Spring Rain (38 page)

“What are you doing by yourself in the kitchen?” Clay asked. “Waiting up for us?”

Waiting up for Mom. Not
us.
“Getting something to eat.”

“My mother didn’t fill you up while you watched TV?” Clay whistled. “She’s really losing her touch.”

The door of the apartment flew open, and Mom ran out.

“Mom!” Bill called, instantly concerned.

“Leigh!” Clay called.

“Clay,” she called. “Clay!” Not Bill. Clay. Wouldn’t you know.

Clay and Bill both ran outside and met her. Clay grabbed her by both arms, automatically, unintentionally blocking Bill. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s the matter, Mom?” She reached out a hand and rested it on his head, lightly brushing at his hair, but she kept looking at Clay like he’d solve all her problems.

“Molino. On the phone.” Her teeth were chattering. Nerves. Bill’s nerves weren’t too steady at the news either, but he made himself look strong for her.

Clay put his arm around her and hugged her. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.”

Sweetheart? Puh-lease! “It’s okay, Mom.” Bill grabbed her free hand and held it tightly.

Clay led her up the steps to the house, and Bill trailed along, still holding her hand. “Come on,” Clay said. “We’ll call Greg Barnes right away.” He held the door for her, stepping back so she could go first.

How polite, Bill thought as he was forced to release her hand so she could go forward. Bill followed close behind Clay and was shocked when Clay let the door fall shut right in his face.

Standing outside staring in, Bill watched his father fuss over his mother. They weren’t acting lovey-dovey in a kissy way, but he knew lovey-dovey when he saw it, no matter its form.

And I’m on the outside.
His chest hurt in the region of his heart.
There’s a screen between me and them, and I don’t like it one bit.

Even when Mom saw him staring in and held out her hand to him, even when Clay reached out and ruffled his hair as he walked to her, he felt like the screen was still there.

W
ORM STOOD ON
the beach and looked over at Atlantic City. He smiled, which was no easy thing with the pounding head he had. Too much booze and grass. Too little sleep.

But it was worth every painful moment. He had been king of the hill for three whole days, staying at the Trump Taj Mahal, winning and losing, then winning and losing again. When he had the treasure, that high living would be his regular life.

He hadn’t planned on going to AC, but one night standing on the beach with the squirrelly ocean licking at his shoes, he knew he just had to go. The Whartons weren’t going anywhere, and he deserved a bit of fun after all those years in jail.

Hitchhiking there had been easy. So had acquiring a stake. Little old ladies and their purses were meant for sharp guys like him. AC was full of little old ladies, and a lot of them liked to walk to automatic teller machines. Follow them for a couple of blocks after they left, and when no one was near, grab and run.

He didn’t get caught because he had a disguise—a blond wig and mustache. He always ran around a corner fast, pulled it off, and stuffed it in his pants. Even Johnny would be impressed if he knew, but he didn’t think you knew things like this in hell. Wasn’t that part of the whole idea?

Most of the ladies he robbed didn’t have much money, but one lady had one thousand dollars in crisp fifties in her purse. He wasn’t sure where it came from because those ATM machines wouldn’t give you that much, but he wasn’t complaining. In fact, he felt like he ought to run back and kiss her, but she was lying in the middle of the sidewalk sobbing when he turned his corner, so he guessed he wouldn’t.

With twelve hundred dollars total he took on the casinos. He loved the one-armed bandits. With those guys you could play all night and still have money left over. One night he won a jackpot, and tokens poured out until they overflowed the tray and spilled on the floor. A lady who wasn’t exactly young or pretty was so excited for him that she gave him a hug. She stayed with him in his room at the Taj Mahal where they slept all day and partied all night.

He only had two hundred left now, and he was back in Seaside to get the rest. Sugar was waiting for him back in AC. She’d promised. He grinned. When he was rich, really rich, he’d trade her in for a better model, but she’d do for now. She only called him stupid once, and that was when he tried to pour some champagne into her mouth straight from the bottle, and she was laughing as it splashed all over her face.

“Ernie! Don’t!” She laughed so hard she almost choked. “You’re being stupid! We don’t want to waste the stuff, now do we?”

“Making you laugh ain’t no waste, Sugar.”

Saying stupid like that was okay. It was even fun.

