Tap Out (30 page)

I hear the fight before I see it. “You never cared about me, were just worried that I'd have your baby. Didn't want to be stuck in the trailer!”

I round the corner and Amy's slouched, stumbling, but squared up with Rob. He's standing by the doorway, stiff like a mannequin, as if she's screaming at someone else.

Amy lurches. “Ha! Fool's on you. I never liked your little cock anyway.” She turns to the crowd that's gathered and wiggles her pinkie. “That's it, ladies. That's all
big
Rob's packing.” She laughs and snorts and some of the crowd laughs along while others pop out cells to record her. Rob stays still. I join the swell.

“Oh, look, here's the man himself, Antioch.” Amy holds up her hands as if presenting me on some runway or art show. “You here to save your boy? Help him outta this hole? Jus' like you're doing with Jensen?”

My muscles tense and I search the crowd. Dave isn't here, but that doesn't mean someone else isn't listening.

“What, you think I'm stupid?” Amy pushes me and her breath is heavy with alcohol. I don't say anything, and she
shoves me again before turning to Rob.

“You both think I'm stupid. That I didn't hear what you were sayin'.”

Rob's eyes are dead, just like mine feel. Someone's gotta shut her up before she goes too far. There's more at stake than she can possibly comprehend. It's just not safe for her to talk about this shit out loud. I shift my weight to the balls of my feet. I hope Big O shows up first.

Amy sways, mumbling to herself. A half circle has formed around her and I can feel the other half behind me. She snaps up, looks around. “You all here for the show, huh? Well, you should come to my house sometime. See
that
show. Fucking Charity and her shit.” Amy's eyes pop wide. “Any of you even remember Charity?” No one answers. “Well, she's a used-up bitch now. Any of you want her, stop by.”

Someone laughs and Amy joins in. It's a disgusting sight. She's everything about the park standing amidst everyone who hates us. She has no fucking clue that they're laughing at her, not with her. Or maybe she does and just doesn't care. I don't know which is worse. I feel sorry for her because this isn't who she is. Just like Charity, something bad happened, and watching the wounds heal isn't pretty.

I check Rob and his face is a mask, no doubt feeling like I do, but covering it up better. I try to mirror him.

Amy straightens again. “But like I was saying,” she looks at me, “you and your fuck buddy think I don't know. But I know.” She points at her chest. “Those bikers got you. Don't they?” She steps closer and kids twist trying to figure her the fuck out. She can't do this, can't keep spilling, because if someone puts two and two together . . .

Amy stands about three feet from me. “You know what they did to Char, right? Fucked her morning, noon, and
night. Everywhere.” She sways while she stares me down. “And now you're gonna deal for them? You piece of fucking trailer trash shit. Might as well let yer mom's boyfriend go ahead and stick it in your ass.”

I don't even think, I just plant my left foot, dip down, and whip my leg into the back of Amy's. She collapses back, eyes wide with shock, and slams to the floor. Her head hits first and her eyes immediately roll back. Then she's still, just a heap. The crowd goes dead silent and I look at Rob. His face is flat, but the tension has dropped.

Someone yells, “No shit?” and the clapping and laughter rise up. Through the crowd Big O emerges. He sees Amy and moves to her side, bending down.

“What happened?” He looks up in the vague direction of the crowd. No one answers, so I do.

“She passed out, I think. Smacked her head.” I feel a mixture of relief and guilt. I can't believe I just did that, but I had to. I had no choice. Right?

Big O checks to see that she's still breathing and sees the bottle next to her. He twists the cap, sniffs, and then shakes his head. He grabs the walkie-talkie at his hip. “I need the nurse at the main entrance. Bring the wheelchair.” He looks up at all of us. “Back to class or lunch or wherever you were going.” No one moves. Big O's face turns red. “Go!”

I stay rooted in place while kids pass saying, “Nice job.” “Sweet kick.” “Shoulda blasted her nose.” I wait until they're gone and cross over to Rob. We watch the nurse try to bring Amy around with smelling salts, but she only swats at the scent. Big O and the nurse pick her up and plop her into the wheelchair and the nurse wheels her away. Big O sighs and looks at us.

“Gentlemen.” It feels like a question, but we don't say
anything. He walks away. Rob clears his throat.

“That was fucked up, Tone.”

“I know, but you heard what she was saying. Last thing we need is Dave to hear.”

“Last thing we need is any trouble.” He cuts me off and stares me down. “Besides,
you
just took out a
girl
. What kind of shit is that?”

I know he's right, that what I did was fucked up. But still. “Someone needed to.”

“Remember, I got something going for me now. And I've got enough problems already. I don't need any more.”

If you only knew.
I hate the thought, but it's true. “I fucking get it, all right? That's what I was trying to save you from.” My head swells. He has no clue. No idea that I'm in just as deep as him. For all the good that he is, he can be one self-centered fuck. “Don't think I'm not looking out for you. Why you didn't wrap it up is beyond me, but don't stand there reminding me what you got on the line. I'm standing there with you.”

Rob nods but doesn't say anything. We wait for the bus without another word.

W
e don't say shit to each other on the ride to Vo-Tec, while Greyson has us hook up the plow to his truck, nor on the ride home. But when we near my trailer Rob clears his throat. “So I'll swing by later? Practice?”

It's unbelievable that this is all I wanted to hear last night. That I thought him returning would set things right again. But between then and now, everything's fucking upside down. “Yeah. I'll see you at six.”

