The Unwilling(42)

“You all good, brother?” Chance dropped his bike in the dirt, then leaned on the car. “You have money? You know where you’re taking her?”

“Yeah, man. I’m good.”

“Be adult, all right? Talk about the war or Nixon or Brezhnev.”

I laughed. “No.”

“Inflation, then. The recession.”

“Are you finished?”

“Just knock her panties off.” He winked and grinned, and went inside.

Chance, I thought.

He was in my head.

Pulling from the curb, I watched the time as I drove. I didn’t want to be early. I didn’t want to be late. On the sidewalk at Dana White’s house, I checked my watch a final time, then smoothed my hair, practicing silently.

Hello, Becky. You look beautiful this evening …

I walked toward the door, feeling I should have brought flowers. I’d never been on a real date …

Flowers. Damn it.

I hesitated at the bottom step.

Hello, Becky …

I was still there when the door opened, and Becky appeared, her face in the crack of the door, a glimpse of T-shirt and jeans.

“Gibby, come on.” Her voice was low, almost a hiss. “You can’t be here. You know that.”

“What? I don’t…” I shook my head, confused. She glanced away, showing the curve of her jaw, a tumble of hair. Turning back, she gestured with a hand. “Around the side. That way.”

The door closed before I could ask what she was talking about. Instead, I followed a line of bushes to a gate and the backyard and an open window. Becky was there, Dana White behind her. I squeezed through the landscaping, my face at the sill. “What do you mean I can’t be here?”

“Hush, all right?”

She made a shushing noise with her hands, and Dana pushed closer. “Becky, this is dangerous.”

“Not if you be cool.”

“My father will kill us—”

“What’s going on?” I interrupted.

Becky looked from Dana’s face to mine, and the conflict was obvious. “Screw it,” she said. “Get in here.”

“Becky, no.”

“Quiet, Dana. It’s not up to you. Gibby, come on before somebody sees.”

I didn’t know what was happening, but scrambled though the window, where I found Becky flushed, and Dana, beside her, pinch-faced and angry and pale. “If my parents find out, I’ll tell them you made me.”

“Button it, Dana. I mean it.” Becky studied my face, then put her hands on my shoulders, and stared into my eyes. It was like standing on a mountaintop. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Jesus. Okay. All right. Dana, check the hall.”

“No.”

“You know you’ll do it eventually, so stop wasting time.”

Dana crossed the room, saying, “This is bullshit, it’s bullshit…” Nevertheless, she cracked the door to check the hall. I heard a television, the sound of adults in muted conversation. She closed the door.

Becky said, “Lock it,” then took my hand, and led me to the edge of Dana’s bed. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I won’t. Just sit, okay? Just…”

She showed both palms, as if to keep me on the bed, then turned on a small television, and fiddled with the antenna. When the picture firmed, I saw a reporter, and then my brother’s face. Becky sat beside me, but it was Dana White who found the words. “Murder,” she said. “Your brother’s wanted for murder.”





15


By the time I reached home, I remembered nothing of the drive but darkness and speed. “Mom. Dad.” I spoke from the entry hall, but neither noticed me. My mother was yelling. Broken glass was everywhere.

“Of course he did it! Of course he did!”

“Gabrielle, please…”

“Why didn’t you warn me? Tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know…”

“I saw it on the news, William! My own son! I saw it on the news!”

“Gabrielle, please…”

“Now he’s back, and with Gibby! Now Gibby’s at risk!”

“He’s not with Gibby. Gibby’s fine.”

“Where is he, then? My good boy…”

She folded at the knees, and my father knelt beside her. He saw me then, and gestured me back; so I went outside to wait by the cars. Through the window, I saw him get my mother to her feet, and guide her toward the bedroom. She stumbled twice. He never let her fall. When he came outside, we met where the driveway ended. He seemed unwilling to speak, so I started the conversation. “Is it true about Jason?”

“It’s true there’s a warrant for his arrest.”

“So, Tyra is dead?”

“She was murdered, son. That’s all I can tell you. You will have to talk to Martinez, though. You knew her. You may have insights.”

“Martinez? Why not you?”

“I’m too close. They won’t let me near it.”

“Dad, come on…”

He shook his head, waved me off. “Is there anything you want to tell me first? Anything I need to know? You knew Tyra. You knew her with Jason.”