Rubbed Out (30 page)

T
he police got to the warehouse first, followed by George, Bethany, and Phil. Or maybe the order was reversed. I can't remember. I don't know how much time elapsed before everyone came.

I spent it trying to keep Manuel warm and thinking about the time we'd gone to Mexico together and how I'd thought he'd be interested in the country and that it would be good for him to see his Hispanic roots. Instead he'd hated everything about Mexico except the tequila and couldn't wait to get back to Syracuse and his friends.

I'd wanted to expand his horizons and he'd been perfectly happy with them the way they were. As I hugged Manuel tighter, I noticed that I had Dirk Junior's blood on my sleeve. I turned and looked at him. He'd managed to crawl out of the hole and get about ten feet away before he'd gone into shock and collapsed.

George and Bethany got there just as the EMT guys were loading Manuel onto a stretcher.

“Oh, my God,” Bethany cried when she saw him. She would have thrown herself on the stretcher if George hadn't restrained her. “I want to go with him.”

“We'll meet them at the hospital,” George told her as Phil came toward us. “You won't be able to see him for a while anyway.”

Phil still looked crisp and polished after the long day he'd put in. He was the only one among us who did. I wondered how he managed to look that way as he pointed to the hole Manuel had been in.

“I'm betting they used that to cache the drugs they were selling. And I'm betting they have other hiding spots like this around the place.”

“Most likely,” I said, and I told him what Dirk Junior had told me about getting a piece of the Russians' drug trade.

Phil turned toward Dirk Junior, who was being wheeled out into a waiting ambulance. “The EMT guys think he's going to lose his foot,” he commented.

“He should lose more than that,” George said.

Phil grunted and turned back to me. “You okay?”

“As okay as the circumstances warrant.”

“You want to get checked out at the hospital first, or you want to talk?”

“Talk.”

George opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Phil said, “Why don't you and Bethany go to the hospital. Robin will meet you there.”

George nodded. Then he gave me a hug and kissed the top of my head.

“He really likes you,” Phil told me as George and Bethany walked away. “But you know that.”

“I guess I do.”

Phil rubbed his hands together. “Let's talk in my car. This place is colder than my refrigerator.”

I walked into Crouse's ER room an hour later. George was sitting in one of the seats in the waiting room. He was leaning forward. His hands were clasped and hanging down between his knees. He got up when he saw me and came over to where I was standing.

“Bethany's in with Manuel now.”

“How's he doing?”

“All right. Considering. He's tougher than I thought.”

Relief flooded through me, followed by a wave of tiredness. Suddenly I felt exhausted. The only thing I wanted to do was go home and go to bed. George headed for the doors that separated the waiting room from the treatment rooms. I followed him in.

“Listen,” he said when we were on the other side. “I know this is a really bad time for this, but there's something I have to ask you.”

“What?”

A nurse came by and we moved toward the wall. George licked his lips. I waited. I was so tired my bones ached.

“It's a simple question. All you have to do is answer yes or no.”

“Okay.”

I backed up against the wall for support and tried to keep awake.

Finally George said, “Do you love me?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“And that's your question?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell difference does that make?” I cried. Then I lowered my voice. “You're having a baby with someone else.”

“Just answer me. Please.”

“Why now?”

“Because I have to know.”

I was so angry I could hardly talk. I started to move away. I didn't want to be near George. For a second at the warehouse I'd forgotten about Natalie. Now it was all back.

“You just don't quit, do you? You really are a piece of work. You know what? You and Natalie deserve each other. I'm going to see Manuel, and then I'm going home.”

George caught hold of my arm.

“Let go of me,” I demanded.

His hand fell away.

“Robin. Please. I need to know.”

I looked up at him.

“Why?”

His face was impassive.

“Because I do. Just answer me. You owe me that much.”

“I don't owe you anything, and that's not an answer.”

“You have to trust me.”

“Yeah, right. That's a funny line coming from you.”

“I know I haven't acted well.”

“That's one way of putting it.”

