Dunk (23 page)

I realized he wasn't expecting an answer. I waited for him to go on.

“Linda Beth Cassidy. Libby, to her friends. She was the first girl I ever met who thought my jokes were funny. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. We kept dating while I went to college. Got married right after I graduated. It was like a dream. I started getting acting work right away. Commercials. Small plays. I was the golden boy. I'd been offered a role in a TV series. We took a vacation to celebrate. Kent, our son, was in the backseat.

“The weather was fine. I wasn't speeding. I was sober.” Malcolm shrugged. “A tire blew on the car in front of us. It spun out of control. Eight cars were involved in the crash. Only two people died.”

“Oh, man,” I whispered.

“One minute I had everything. An instant later I had nothing. I didn't even have someone to blame.”

I tried to find the right words. I knew he wouldn't want my pity.
I'm sorry
seemed like too little. Anything more felt like too much. Malcolm saved me from saying something awkward. “You in the mood to practice a bit when we get back?” he asked.

“Sure. No reason not to.”

It turned out there was a big reason. As we reached the house, three police cars came screaming up to the curb, sirens howling like tonight was the end of the world.

A
NOTHER BLUR OF BADGES, BRIGHT LIGHTS, AND BLUE UNIFORMS
. “Mom!” I yelled. Something must have happened to her. A thousand fears rolled over me. But she came out of the house and stepped onto the porch as six car doors flew open. A couple cops jogged up the walkway to the house. Another pair rushed toward me and Malcolm. I had this crazy impulse to run. I wanted to vanish into the night. Especially when I saw Costas and Manetti getting out of the third car.

They herded us inside. One of the policemen asked Mom if they could look around. She nodded and mumbled something about having nothing to hide. Officer Manetti explained everything while the rest of the cops searched the house. “We were tipped off to a drug party on Abbot Drive,” he told Mom.

At the mention of drugs, Mom's gaze shot in my direction. Her expression twisted with fear.

My own face must have twisted as an awful image exploded in my mind. Gwen in handcuffs, dragged out of the house along with everyone else.

Officer Manetti kept talking. “We arrested a number of people for possession and underage drinking. One of them told us your son was his supplier.”

“That's a lie!” I shouted. With a sickening jolt, it all fell into place. I glared at Malcolm, who'd settled down onto the couch. That phone call he'd made
—he
was the one who'd tipped off the cops. And now he was watching everything from his front-row seat, sucking it all in like it was just another scene to add to his collection. Oh, man. Anthony must have thought I was the one who'd ratted him out. He'd given them this story to get even. He probably figured they'd find some kind of drugs when they searched here. Druggies always assumed everyone else was using.

“I didn't do anything,” I said, looking toward Mom. She'd fallen into a stunned silence, like a deer dropped in the middle of a busy highway. This was bad, but I knew it wouldn't get any worse. I was clean. No drugs. They could search the house one atom at a time and they wouldn't find anything illegal. “It's okay, Mom. You'll see.”

I walked over to Malcolm. “Nice going. You got Gwen in big trouble.”

“Or out of big trouble,” he said quietly, not even bothering to look at me.

At least I'd be out of trouble soon, too—with the cops, that is. I knew there'd be trouble with Mom when they left.

“Got it!” Costas shouted, stepping back from the closet.

Anger replaced my fear. He was setting me up. If he'd found anything, he'd planted it.

Costas turned around, holding an old shoe box. “Drug money,” he said as he dumped the cash onto the table.

Manetti whistled. “Jeez, kid, you make more than I do.” He put on a pair of rubber gloves and started counting the money.

I hadn't bothered to keep track of it. I'd just tossed whatever Bob paid me into the box each night. I tried to guess what was there. I'd worked nearly every day for the last two weeks. Bob usually gave me twenty. Sometimes more. There was money in it from before, too, when I'd been running errands.

“Three hundred and seventy-eight bucks,” Manetti said. “Looks like you're going to take a ride, kid. You might as well tell us now. Make it easy on yourself. I'm sure the lab guys will be able to find traces of drugs in here.”

