Hale Maree (4 page)

“
What did Ocker say about
it?”

“
Nothing. I don’t think he
knew anything at all.”

“
Maybe it is nothing
then.”

“
That’s what I’m thinking,”
I say. The call waiting clicks. “Sher, someone’s calling. I’ll call
you right back, okay?”

“
Yup,” she says and I click
over.

“
Hale?” Oscar’s voice sends
a quiver down both my legs and back up, meeting in places that
shouldn’t tingle just because a guy, who has a girlfriend, says my
name.

“
Hi,” I say. I’m about to
ask if he left something in the truck as he cuts me off.

“
I was wondering,” he says.
“If you’d meet me at a coffee shop tonight?”

My brain trips over my pounding heart. Did
my dad tell him on the ride back to his house? Oscar’s voice is so
weirdly calm, I’m not sure that he knows anything yet, so I play
along.

“
Sure, I’ll meet you. Are
you bringing Sophia?” I ask. He puffs an I’ve-been-called-out
breath on the other end.

“
I was thinking I’d leave
her home tonight.”

“
Probably not a good idea,
Oscar,” I try to joke. “You
are
loyal, remember?”

“
I am,” he sighs, “but if
you are going to be my wife, I guess that trumps any loyalty I have
to a girlfriend, now doesn’t it?”

I don’t know if he says anything else,
because I drop my phone and the screen shatters when it hits the
floor.

#

I generally cling to the notion that people
aren’t evil bastards. It’s hard to stay on task sometimes and
keeping thinking it, like when the girl at my school begged me, in
the ladies room, for a buck, so she could buy a tampon from the
machine. It was hard, because she didn’t use the money for what she
said she would, but ended up two people ahead of me in the lunch
line ten minutes later, buying a tray loaded with a burger, fries,
Coke and two desserts.

It was hard to keep believing when the guy
upstairs told the cops my dad was a dealer, to throw them off his
own scent. I mean, I try my best to assume that lunch girl really
needed the dollar more than I did, and that the guy upstairs just
made a super crappy mistake. I believe in karma and, sure,
sometimes I even try to kick it in the pants, to wake it up and
help it get an eyeful of what’s happening, but even when it doesn’t
come through, I still cling to the hope that people are good, down
deep. The prospect of life being full of a bunch of evil people,
who are waiting to screw you over the minute you turn your back, is
way too depressing.

But today, I am completely pulled under by
the idea that the biggest evil bastard of them all is the person
who helped create me. There’s something really jarring about
figuring out that your father isn’t just imperfect, but actually
evil.

My father walks in ten minutes later and I’m
standing five feet from the front door with my arms crossed over my
chest. He glances at me and tosses his keys on the dining room
table.

“
You talk to Oscar already?”
he asks.

“
You must’ve given him my
number. He called me.”

“
I figured he
would.”

“
I am
not
marrying a stranger,” I tell him.
“Whatever you did to make this happen, you have to un-do it. Give
the truck back to Mr. Maree and whatever he gave you. If you don’t,
I swear that I will leave tonight and you’ll never see me again,
Dad. Never. I mean it. I’ll live on the streets if I have to. So,
you tell me what you want to do. Should I stay or go?”

My dad rubs his face, exhausted. He motions
to the couch, for me to take a seat. He drops into the chair, but I
sit at the edge of the furthest couch cushion.

“
I’m trying to give you a
better...” he begins, but I stop him with a glare.

“
I don’t want a better
life.”

“
Okay.” He rubs his hand
over his face again. “Okay. Here’s the deal, Hale. I am trying to
get you out of this mess.
All
the messes I’ve made. You got to trust me on this.
I can’t tell you everything because...because I just
can’t.”

“
That’s not good enough,
Dad. I’m your daughter, and if you can’t trust me, then there’s
nobody else. If you’re going to ask me to do something as crazy as
this, then I think I should know what kind of trouble you’re
in.”