George didn't reply. He swallowed and looked away. His shoulders slumped. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look at him anymore. It was too painful. It would be so much easier to lie and say, I hate you. Go to hell. And it wouldn't be a lie. I did hate him. But it wouldn't be the whole truth either.

I thought of all the games we'd been playing for what seemed like forever. I was tired of them. George and I were like hamsters on a wheel. We just went round and round in circles. It was time to get off. I opened my eyes.

“Okay,” I said. “I love you. More or less. Satisfied?”

“Very.” And he leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Manuel's in room twelve. I've got some business I have to take care of.” And he started walking away.

“What business?”

“I need to talk to Natalie.”

“About what?”

“Arrangements.”

“What do you mean, arrangements? Why do you always have to be so fucking cryptic?”

“Don't worry. I'll take care of everything.”

“Like what?”

But George hadn't heard me. He'd already gone through the doors.

What an asshole. But I realized I was smiling for the first time in a long time and I didn't know why.

I was walking toward Manuel's room when Calli came running toward me. Tears were streaming down her face. Dirk was behind her.

“They called me from the paper. Are they all right?”

“They?” I replied.

“Manuel and Dirk Junior.”

“I think they're both going to be okay,” I said slowly, looking from Dirk to Calli and back again. Somehow I had a feeling that the person who had called her hadn't told her the whole story.

Dirk patted Calli on the shoulder. “I'm going to see my son,” he told her and moved off down the corridor.

“His son is in serious trouble,” I told Calli.

Her hands went up to her mouth.

“What kind of trouble?”

“He tried to kill me, and he's involved in Manuel's kidnapping.”

She bit her lip. “He'd never do anything like that.”

“Well, he did.”

Calli looked at me in disbelief.

“He was going to shoot me.”

She groaned. “Poor Dirk. He really loves that kid.”

“That kid was going to shoot Manuel and rebury him.”

“No.”

“Yes. And by the way, he blames you for everything that's happened.”

“Me?” Calli yelped.

“You. According to him, if Dirk wasn't living with you and was taking care of Myra, none of this would have happened.”

“That's ridiculous,” she protested.

“I'm not saying it isn't. I'm just saying that's what he thinks.”

Calli's fingers pulled at the sheepskin piling edging her jacket. “I've tried to be nice to him. I've tried to get him to go back to school.” She shook her head.

“I've got to go see Manuel. He's in room twelve, in case you're interested. And by the way. Dirk Junior did steal Tiger Lily after all.”

Calli just looked at me. I felt really bad for her.

“I don't know what to do,” she whispered.

“Well, you know what my advice is.”

She absentmindedly unbuttoned her jacket.

“You have to talk to Dirk.”

“I do, don't I?”

“I think so.” And I went to check on Manuel.

W
hen spring arrives in Syracuse, people come out to greet it. After six months of snow and cold and clouds, we feel as if we've earned the green leaves and blue skies. It's like going from living in black and white to living in Technicolor.

It was the third week in April. I'd spotted my first robin yesterday. This morning, as I'd been drinking my coffee, I'd heard a flock of geese overhead. The last pile of snow on the shady side of the house was gone, and even though the lawns were still too soggy to rake, everyone on my block was out, picking up the trash left from the winter, washing windows and cars, or just puttering around.

I was standing on the front lawn of my house with Zsa Zsa, trying to admire the crocuses and the delicate yellow-green of the new leaves on the trees and not have an anxiety attack as I watched George and Manuel unload one of George's dressers off the U-Haul they'd parked in my driveway.

“I'm putting this one in our bedroom and the other one in the guest room,” George said as he and Manuel went by me.

“You're sure they'll fit?”

The dresser was one of those huge, dark mahogany Victorian pieces. I hate Victorian furniture. I always have. But since it came from George's grandmother, I couldn't say anything. I think this is what they mean by compromise.

“Remember. We measured them out,” George reminded me.