He takes off and as I watch his back. I know that I have to tell him about what Cam said and about what's what with Dave, but I'll fill him in later. I head inside.

The house smells like something familiar, but so distant that the connection isn't clear. It's a fruity scent, like nail polish remover. I step into the living room, and Mom emerges from the bathroom, sees me sniffing, and smiles. The wires have been removed, and her face looks healed.

“You like? It's this new air freshener I picked up.” She walks over to the outlet at the threshold from kitchen to living room, points at the thing plugged in there. We stare at it, and a fine mist shoots into the air. “Ya see, it does that, like every few minutes.”

“Great,” I say and notice the spray cleaner and towel in
her hand. “What's up with you?”

“Just a little cleaning. The holidays are coming, and I'd like the place to look good.” She puts her hands on her hips and takes in the space. The house is in order, and I like it, but it's disturbing. First, she never cleans. Period. It's like she never learned how. Second, we don't have company. Ever. So cleaning for
them
makes no sense. Third, why not get some Christmas lights or a tree if she's feeling festive? Fuck, I know she's not buying presents.

Mom shifts her gaze from the kitchen counter to me and stares like I'm the next item on her list. I kick off my shoes and set them on the new mat by the door, in case that's the issue, but she's still watching me.

“What?” My voice cracks.

She tilts her head. “Nuthin'. It's just . . .” She closes her eyes and shakes her head.

I clear my throat and try again. “Mom, what is it?”

She keeps her eyes closed and presses her lips into a line, as if waiting for pain to pass. I don't know why I care, why it bothers me to see this after all the shit she's put me through, but I'm concerned. Something's up, and if I've learned anything, I understand that if the shit hits the fan in her life, a fucking chunk is going to splatter on me. I step to her, take the spray bottle and towel from her hands and set them on the counter.

She starts crying and then covers her eyes with one hand, tilts her head back as if she's trying to keep the tears from falling.

“Just tell me,” I say, even though I'm not positive I want to hear it.

She wipes with the edge of her hand and takes a deep breath, still looking up and away from me. “It's my fault and I feel stupid.”

I don't say anything.

She smiles through the tears and looks at me. “All grown up, huh? Almost eighteen? When the hell did
that
happen?”

She pats my cheek and I jump. I can't remember the last time she's touched me. “Mom, what's up?”

Her smile fades but she laughs and wipes away another band of tears. Then she pins me with her glare. “I know. I know what you're up to, with Cam and the Front. I know you're in on the deal.”

I don't know if I feel more embarrassment or shock. I look away.

“I don't know how you got tangled up in this.” She sighs. “I mean, you always seemed to keep away from that shit. Kept to yourself and all. But . . .”

She doesn't finish, but I wait. I want her to continue. I need to know where she's headed with this. Because this may be advice, which she's never given. Or maybe she's worried, because she knows more than I do. Even more likely is that Cameron is using this fact to hold over her. For what, I don't even want to imagine.

She watches me and purses her lips. Her eyes cloud and her mouth moves silently. I wait. She has not been the best mother, but she has been through more than most. I can give her a moment.

“I need you to help me.”

I nod and grunt, hoping that will nudge her on.

She cracks, her chest falling, and she reaches for the counter to steady herself. I don't ask what's wrong, don't offer any help. I've seen this show before. “I need you to help me.” She pauses and sets her eyes on me. They are the fierce gems
I remember as a child, when she fought my father, the one person I knew was evil. This is no show. My breath catches.

“I need you to help me get rid of Cameron.”

The request lies between us like a corpse and neither of us speaks. I swallow. “What do you mean?”

Mom straightens. “However you can. I just
need
him gone.” Those jeweled eyes glint. “Can you do this for me?”

She's taken two steps forward, and I want to ask why, how, but don't need to. It doesn't matter. If her reasons are different from my own, so what? He'll still be gone. All I can say is, “When?”

A hint of a smile crosses her cheek, and it's as if she's zipped up the body bag. “You have some time together in a few days. A lot could happen then. Could go wrong.”

I nod and run my tongue along my bottom teeth. “True.” I won't say any more.

She eases back, resting her hands on her hips and sniffs the air. “You smell that? It just sprayed again.”

“You doing anything for Christmas?” Rob might as well be speaking to the air in front of us.

“The fuck?”

He laughs. “Sorry. I just needed to say something. You know, after everything.”

I do, but it's still a fucked-up question. “How about, ‘Thanks for keeping Amy from getting us killed'?”

Rob frowns and tucks into himself. “You know she didn't mean to.”

I shake my head because I don't know what the fuck I know anymore. “Anyway, I doubt she'll remember.”

“Yeah.” Rob steps from the sidewalk and we cross the street. “Shit musta gone down with Char or something for her to be like that.”

He's right, Amy can handle her liquor. “Char isn't her problem though.”

“She is until something changes.”

Fuck, why's he have to say shit like that, always taking the high road. “You going to support them with all your money from training?”

Rob laughs. “Don't think so, but I might kick 'em a little of what I get from this deal.”

Fuck, he's pathetic. Or nice. I can't tell the difference anymore. Damn that's sad. “Aren't you two finished? After that shit, has to be the last straw.”

Rob nods but doesn't say anything.

“The fuck, man? That's why Big O is hooking you up, so you can move on.” Even as I say it, I know I shouldn't have. I can't keep lying.