My dad rocks the chair he’s in by pushing
his toe against the floor. He moves his tongue around his mouth,
staring at me in deep thought while he does it.

“
It’s not my trouble, but it
could turn into that,” he finally says. “I helped out a friend and
he owes me for it, but having you marry his son is necessary. It’s
not just giving you a better life with money, but it’s also keeping
you safe.

“
Safe,” I repeat. My voice
slopes down to a whisper. “Dad, did you murder someone?”

“
I didn’t do anything,
Hale,” my father says. “But Otto made a mistake, and I happened to
be there to see it. I’m a witness. You understand what I’m
saying?”

I realize I’m holding my breath, but I
manage to answer, “I think so.”

“
I saw something I shouldn’t
have. Otto’s not a criminal, he’s not, but this
mistake
happened and now Otto could
lose everything if anyone were to find out. Otto didn’t make this
lawn-business deal to shut me up; it’s not like that. He’s just
asking for my help, and he’s going to help me out in
return.”

“
He killed
someone?”

“
I’m not talking about what
happened.” My father sits back in the chair. “It’s better if you
don’t know anything about it, so don’t ask anything
else.”

“
He’ll assume you told me.
Or the cops will.”

“
Not if you don’t know
anything. Nobody can assume nothing. That’s why Otto decided that
if you’re married into his family, it’s just extra security for
both of us.”

“
He doesn’t think I’d turn
in a father-in-law?”

“
Would you? Even if it
destroyed every shot you’ve got at having a decent life? Even if it
led back to your old man?” My dad’s eyebrows hike up.

He caught me. Of course, I wouldn’t. I’ve
watched enough mobster movies to understand what’s happening.
Otto’s keeping friends close and his accomplices even closer. But,
as far as I know, Mr. Maree isn’t a mobster. He’s a corporate big
wig with a bunch of degrees.

“
I don’t want this. And
Oscar’s got a girlfriend, did you know that?” I say. “It’ll never
work with us. You and Mr. Maree need to figure out something else,
and keep me and Oscar out of this.”

“
It’s too late,” my dad
says. “We already made our deal. If you two are married, Otto would
know for sure that I’d never tell. I wouldn’t say anything either
way, but with you in his family, Otto knows I would never
change my mind about going to the cops. And I’d
know you’d be safe.”

My father shuts his mouth, and I don’t open
mine. I listen to Mrs. Coley’s TV blaring downstairs. If I don’t
marry Oscar, it means that my father can’t be trusted. I’ve seen
enough movies to know what happens to someone who can’t be trusted.
I hear the air conditioning kick on, and before the air even gets a
chance to rush into the room, goose bumps climb up my arms.

“
Oscar wants to talk to me,”
I hear myself say. It’s like someone else is talking and I’m miles
away. I’m handing over my life in this moment, and I don’t even
feel like I’m actually there, doing it. What I say next is, “He
wants me to meet him for coffee, and I don’t know where, because I
broke my phone.”

My dad frowns, leans to one side in the
chair, and pulls his phone off his belt. He holds it out to me, and
I take it, meeting his sad gaze.

“
Look at this the right way,
Hale,” he says. “You can look at it good or you can look at it bad,
but since it’s got to be done, it’s best to look and see that you
can do it.”

CHAPTER
THREE

I’M NOT A GIRL WHO doesn’t know she’s
pretty, but I’m also not a girl that broadcasts it. I walk to the
coffee shop up the street and sit by the window to wait for Oscar.
I stare at my reflection in the glass. I know what I see, but I
wonder what Oscar sees when he looks at me. I wonder if it matters.
He’s got to realize how crazy this is, but his voice was so weirdly
calm on the phone, almost blank. That flips me out.

When Oscar pulls up, I am not sure it is him
right away. A million people have come and gone with cups of coffee
for carryout, so when Oscar finally pulls up and gets out of a
silver truck, I’m surprised that I can place his silhouette right
away. His shoulders are back, as he walks toward the front door of
the coffee shop, like he’s just making a coffee run, and not like
he’s coming to talk about our impending doom. When he steps out of
the shadows and through the door, his eyes are already on me.
Startled, I look away.

