Ten Mile River (14 page)

On the subway home José said, ‘Somethin happened to you in that juvie run.'

Ray had been sucked into a book called
A Brief
History of Time
. It said the universe started out smaller than an atom. By the time it finished expanding, one atom would be bigger than the present-day universe. ‘I grew.'

‘I don't think so,' José said. ‘But you
look
like you grew.' José winked, chicked his cheek, Breon Junior. ‘You beat up half the high school there, Ray. You might just be a badass.'

‘I wanna be a goodass.'

‘Ass ass.'

‘Tryin a read, man. Hush.' Ray flipped the page.

‘Tellin me to hush. Yo? Fine, be that way, geek.' José sighed, took out his motorcycle magazine, all pictures, bit off from the bar of chewing tobacco Breon had given him. ‘I'd cut both my arms off to hold Trini's hand again.'

The book said time travel was real. You could travel to the future but not to the past. Too bad. Ray wanted to go back to the day he introduced Trini to José, redo it. Undo it.

That night came a knock on the stationhouse door. All hell broke loose with the dogs. The boys grabbed their baseball bats. ‘We're armed,' José yelled.

The door opened, Trini came in. The dogs remembered her. She hugged and settled the pack, put a strand of hair into her mouth, chewed it as she looked at José. She went to him, buried her head in his neck, hid there. He put his arms around her.

Ray left, wondering how many minutes would pass before they would realise he'd gone.

19

Breon took them to a crowded Starbucks after end-of-shift, bought the boys more than they could eat, told them to save a seat for him at the window, he had to hit the ‘canny.'

Ray had begun wearing a spoon on a chain around his neck. He balanced the spoon crossways on his finger and stared at it.

‘Damn spoon bendin,' José said.

‘I'm
so
close to bendin it.'

‘Ray, I'll be a respectable citizen before you bend any dag spoon.' José grabbed the spoon, stuffed it into the trash. ‘Freak. Now where's my boy Breon at? I don't want to be here, rich losers swillin fancy drinks they can't pronounce, small coffee runs on the tag
tall
in this joint, psh. What's wrong wif Micky D's?'

Ray pulled his spoon from the trash.

‘The dollar menu? Show me better value than the dollar menu, try to. Five bucks a damn cup a joe. That's like four chicken chimichangas and a fry.'

‘But Starbucks got good cookies.'

José sighed. ‘They do, though. Their cookies are fierce. Here he is.'

Breon came out of the bathroom. On his way to the window counter he grabbed a souped-up laptop from a table where some guy was way into a conversation on his mobile, his head turned to stare at the butt of the chick who had come out from behind the counter to sweep dust into her dustpan. Breon folded the laptop, tucked it under his arm, casually walked across Starbucks, slipped the laptop into Ray's knapsack. He even sat down and sipped his coffee.

‘Hell'd you just do there, Breon?' Ray said.

‘I think yous know what I just did. Right there in my little brother Ray's bag is a five-day trip to Disney World.' Breon winked. ‘We've got ourselves about thirty seconds before pretty boy there figures out his laptop is gone. I'm tinkin we should probably leave. I'll go out the side door, yous go out the front. Nice and easy now, loved ones. Meet yas at the car.'

‘Breon, take that damn laptop out of my bag and give it back to…'

Breon was already on his way out.

‘Dag,' Ray said. ‘Should I give it back?'

‘Too late for that. The mark's lookin all around now.'

‘He's panicked, J-man. Look at him.'

‘Don't look at him,' José said. ‘Let's go. Yawn and walk real slow and scratch your head with one hand and your butt with the other, like you got nowheres to rush to. Make like me.'

Outside they started over to Breon's car, stopped when they saw a cop talking to Breon, pointing to Breon's registration sticker. ‘Expired,' the cop said.

Breon shook his head, grinned. ‘Bless me for a dullard, I forgot.' He eyed the cop's cruiser. ‘Say, you're in the Two Four, are ya? Do you know Eamon Lafferty?' ‘Not well enough for you to talk your way out of a two-hundred-dollar ticket. See some ID?'

‘Positively, Officer.' Breon pretended he didn't know the boys as they walked past the car to the uptown subway entrance.

José whispered, ‘Bet he talks himself out of the fine.'

‘My goddam knees are shakin. Gotta get this laptop out of my knapsack.'

