the other one when a man appeared on the scene just in time to stop him. He was still short and as solid as a fullback. He had the same coloring as the kids, even if maybe he had a little less hair than he once did. Mason knew him immediately.

He got out of the car and shut the door. The man in the yard looked up when he heard the sound. He had the kid’s plastic bat in his hand and he dropped it when he saw Nick Mason stepping over the curb and approaching the fence.

“Nick? Is that you?”

Mason stood with his elbows on the top of the fence. The two boys stared up at him, sensing something in their father and not sure how to react. Eddie Callahan opened up the gate and stepped out. He grabbed Mason by the shoulders like he was verifying the man was real flesh and blood, not some kind of hallucination.

“What the hell,” he said. “I mean, what the hell.”

“It’s good to see you, Eddie.”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie said, taking a quick look up and down the street. “I mean, are you out?”

“I’m out.”

“How did that happen?” Eddie asked, looking around again.

“It’s a long story, Eddie. But I’m out.”

Eddie’s eyes settled on the car. “And what the hell are you driving?”

“A 1967 Camaro. I didn’t steal it.”

“Stop kidding around and tell me what’s going on.” He looked back at the two boys, who were standing at the gate. “It’s okay, guys. Let’s take you inside for a minute, okay. Let’s go see Mommy.”

He grabbed each of them by the hand and led them around back, taking one more look over his shoulder at Mason as he disappeared around the corner.

Mason stood there waiting for a while. Longer than it should have taken Eddie to put the kids inside. Meaning Eddie’s wife was probably looking out the window at him and asking Eddie a lot of questions. She might even be calling the police, Mason thought, and it spooked him for half a second until he remembered he had nothing to worry about. From the police, at least.

Eddie finally came back out, looking like he’d just gotten an earful. “Sandra’s a little concerned, Nick. Are you on the run?”

“Eddie, I’m not on the run. I’m not even on parole. I’m out clean. You got nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, clearly wanting to believe him.

“You gonna invite me in or not? Or are we gonna keep standing out here on the sidewalk?”

“Yeah, come on,” Eddie said, opening up the gate. “Maybe in the garage? Would that be all right? We can talk there.”

Mason shook his head and followed him. “This is the place you showed me. You told me you were thinking of buying it.”

“This is the place,” Eddie said. “It’s got a yard, you know? Most places don’t.”

Mason looked around at the thin strip of grass running down the lot line. Just wide enough, maybe, to drive a car down. But Eddie was right, most houses in this neighborhood didn’t even have this much.

“Bridgeport,” Mason said. “You actually moved out of Canaryville.”

“Yeah, everybody’s not all up in your business here. We really needed a fresh start. I mean, you know . . .”

Eddie cleared his throat and let that thought die in the air.

“What are your kids’ names?”

Eddie stopped and looked him. “Yeah, they were born when you were . . . I mean, it’s Gregory and Jeffrey.”

“They seem like great kids.”

“They’re a big handful.”

Eddie opened up the door to the garage and stepped inside, taking a quick look back at the house.

“Eddie, listen, I don’t want to get you in trouble here. If Sandra doesn’t want me here . . .”

“No, no, it’s cool. Come on in and sit down. I got it all set up in here. Sandra calls it my man cave.”

Mason stepped inside the garage and saw worktables along both walls. The tabletops were crowded with computer consoles and laptops. One table seemed to be set aside as Eddie’s personal desk, with a nice computer monitor, keyboard, mouse, the whole works. A leather office chair was situated in front of it.

“This is what I do,” Eddie said. “I fix them, I sell them. It’s been pretty busy.”

“I’m not surprised. You were always good with the technical stuff.” Meaning hot-wiring cars and disabling alarms.

There was a tall safe set in the corner of the garage. Mason went over and tried the handle. It was locked up tight.

“I got a couple of rifles in there,” Eddie said. “I still get to the range when I can, but too much other stuff going on, you know?”

Eddie rolled the office chair over to Mason. He pulled out a folding chair and set it up. Then he went to the little mini-fridge in the corner, opened the door, and took out two cans of Half Acre beer.

“You want one of these?”

“Sure.”

Eddie gave him the can and sat down on the folding chair. Mason looked down at the man for a moment before sitting.

“Eddie . . .”

“Yeah, Nick?”

“You can relax now.”

“I’m sorry, man.” Eddie slinked down in his chair like somebody had taken half the air out of him. “I just don’t know what to think. You show up like this, when you’re not supposed to be out for another twenty years . . .”