I’m all frightened and shaky inside, so I
take my hands off the table and wipe my palms on the napkin in my
lap. Oscar gives me a suave wink and a smile when he walks in, but
he buys himself a cup of coffee at the counter before walking over
and sliding into the seat across from mine.

“
Hi there,” he
says.

“
Hi,” I say, but what I
really want to say is;
you’re hot as
anything, but I still don’t want to marry you. This is your dad’s
fault. You’ve got a girlfriend, and I’d like to have a
life.

He leans back in the chair and removes the
lid on his coffee. He lays it on the table and moves it around
absently with one finger while he stares at it. It makes me
uneasy.

“
Did you know what was going
on when we were handing out the fliers?” he asks. He glances up to
see me nod slowly.

“
I thought my dad had just
been really drunk and got it all wrong.”

“
Do you know why this all
happened?” he asks.

“
No,” I say, remembering how
my dad was so reluctant to tell me. I think it’s smart to play
stupid, in case Oscar goes back and reports to his father. “Do
you?”

“
No,” he says, and I don’t
believe him at all. I think he knows as much, or more, than I do,
but he’s not willing to say anything either. My dark guesses sink
inside me. I think Oscar’s dad killed someone and that my dad saw
it.

I lean over my side of the table and whisper
to him, “I still don’t think that what they’re asking us to do is
right and I’m not going to do it. So, you don’t have to worry. You
just have to let your dad know that my dad can keep a secret.”

Oscar takes a drink of his coffee, keeping
his gaze square on me. The shiver down my spine isn’t attraction.
It’s pure anxiety, from what I see in his eyes. Resolve.

“
It’s not that easy,” he
says, as he puts the cup down. He hasn’t moved his eyes a
millimeter. He leans in and, suddenly, our faces are only inches
apart. The sandalwood and apple scent of him wafts up my nose and
calms me. If any one glanced over at us, I’m sure they’d think it
was just a couple whispering
I love
yous
across the table to each other. But if
they were sitting where I am, I’m sure anyone of them would shrivel
in their chair at how darkly serious Oscar’s eyes
appear.

“
You have a girlfriend.” I
whisper the nervous reminder. His eyes flick to my lips.

“
I need a wife,” he
says.

“
Then you should marry
Sophia,” I say. He stands and reaches for my hand.

“
Impossible,” he says. I
pull my hand away, staring up at him, tall and dark, with eyes that
would melt me if they were looking at me with desire, instead of
resolve. “Come with me.”

“
Where?”

“
We need to talk where it’s
more private.”

The third shiver of the night slips down my
spine. “I don’t even know you, Oscar. I’m not going anywhere.”

“
I’m not going to hurt you,
Hale,” he says, but he drops his hand, and the steel in his eyes
blows away like dust. What’s left is something sad that makes me
listen to him. “Don’t be afraid of me. I wasn’t expecting any of
this either.”

And that’s why murder victims go willingly,
I think. The sad eyes, the soft voice, the boy who seems to have
just as much to lose. I stand up, even though I still don’t take
the hand he offers me, and we go out the door to his truck.

#

“
Where do you want to go?” I
ask when he starts the engine. His knuckles are tight on the
wheel.

“
I don’t know,” he says.
“Maybe we can just drive. You still scared?”

“
Should I be?”

“
No,” he says. He pulls into
traffic. I look at the dash, the door, the window. I just don’t
look at him. I don’t know what to say to this stranger. We can’t
really talk about what’s happened without one of us revealing what
we really know, or really think about what’s going on. All I know
for positive is that it’s not going to be me.

We drive through the side streets, past my
street, and he keeps going. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t turn
on the radio. It gets really nerve wracking. It turns out, I’m the
one who can’t take it anymore. I break the silence after all.