“It's not drug money,” I said.

Costas laughed. “You must know the world's most generous tooth fairy.”

Manetti ignored his partner and asked me, “Then where's it from?”

I looked over at Mom. I was doomed either way. If I admitted I was working at the Bozo tank, she'd know I'd broken my promise. But if I kept quiet, they'd drag me back to jail. It didn't matter that I hadn't done anything. I'd heard plenty of stories about innocent kids who were arrested and ended up spending months in jail before the mistakes got straightened out. The last thing I wanted was to show up on some TV news magazine as an example of how far the system could go wrong. No way I wanted my new best friend to be some guy with a nickname like Killer or Mad Dog.

“I've been working,” I said. I glanced at Malcolm, knowing he'd back me up.

But he wouldn't catch my eye. It was like he didn't want anyone to realize he was there.

Oh, my god. Another thought hit me. The cops still believed he was my dad. If he talked with them, they'd say something like
Your son is in a lot of trouble
. Mom would tell them
That's not his father
. Then Malcolm would be screwed. And Mom would find out about my trip to jail.

“Where've you been working?” Manetti asked.

“The dunk tank,” I said. I wanted to point to Malcolm and say
Ask him
. So what if he got in trouble? He deserved it for making that phone call. I imagined him sitting in a jail cell. Jumbled images raced through my mind. The cell turned into the dunk tank. I saw him falling again and again while Stinger, dressed as a cop, nailed the target. Then Stinger became Saul, the old bank robber, making conversation.
So, you got a wife? Any kids? Tell me about your family
.

Costas shook his head, as if he didn't believe me. Crap. I realized he'd heard me make the same claim the night on the boardwalk when I was trying to sneak into the tank. He hadn't believed me back then, either, To him, I was just a liar and a thief. And now a drug dealer. “Can you prove it?” he asked.

Not tonight, I thought. The tank was closed. Bob was gone from the boardwalk until tomorrow. I didn't even know how to get in touch with him.

“He works with me,” Malcolm told them. He got up and stepped away from the couch. “Our boss is a pig. Check the bills. There'll be ketchup or mustard all over them.”

Manetti looked down at the money and then at his gloved hands. “That's disgusting.”

Malcolm pulled a card from his wallet. “Here's his name and number. Bob Kirkhaus. It'll check out.”

“You'll vouch for your—”

“Absolutely,” Malcolm said, cutting Manetti off before he could say the word
son
.

“Okay,” Manetti said, putting the money back in the box and peeling off the gloves. He took the card from Malcolm, then looked back at me. I noticed that Malcolm had slipped a couple steps away, removing himself from the conversation again.

The other four cops headed out, leaving Costas and Manetti to wrap things up.

“So how does this Anthony know you?” Manetti asked.

“We like the same girl,” I told him.

“Isn't she lucky,” Costas said with a snort.

I ignored him and asked Manetti, “Did any girls get arrested?”

He nodded. “A couple.”

I wanted to ask if one of them was a redhead, but Officer Costas grabbed my shoulder.

“Wait,” he said. “I'll bet the kid doesn't have a work permit.”

“Shut up, Costas,” Manetti said.

His partner stared at him. So did everyone else.

“What did you say?” Costas asked when he finally managed to speak.

“I said shut up. Leave the kid alone. Come on. Let's go find some real criminals for you to snarl at.”

Costas shrugged and released me.

Officer Manetti stepped over to Mom and said, “Listen, ma'am, I apologize for the search, but we have to follow up on these things. We have to do our job.”

Mom nodded. “I understand.”

But as the police left, I wondered how much of the rest of it she'd understand.

“W
ORKING
?” M
OM ASKED
. “A
FTER EVERYTHING
I'
VE TOLD YOU
? After all the times we've talked about it, you sneak behind my back and get a job?”

“It's not really a job. I'm only there a couple hours a night,” I said. “It's not full-time or anything.”

“Chad, you've been lying to me.” She shook her head and looked away.

