Mr. Hooligan (40 page)

Paperwork squared away, he paid his departure tax with some of the Monsantos’ money, half expecting the woman to say, Uh-oh, where did you get this from?

He moved with his backpack through the sparse crowd, passport and ticket in his shirt pocket, straight to the security gate for Departures. He changed his mind and turned away. His eyes wandered out to the ticketing lobby, the people sitting in the molded plastic chairs. Riley searched for one face.

Candice, where are you? Are you here?

That was the mystery on Riley’s mind as he moved through the lobby—not so much the questions about what path his life would take now, but Candice. Are you with me, Candice?

No woman in the lobby looked like her. People sat stolidly in rows of adjoined chairs. Suntanned Americans in T-shirts and shorts and flip-flops. A group of chattering high school students standing in the ticketing line or sitting on bulky backpacks with North Carolina stickers.

A man in the gift shop was haggling over the price of a box of Cuban Cohibas. Riley browsed a spin rack for a good paperback mystery. He picked one idly, riffled the pages, not reading, feeling lonely.

Was this it? The grand farewell? Was this how he’d leave the Life and his hometown? Nothing to mark the occasion, nobody to bid good-bye to, no tears, no kisses? No nothing?

Maybe it was as it should be for a man who’d shaped a life under the radar. He put the book back. He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and walked out of the store, and saw her.

He wanted to cry, but he was grinning too much for that, and then he was over there chuckling with her, the smell of her hair in his nostrils, and hugging her high off the ground.

They sat by themselves in a corner holding hands, their bags on the floor between their feet. He kissed her and said, “I see it but I don’t believe it.”

She laced her fingers in his and they talked. To other travelers, they could have been summer lovers or newlyweds. Already they were creating new identities, discussing where they might live, what kind of apartment, better yet, a house. Two-bedroom, modest. But where? North Florida maybe? Mostly sunny there, temperate winters.

Miles reached into his backpack and placed a key on her thigh.

“What’s that?”

“Miles gave me the key to his house in Miami. He bought it during his boxing days. It’s vacant, we can use it for as long we need it, he says. Till we figure out where we’re going, get a place of our own.”

Candice gave him back the key. “Before we go there? We’re going to Antigua, remember? I have a friend of a friend who owns a hotel there. It overlooks a cane field on one side, the sea on the other.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, nodding and smiling at her. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“Then we’ll fly to St. John—Gibney Beach or Francis Beach, I loved both of them and there’s this house that I rented one time, off Route 20, less than three miles from Gibney.”

Riley was content to hold her hand and listen to her talk about places he knew nothing about. The snorkeling—she wanted to tell him about the snorkeling, said there was a fringing reef off the coast of Gibney that was great for snorkeling, floating along. “And maybe a rum drink or two after an exhausting day of lounging?”

And a question popped into his head, which she seemed to sense, turning around and looking at his face, trying to read it. She said, “They
could
come after me, but they won’t. You haven’t been charged with anything. They don’t have enough on you, so why waste their time coming after me?”

He let that sink in. “I was just wondering. When we end up wherever we end up, I was wondering about your reputation, job prospects, things like that.”

“I mailed in my letter of resignation this morning. I’m a private citizen, and so are you.”

He held her eyes. “On the river this morning, I had a good feeling. It was quiet out there. Did you give them anything, Candice? Mislead them?”

“What do you think?”

He slid into a slouch, nodded, still holding her hand.

“You believe me?”

People streamed by, but he was paying them little attention. He said, “I do, I do. It’s just that I didn’t figure it would end like this, so matter-of-factly. Candice, can I tell you something? I ever tell you how close I came to destroying myself?”

*   *   *

Quietly, their faces close, he told her the story of the dirt road, the policeman and the Lebanese. Was she shocked? If she was, and if being around him scared her, he’d understand if she said farewell and they went separate ways. Even though he wasn’t that kind of young man anymore, he could not hold it against her if she up and left this very minute.