In the safety of the stationhouse the boys stared at the stolen computer. José rubbed his nose. ‘I don't see why folks spend six grand on a piece of plastic. Anyway, praise Jesus they do.' José grabbed the laptop, headed for the door.

‘Hell you doin?' Ray grabbed the laptop.

‘Hell
you
doin? Gimme that thing. Frankie the Fence gonna open his night hours in twenty minutes, I wanna be first at the window, save me from hangin in line with all them jonesin crackheads. Ray, you're not seriously thinkin what I think you're thinkin?'

‘Yup.'

‘You're not givin it back.'

‘Yup. Gonna mail it.'

‘Kid, a man's gotta eat.'

‘The guy's life is on here. His social, address, letters to his gal, his
ideas
.'

‘Ray-Ray, I'm your bud. It's my goddam duty to tell ya you're bein a asshole. Now, here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna swing that thing, we're gonna split the bread with Breon.'

‘No you're not. I promised Trini.'

‘That's your problem. I didn't promise her nothin. Woman loves me as I am.'

‘You know she wants you to go clean, though. You
know
she does.'

‘Ray, you see my face, right?'

‘Yup.'

‘You see I'm gettin serious mad, right?'

‘Yup.'

‘Can you say any goddam thing but yup?'

‘Nope.'

‘Ray, we can fence that thing for big money
because
the guy's personal information is on it. Look,
I'm
gonna do it. Alone. Your word with Trini still be good, man. You didn't steal it. You don't gotta be involved.'

‘I'm involved.'

‘You're holdin my Ninja in your hand there. You're holdin two years' supply of dog food, how's that? Ray, gimme it!'

Ray jumped to the far side of the couch, José following, the boys circling.

‘Look, man, I seen it on TV that
everybody
's gonna get their ID swiped at some point,' José said.

‘Then let somebody else swipe it. We pitch that guy's life away on a stupid motorcycle and that's the beginnin of a forever badness. Leakin out that guy's soul to the world, man?'

‘He's some rich-ass, Starbucks-swillin inheritor punk. He can afford it. He'll pay a lawyer to make things right. He'll prob'ly even figure out a way to
make
money off losin his ID. They all do, them rich folks. We're just evenin things out a little—'

‘No we're not. Not today.'

‘Goddammit, Ray.'

‘I ain't puttin somethin that oily into motion, that guy's self gettin passed around and used in ten thousand online crimes. Only losers would do a forever lame thing. What you always told me? A good thief is hit and run, over and done.'

‘I did tell you that, I know. I like the way it rhymed good. Christ Jesus, where you goin with that thing now?'

‘The river.'

‘You are not pitchin that machine into the mud-fucked Hudson. You are not. Hey!'

Ray ran out of the house, José after him, the dogs after José. At the riverside the dogs tripped Ray to play with him. He got up, coiled himself like a discus thrower, got the laptop off just as José tackled him…

Plunk
.

‘You fool! Man, Ray. Man!'

Huffing and puffing, the Fatty dog caught up with the pack, sat sideways next to José, looked at the J-man from the side of his eyes.

‘You now.' José looked out to where Ray had pitched the laptop. ‘This friendship is gettin costly.'

They were drinking soup out of cans when the knock on the door came like a song, ‘Danny Boy.'

‘Uh-oh.'

‘Yup.' José got the door. ‘You talked your way out of it, right?'

Breon showed José the ticket, no fine, just a warning. He gave José a six-pack of Bud. ‘Took me half an hour to cozy the cop, and then the traffic, New York, New York, it's a helluva town, sorry I took so long.'

‘Now how in hell did you figure where we live?' Ray said.

‘All those times I drop yas off, yas never invite me up for a cup o' tay? Sure, I was a little hurt, a lot suspicious. Last time I dropped yas at the building there, I parked around the corner there, followed yas here. Is a man a man if he cares not where his brothers live?' Breon surveyed the rundown stationhouse from the door. He chuckled at the gigantic TV amidst the street-found furniture, smiled sadly as he took in the rest of the shabby house. ‘Ah, poor kids. Now I see why yas didn't want me to see where yas lived. Have you no parents?'

They shrugged. ‘Who needs 'em?' José said.

Right about now,
we
need 'em
, Ray almost said.