Look, Ma. I got me a girl, and I’m having fun!

A wave with more punch than its predecessors broke over his feet, wrecking his daydream, and wetting him clear to his ankles. He shrieked as salt water sloshed in his shoes. He turned and ran until he was in the dry sand where the rising tide couldn’t get him. Stinkin’ ocean, trying to eat him. He couldn’t wait to leave here! At least in AC you had the boardwalk to protect you.

He squished through the dunes to the Wharton house to see if Leigh-Leigh was home yet. With every step his head threatened to explode, but he knew you couldn’t drink when you were doing business. Booze made you sloppy, Johnny said.

He lay down on a dune, thinking about how much he missed Johnny. Slime, but a wonderful friend. Johnny would have liked
Sugar. He squinted and thought about that for a minute. Yeah, it was probably a good thing Johnny was dead.

Worm lay on his back and looked at the stars. Why did they stay up there? Were they there when the sun was out? Were they really hot like people said, or was that just another story like the one about that big snake thing that lived in that lake someplace far away?

Who cared? He fell asleep. The sound of that giant Jeep woke him up.

He rolled onto his stomach and watched Leigh-Leigh and the brother, Modeling Clay, get out of the car. He liked that car. It was big, but he wondered why anyone called that thing a Jeep. He’d seen enough war movies to know what a Jeep looked like. He guessed you could probably paint one a different color than puke army green, but how did they pump it up like that? When he had the treasure, he was getting a Cadillac. That was a classy car.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed. Leigh-Leigh was saying good night to Modeling Clay. It looked to him like Modeling Clay didn’t want to leave, and she wanted him to.

Hey, Modeling Clay, I know what you’re going through. The story of my life until Sugar.

Yeah, it was good Johnny was dead.

Leigh-Leigh’s phone rang, and she shut the door in Modeling Clay’s face to run and answer it. Worm grinned.

“Hello?” Leigh-Leigh said, real pleasantlike. What was she doing answering the phone so nice in the middle of the night? Didn’t Johnny teach her nothing?

“Hello, Leigh-Leigh. Missed me?”

There was a gasp that warmed his heart. Keep her scared and she’d cooperate.

“Mr. Molino,” she said. Worm almost dropped the phone. “Leave me alone, please.”

How did she know who he was? He was invisible, like those Special Forces guys who sliced everybody’s throats. Maybe he ought to slice her throat.

“Mr. Molino, are you still there?” She sounded mad.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he said, trying to sound mean. He sounded more scared, like he did when Stanley grabbed him. He looked all around to see if someone was watching
him. Somebody had to be, or they wouldn’t know who he was.

Suddenly the dunes were spooky. They were full of places where people could hide. It dawned on him how stupid he’d been. If he could hide here, so could other people. Were there cops behind that dune? Or maybe Modeling Clay himself?

He forced himself to turn back to the yard. Modeling Clay was going in the kitchen door. But the cops could still be out here with him. His skin started jumping.

“I want that treasure,” he said. “Sunday and no later, or you’ll be sorry.”

“There is no treasure, and if you touch my son again, I’ll wring your neck myself.”

“I never touched your kid!” Did she think he was that kind of man that he’d lay a hand on a kid? “Sunday!” And he hung up.

Now he had to get off the beach before the shadows grabbed him.

S
ATURDAY AFTERNOON
, Ted stepped onto the back porch and inhaled deeply. He held the breath as long as he could in his clear lungs, then exhaled slowly and with great pleasure. The briny air smelled delicious, wonderful, intoxicating. He had never expected to smell it again when that pneumonia had taken hold. He’d really thought it was the beginning of the very end.

But miracle of miracles, he was feeling better. Not only were all David’s “crackles” gone and his mind more alert, but he was also going to the beach. He couldn’t stop smiling. He also couldn’t stop shivering.

“Are you cold?” Bill asked in disbelief, eyeing Ted’s down jacket.

Ted stared at the boy in his Phillies sweatshirt. “Aren’t you?”

Bill blinked. “It’s warm today. It’s sixty-five degrees!”

“I don’t have any body fat left.” Ted smiled as Leigh draped a blanket over his shoulders. “No insulation.”

“Get Ted that lounge chair from the garage, will you, Bill?” Leigh had a second blanket draped over her shoulder.

