The Sound of Broken Ribs(30)

“You’re probably right,” Belinda said.

Tony nodded and went back to his dough.

“I’ve been thinking about the signs I must’ve missed—you know?” Belinda waited for Tony to respond vocally, but all he did was nod his head, as if to an unheard tune. “There must’ve been something I missed. But the more I think about it, the more Dan seemed just his old self.”

“He fooled you, but he never fooled me. Dan was a coward and a bad actor.” Belinda ignored the jibe. “I always knew he’d break your heart. Nothing against you, not calling you a fag hag or anything, but I think he was gay. I ain’t got nothing against queers. Carl and Frankie are gay, case you didn’t realize. I like them well enough. But I can’t stand a coward. Dan was probably both—a gay coward.”

Belinda watched her brother’s working hands as he folded and squeezed and punched the dough. All the while, she thought about the revelations she’d learned from Carl. How Tony was in the closet and had taken his latent homosexuality and homicidal tendencies out on innocent men. Tony likely thought that all men were just like him—hiding behind a wall of self-hate and fear.

“Anyway, whether he was a cock goblin or not is none of my business, and it ain’t none of yours now, neither. What you need to do is move on. You don’t need anyone in life but family. You came to the right place, and now I’m going to protect you like a big brother should.” He threw her a smile over his shoulder.

Belinda smiled back. She could only imagine how fake it looked on her face.

Tony rolled out his dough, cut it in half, and laid one side in a square glass baking dish. From the fridge he took a bowl of what looked to be beef stew. He poured that into the glass and smoothed everything out with his hand, lay the second square of dough over the stew, and then washed his hands. Everything went into the oven at 350.

“Remember when Mom used to make her Shepherd’s pie? That shit was delicious.”

Belinda did remember Mom making the dish, but didn’t recall it being delicious. She remembered it tasting slightly metallic, like chewing on aluminum foil, although she had no idea why. Belinda nodded to show Tony that she did share the memory, if not his affinity, for the dish.

“Yeah, well, I ain’t got any potatoes to mash for the topping, so I just slapped some dough on top. Call it Tony’s Pot Pie, or some shit. Should taste good anyway.”

Not if you followed Mom’s recipe for the filling, Belinda thought but didn’t say. She smiled for his benefit and stared at the table.

“You upset about what I did to Paul?”

Belinda looked up. Tony’s face had changed. Belinda thought that, for the first time in her life, she saw regret on her brother’s face.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

Although she already knew the answer, she wanted to see if he’d lie to her. “Why’d you do it?”

Tony shrugged. “I guess I kinda lost it. I didn’t like the idea of one of my friends fucking my sister in Mom and Dad’s house. Didn’t seem right. Didn’t seem… proper.”

Like you’d know proper from a hole in the ground, Belinda thought.

“But why kill him?”

“I don’t know, Bee. Why’d you run over that bitch yesterday morning?”

Belinda flinched.

“Sometimes we get a wild hair up our asses and only causing pain will quench that thirst. Paul was just one of those things. Like… like an accidently on purpose. Just like that author bitch you hit. Damn shame you didn’t kill her. That might come back to haunt you. But I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure that no one finds out.” He turned, ran some hot water, and washed the caked flour and dough from his hands. “I expect the same from you.”

Belinda knew exactly what Tony meant. He didn’t have to elaborate. If she told anyone, he would tell on her. Simple as that. They were back in elementary school, sharing a secret, him threatening her with consequences should she tattle.

Tony didn’t have to worry. Belinda wasn’t going to spill the beans. Guantanamo Bay security personnel couldn’t torture what Tony did to Paul out of her. Not in a million years.

She closed her eyes and the woman in the bright yellow sneakers bounced off the hood of her car. Her eyes snapped open to find Tony with his back to the sink, his hands behind him, propped up on the lip of the counter.

“It’s gonna be all right, Bee. I promise. We just have to trust one another and keep out of town for a while. I’ll do something about your car once the heat dies down. Drive it off Hunter’s Point like Old Man Hap did back in the nineties. If anyone asks, we say that Dan must’ve done it. When they can’t find his body, you can have him presumed dead after some years, and get the insurance money. He had insurance, right?”

“And if he comes back?” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Tony lurched forward and slammed two freshly washed fists onto the table. Belinda jumped back. Her chair barked on the lino, almost went over, her with it, but she managed to right herself in time.

“He’s not coming back, Bee,” Tony growled but didn’t raise his voice above its normal volume—as Mom would’ve said, he used his inside voice. “Get that shit out of your head. He’s fucking gone. Believe that. The faggot ass coward is gone.”