‘Boys, boys, brother Breon is gonna have you fellas out of here and livin the high life, don't you worry about it.' Breon winked. ‘So, let's see our pretty little machine.'

‘Yeah, well, see, um, it's gone,' José said. ‘Genius Ray here's gonna tell you all about it. Go 'head, genius Ray. All yours.'

Breon scrunched his face, but he was still smiling, forever smiling. ‘What's this now?'

‘C'mon in, Breon.' José held the door wide for Breon.

Breon stepped over the threshold, grabbed himself a tallboy from the six he'd given José, cracked it, leaned back on the wall, cocked his head. ‘So?'

‘I pitched it.'

Breon laughed. He had a great laugh, loud, real, like José's. ‘No you didn't.'

Ray pouted. ‘I had to.'

‘
Had
to? You
had
to pitch the machine I risked jail time for? That machine?'

The boys didn't say anything.

Breon plopped down onto the couch, folded his hands behind his head, propped his feet up on the Fatty dog. Fatty looked out the side of his eyes to see the thing that had put its feet on him.

‘Please, man,' Ray said. ‘Take your feet off the dog, man. He's old. He's half-blind, man. He gets nervous.'

‘I think you are scarin old Fatty a little there, Breon,' José said. ‘I mean, I do it to the stupid summabitch all the time, but—'

‘Ray,' Breon said, ‘if you really did toss it, then I suppose you owe me a machine now. That one happened to run about six tousand dollars.' He winked and smiled that super-cool smile.

‘Breon,' José said. ‘Look, he's sorry.'

‘No I ain't,' Ray said. ‘This ain't right.'

‘This is a serious matter, Ray. This is grave. See, here's the problem.' Breon whipped out a butterfly knife and whittled the landscaping dirt out of his fingernails. ‘I kind of don't believe you're tat stupid to trow away a laptop. I tink you're holdin out on me, after all those lunches I bought you, the cigs—'

‘You got us the lunch and cigs on your own,' Ray said. His voice was louder than he expected.

‘Easy, Ray,' José said. ‘We're all pals here.'

‘We didn't ask for none of that stuff.'

‘But you took it, didn't you?' Breon sipped his beer.

‘We didn't ask you to steal no laptop either.'

‘Ray, chill,' José said.

Breon shifted his feet on Fatty's head. Fatty shivered under the weight of Breon's steel-plate combat boots.

‘Get your goddam feet off my dog.'

Breon's eyes flashed for a second, but his smile never left him. ‘That's some unfriendly talk there, Ray.' He whittled away at his thumbnail and whistled. ‘Ray, be a good boy and get me the laptop. I'm countin to ten—'

‘And I'm countin to five.' Ray exploded, tears from nowhere. ‘Five, four—'

‘One, two—'

‘Three,' both said.

‘
Chill
, Ray,' José said. ‘Yo, Breon. It's gone. For real. We trashed it.'

‘
We
now, is it?'

Fatty whimpered.

‘Breon,' Ray said. ‘You're
hurtin
him.'

‘We'll get you another laptop, B,' José said. ‘Serious. We have it to you by tomorrow, word is bond. Me and my moron brother here. Lemme show you my Grand Theft skills, man. We play getaway partners, make Ray the cop, kick his ass.'

‘You're a cutie, José, but here's another lesson for ya: Ya can't charm a charmer. Get. Me. My. Laptop.'

The Fatty dog yelped.

Ray pulled at Breon's leg.

Breon was up fast, the knife twinkling as it whirled in his hand. He whipped his arm so fast Ray didn't see the knife sweep his chest, but he felt it.

Ray looked down at his T-shirt, cut in the baggy part under the chest, at the ribs. He parted the rip. His skin was clean.

‘Ray, I'm fond of ya. I am. But next time, I have to nick you, see? Get my computer, or I'll stab your dog, your José, and then you.' He winked.

‘Breon.'

Breon and Ray turned to José.

José reached into the toaster oven, pulled out a gun. ‘Y'all best mosey now.'

Breon shut one eye and squinted the other at the gun. ‘I bet it's a toy.'

‘Bet all you want.' José cocked the trigger, winked.

Breon nodded, smiled as he headed for the door. ‘Fellas, enjoy the beer.' He halted at the door. ‘And I really do hope you didn't kill that laptop. Not for me, but for you. There was money in that thing, boys. Real money that could have taken you places.' He left, halted at José's voice.