“Right.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled and silently repeated the mantra I'd been telling myself for the past months. “This living-together thing is going to work out fine. Once we get the furniture arranged. Once we get into a routine. Everyone has a period of adjustment.”

Of course, as Calli had pointed out, it would have been easier if George and I had just bought a house together and started fresh. But we hadn't. Mostly because with George's child support payments to Natalie, he couldn't afford to. I had a feeling those payments weren't going to last too long.

From what I could see, she was as domestic as a scorpion. From the way she was talking, I wouldn't be surprised to wake up one morning and find a basket with the baby on the doorstep—something else I was trying not to think about. I mean, what the hell do you do with something like that anyway? Teenagers, I could deal with. Dogs, I was good with. But babies? Just the thought of one gave me the heebie-jeebies.

I moved back a couple of inches to avoid getting banged in the leg with the dresser as Manuel came by me. He looked the way he had before his ordeal. It had taken a few months, but he was back to his old self. At least on the outside. Inside was a different matter. But I was hopeful that over time, those scars would fade as well. I was thinking it would be good if I could convince him to go talk to someone when John, my neighbor across the way, waved at me.

I waved back. He put down the rag he'd been polishing his car with and started across the street. I'd been wondering how long it would take him to come over and find out what was happening. But Bethany beat him. She suddenly appeared at my side dragging Tara, her golden retriever puppy, behind her on a leash.

“She just ate grass. What should I do?” she asked me.

She was wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. The pout she'd sported had disappeared, along with fifteen pounds. She'd cut her hair very short, and even though her mother and father had been horrified, I thought the style looked good on her.

“Not that it matters what we think,” her father had said to me, “now that she's living with you.”

I was trying to reconstruct how that had happened when she tugged at my sleeve and brought my mind back to the present.

“What should I do?” she repeated.

“Nothing. She'll puke it up. All puppies do that. Don't they?” I crooned at Tara.

I put my hand down and she gave it a lick, at which point Zsa Zsa growled. She wasn't fond of Tara, a fact that Tara couldn't comprehend. A true golden retriever, she believed that everyone loved her. Tara rolled over on her belly, then got back up and started attacking the bottom of Bethany's jeans. Bethany reached down and pried Tara off. The puppy was big for her age. Even though she was just four months old, she looked like six. She was definitely going to be a big girl.

“I was thinking we could take her to dog class,” Bethany said. She looked at George coming out of the house. “Unless you won't have time.”

“I'll make the time.”

“Because if you don't . . .”

“I will,” I said firmly.

“Just you and I.”

“Deal. Bethany, just because George is moving in doesn't mean that—”

“I know.” She looked at me as if I was an idiot. “And by the way, we should get a bigger hot-water heater. There's not going to be enough hot water for all of us.”

“I'll think about it.”

“And can we go see Tiger Lily later?”

“Maybe. We'll see how the moving goes.”

Bethany nodded. “Because I'm sure Tara would like to see her mom.” She paused for a minute. “I'm glad that guy Dirk left.”

“Me too.”

“Calli isn't.”

“She'll get over it.”

Bethany wrinkled her nose. “Why did she hook up with someone like that?”

“I think you have to be older to understand.”

She rolled her eyes. “God,” she said. “You sound just like my mother.” And she ran off with Tara leading the way.

I was thinking how complicated my life had gotten when John materialized next to me. He leaned over and gave me a poke in the ribs with his elbow.

“You getting some new furniture?” he asked. “Or is someone moving in?”

“Can't stand not knowing something, can you?”

He grinned. “You're damned right I can't.”

“Someone's moving in.”

John rocked back on his heels and adjusted the brim of his baseball hat. “The black guy?”

“Yup.”

John smiled. “He play golf?”

“Yes.”

“Is he any good?”

“Very.”

At that moment, Manuel and George came out of the house. John moved toward them.

“Can I give you guys a hand?”

They started chatting, but I wasn't listening.

Who knew? Maybe everything would work out. Maybe George and I would live happily ever after.

If we could just figure out how to fit all his stuff in my house.