I knew what was going through her mind. Dad used to tell her he was working when he wasn't. Now I was doing the opposite. Either way, each of us had lied to her. And I'd just lied again. It wasn't a couple hours. It was three or four.

“At least I'm not a drug dealer,” I said. That should be worth something. She could be stuck with a kid like Anthony. Of course, Anthony's mother probably believed her son was an angel.

Mom didn't answer.

“It's my fault, Mrs. Turner,” Malcolm said, stepping back into the scene and turning on the charm. “I asked Chad to help out. If you're going to be angry at someone, blame me.”

“No,” I said, moving between Mom and Malcolm. “Nobody forced me to do anything. I made my own decision. I'll take my own blame.”

Malcolm started to speak, but I held up my hand to silence him, then turned toward Mom. “It was my own choice.” I wasn't going to hide behind Malcolm. I didn't want him to get me out of trouble by charming Mom or playing some role that would distract her from what I'd done. I was going to take responsibility. I wasn't going to run and duck. Not like my dad. I wasn't going to find someone else to blame.

“Maybe I should let you two talk,” Malcolm said.

Mom and I both nodded.

Malcolm looked at me, and then at Mom. “I'm sorry my phone call caused all this trouble. But I'm not sorry I made the call. A very nice girl was about to stumble into a whole lot of danger.” He looked back at me as if hoping that I'd understand. “I'd do it again if I had to.”

I was really pissed at him for calling the cops. And grateful. Why couldn't anything involving Malcolm ever be simple? Either way, I wasn't about to let him off the hook too easily, so I changed the subject. “Thanks for explaining the money to them,” I said. I thought about that day when he hadn't helped me, the day he'd stayed on the bench and let the cops hassle me after Anthony stole the sunglasses. It seemed part of the distant past now. Something that had happened to two other people.

Malcolm grinned, then spoke like a crook from an old gangster movie. “He was wiff me, officer, wiff me da whole time. Honest.” He bowed, spun around, and walked out the door.

Mom sat down at the table.

“You can't blame me for the cops coming.” I took a seat at the other end.

“That's true.”

“But I guess I did stuff you told me not to do.” I had to admit my other lie. “Actually, it's not a couple hours. It's more like four. But that's still really just part-time. It's not a full workday or anything.”

A trickle of tears ran down her cheeks, making me feel like the rottenest son in the world. She deserved better. She'd grown up so poor and then, at sixteen, been swept away by a guy who'd filled her head with dreams and promises. There'd been nothing but hard work and heartbreak. Now I was just adding to the burden. I tried to read all the emotions playing across her face.

“Mom . . . ? Say something.”

“It's my fault,” she said.

“What?”

“I haven't been here for you. None of this would have happened if I was here.”

“Don't blame yourself,” I said. “You did what you had to. And you
are
here. You didn't run off somewhere.” I thought about all those nights when I could have come home earlier. And the mornings when I'd slept late. Worst of all, I thought about those weeks I'd wasted wrapped in my own misery.

“I've missed so much,” she said. “You're growing up.”

“Hard to avoid,” I said, trying desperately to make her feel better. It wasn't a great joke, but I expected to at least get a smile.

Instead, she shook her head sadly and said, “It's not going to be the two of us much longer.”

Oh, man. Those words. I remembered the last time Dad was here. He'd stayed for less than a month. They'd been talking. He must have thought I was asleep. He was getting ready to leave. I heard the door open.
We could have made it, Annie
, he'd said.
We could have made it if it had just been the two of us
.

But it's not just us
, she'd told him.

He'd grunted as he picked up his bag.
This wasn't the way we'd planned it
.

It's the way it is
, she'd said as the door closed and he walked out of our lives.

That song, “Just the Two of Us”—I hated it.

He'd never wanted me.

But Mom had. She'd let him go. And it had become the two of us—me and Mom. She'd chosen me over him. Now I was growing up. She'd been trying to keep that day from coming. The day when a job, or a girl, or some other inevitable part of life would tear me away from her.

“I'll always be your son,” I said. “No matter what I'm doing. No matter where I am.” I didn't know what else to say. I didn't know what promises I could keep.