Ted pointed to it. “That for me too?”

She smiled. “If you need it.”

Ted moved slowly as he went down the steps and
crossed the yard. When he reached his mother’s bench by the path through the dunes, he sat. He was breathing heavily but without distress.

“I can’t believe I’m out of breath that fast!”

“You haven’t done anything physically taxing for several weeks, and you were one sick puppy just a day ago.” Leigh patted him encouragingly on the shoulder.

“Hey, don’t leave without me.” Clay took the back steps in one leap and joined them at the bench, Terror trotting behind.

A loud crash brought heads around to stare at the garage and Bill.

“Stupid chair,” he muttered as he picked it up from the floor. “Bumped into the door jamb.”

“All by itself?” Leigh asked, grinning.

Bill stuck his nose in the air. “Well, I certainly didn’t tell it to knock itself silly.”

Laughing, Leigh walked to him. “Here. You take the blanket. I’ll take the chaise.”

“No, let me.” Clay started forward.

“Always trying to impress the ladies.” Ted grinned, rose, and took a step. To his distress, his legs had all the strength of cooked spaghetti. “Forget the chair, Clay. I think you’d better take me.”

Clay grabbed Ted’s arm, and they moved slowly through the dunes. Leigh followed with the chaise, and Bill danced beside them, Terror grabbing at the end of the blanket as it trailed in the sand.

“Here, boy.” Bill grabbed the dog and set him on a trailing length of blanket. “Sit. Stay.”

Terror looked at Bill, head cocked uncertainly, but he sat.

“He doesn’t quite trust you,” Ted said.

“Sure, he does. Don’t you, boy?” Bill pulled the blanket slowly. When it began to move, taking him with it, Terror immediately stood.

“Don’t jump off,” Bill ordered. “Sit.” Bill waited until the dog did so. Then he began pulling the blanket slowly again. Terror looked uncertain, but he remained still. When he realized he was moving but safe, he looked up at his audience with a broad canine grin.

“He’ll never want to walk again,” Clay said.

With great fanfare, Leigh set up the chaise, and Ted sank gratefully into it. He lay back, eyes closed, and gave a deep sigh. How wonderful to feel the sun on his face and the ocean breeze in his hair, to listen to the low music of the softly purling sea and the gentle slap of the waves breaking against the jetty.

When he opened his eyes after a few minutes of sensory delight, he saw that Clay, Leigh, and Bill were walking down the beach away from him.

Abandoning me already?
He opened his mouth to call the trio back when he realized that he normally would have fallen asleep after the exertion of walking to the beach. But he wasn’t tired. He was filled with energy and enthusiasm and excitement.

It was a miracle, a real straight-from-God miracle, how much better he felt today, even better than yesterday when he was declared free of the pneumonia. His blood sang through his veins, and his spirits soared higher than the squawking gulls.

He watched as Clay reached for Leigh’s hand, and she turned to him with a smile. Ted smiled too. Good old Clay seemed to be doing pretty well for himself.

Good old Clay? Ted frowned. Where had that come from? A large dollop of his euphoria dissipated, replaced by a general unease. How did he feel about Clay since the big confession scene? Certainly he loved and appreciated his twin, but what about all that resentment he’d felt toward Clay for so long? What was he to do with it if Clay was no longer a jerk?

“Hey, Ted. How’re you doing, man?”

Ted turned and found Clooney and his metal detector standing beside him. Today a piece of red yarn tied the man’s ponytail, and he wore a large diamond stud in his ear.

Ted stared, fascinated. “Did you find that earring in the sand, or did you have to buy it?”

“You think I’d spend money for something like this when I can get it for free?” Clooney fingered the shining jewel. “I found this about three years ago.”

“So the detecting business is going well, I see.”

“It’s sure more fun than driving the garbage truck.”

“Still doing that, huh? I always thought you’d get yourself to community college and go into computers or something.”

Clooney shrugged. “Too much work. This way I have a regular
income and lots of free time to do what I really like.”

“Found any more bombs recently?”

“Found a gold Rolex last week.”

Ted blinked. “The genuine article?”

Clooney held out his arm for Ted to examine the slim gold watch that peeked out from beneath a ratty sweatshirt cuff.