One of Us Is Next(55)
I’m not getting anything out of her, obviously. And my dad’s a lost cause. “Café Contigo. Can I take your car?”
“Sure,” she says, too quickly. “Have fun but be home before eleven, please.”
“I will.” I pull her keys off the rack on our kitchen wall with the uncomfortable certainty that I’m missing something important. But I don’t know what.
* * *
—
“What’s up, my man?”
Crap. I came here to see Phoebe, not my new best friend, Sean. But she’s not here and he is, holding up one meaty paw for a high five.
I give in reluctantly. “Hey, Sean.”
“What are you up to?” Sean asks. He’s leaning against the counter, waiting for his order, totally chill. Shooting the shit like he didn’t watch his best friend die less than two weeks ago. Christ, I hate him.
Ever since that maybe-memory popped into my head, I can’t stop thinking about it: Sean standing at the edge of the construction site with his phone trained on something. And then everything goes blank, like a TV shutting off, and I hear his voice: What the fuck are you doing here, Myers?
Did that actually happen? Or am I imagining things?
I wish I could be sure.
Sean is still talking. “I’m picking up dinner for my girl. Food here sucks, but she likes it. What can you do, right?”
“Yeah, right.” I pull out a chair in a corner table near the register and set my backpack down but don’t sit. Sean’s phone is dangling from his hand while he waits. He’s not the type of guy who deletes incriminating pictures or videos, I don’t think. He doesn’t have that much common sense. I clear my throat and lean against the table as Luis comes out of the kitchen with a brown paper bag. “So, hey, Sean,” I say. “Can I ask a favor, man?”
Oh hell. That sounded ridiculous. I don’t know how to talk to guys like Sean. He cocks his head, looking amused, and I keep plowing ahead. “Do you think I could borrow your phone? I have to look something up and I left mine at home.”
Sean pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. “Knox, my man,” he says, extracting a twenty. “You did not. Your phone’s in the side pocket of your backpack.”
I drop into my chair, defeated. I’m beyond pathetic. “Oh yeah. So it is. Thanks.”
“How’s it going?” Sean says to Luis, and they do a complicated fist bump. Sean plays baseball too, well enough that he was on varsity when Cooper and Luis were seniors. “We miss you on the team, man. You going to Fullerton Thursday for Coop’s game?”
“Of course,” Luis says, handing Sean his change.
“Me too, brother.”
“See you there.”
“Sweet.” Sean turns from the register. “Catch you tomorrow, my man,” he says as he passes my table, holding out his hand for yet another high five. I slap his palm, mostly so he’ll get the hell out of here. He’s useless to me now that my sad attempt at espionage fizzled.
I could’ve used Maeve’s skills tonight.
When the door closes behind Sean, Luis grabs a glass and a pitcher of water from the bar and brings them over to my table. He sets both down and fills the glass. “Why’d you want his phone?” he asks.
“I, what?” I fumble. “I didn’t.”
“Come on.” Luis drops into the chair across from me with a shrewd look. “You looked like somebody kicked your puppy when he pointed yours out.”
“Um.” We regard each other for a few seconds in silence. I don’t really know Luis, other than the fact that he stuck by Cooper when almost nobody else did. Plus Phoebe thinks he’s great, and his dad is basically the nicest guy on the planet. I could have worse allies, I guess. “He took a video I want to see. But I don’t think he’d give it to me if I asked directly. Actually, I know he wouldn’t.”
“What kind of video?”
I hesitate. I don’t even know if it’s really there. The whole thing could be a product of my scrambled brain. But maybe it’s not. “Of the construction site the day Brandon died.”
“Huh.” Luis is quiet for a moment, scanning the room to see if anybody else needs his attention. They don’t, and he turns it back to me. “Why do you want it?”
Good question. “I can’t remember much about that day, because of the concussion,” I say. “Some of the things that people tell me happened don’t make sense. I guess I’d like to see it with my own eyes.”
“Luis!” Manny pops his head out of the kitchen. He’s like a fun-house mirror image of Luis: bigger, broader, and a lot more confused-looking. “Do we make guac with garlic or without?”
Luis looks pained. “Jesus, Manny. You ask that every day.”
“So…with?”
“I gotta go,” Luis sighs, getting to his feet. “You want anything?”
“Alfajores,” I say. “But no rush.”
He leaves, and I gaze around me. Now what? I’d been relying on Phoebe to keep me company, and I don’t really know what to do with myself alone in a restaurant. What did Maeve used to do for all those hours? I pull out my phone but immediately put it back when I see I have thirty-seven ChatApp notifications. Maybe later.