Shocked? Not at all, she said, because she knew that story already. He said he wasn’t surprised that she did. Then he told her about the little boy at the gate and putting the gun to the boy’s head, and Riley closed his eyes when she squeezed his hand hard. Harder.

In a voice that sounded far away, he told her how his forearm tightened and sweat burned his eyes. How his arm quavered and he whispered to the boy,
Close your eyes, please
. The muzzle came to rest against the little boy’s head.

“But you didn’t do it,” Candice said.

In his mind, Riley saw himself lower the gun and the boy screwing up his face and starting to cry. Riley said that he watched the boy toddle up the driveway and disappear behind the trees, and in his mind now Riley watched the scene fade.…

Candice’s palm was on his chest. “But you didn’t do it. You didn’t.”

He needed a moment before he could speak again. True, he did not pull the trigger, but sometimes over the years, the thought of how close he had come had tortured him.

She wrapped an arm around his waist. “You’ve put that all behind you. You’ll never go back to those days. You’re stuck with me now.”

He felt a smile creeping up on him. “A two-bedroom house, huh?”

She caught on. “Can’t you see it? In a big yard. It’ll have bay windows and a skylight. Maybe a spare room with a cornice roof—that’ll be over the garage. And a lanai out back? A vegetable garden? A shed maybe, for tools? A pleasure garden, too.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I like that. What’s in this big front yard?”

She stared off. “I’m seeing like a farm or something. No fences, tall oak trees, and the ground slopes away, tall reedy grass moving in the wind, yeah … and there’s a quiet road that curves round the yard…”

“And there’s you, coming back from a morning jog.”

“Hey, you see it, too?”

“I hear a dog barking somewhere, coming through the tall grass to greet you. It’s running … wait, is that … Lassie?”

She slapped his arm. “Oh, shut up, you ruined it.”

His cell phone chirped and he reached into his pants pocket, checked the screen. Harvey’s cell. “Hello? What’s that?” He stood up fast. “Really?”

Two teenagers shrieked by, a boy trying to push an ice cube down a girl’s back.

Riley stuck a finger in his ear and walked away. “Wait … say that again?” He had to go around the group of teenagers and nudge past a man pushing an old woman in a wheelchair to find a quiet spot by the door of a gift shop.

“Go ahead, Harvey.”

“I said I don’t want to hear you complain I haven’t done anything for you. I’m calling about your son. Duncan’s waiting to see you. At that place by the river that we went fishing.”

Riley tipped his head back and grinned.

When he returned to Candice, he was holding the phone limply and she said, “What’s wrong?”

“My son. Duncan’s with Harvey. My ex-wife came back from Mérida late last night, called Gert this morning, wanted to know where I was. She told Gert that she woke up this morning and noticed two men watching the house, parked out front, and then they kept passing by. She figured they were looking for me.”

“May I ask why they’d be looking for you?”

Riley slipped the cell in his pocket and said, “Okay. There’s a little situation.”

Candice folded her arms across her chest, cocked her head. “Uh-oh. Do I want to hear this?”

Riley scratched his jaw, looked across the lobby and thought things over. “I’ve got to see my son. But my ex doesn’t want him coming here to see me. She wants me to go there if I want to say good-bye. She’s scared.”

“And does she have reason to be?”

Riley ignored the question and said, “They’re at a quiet spot by the river, near the hotel, she and my son. Harvey’ll come in his rental, take me there. Our flight doesn’t board for another hour.”

Candice’s eyes were steely. “Why are these men searching for you?”

Riley made sure he looked at her straight. “They’ve owed me money for years. They’ve shortchanged me for years, and I may have helped myself to that money.”

“You
may
have?”

“Some of it. Not all. I’ll never be able to get back everything I allowed them to take from me.”

Candice crossed her legs, one foot bobbing. “Now is when I find out? Any other details you need to share, Riley, any shockers?”

“We’ll have all the time for that. I promise … I promise I’ll tell you everything.” He turned around so that he was facing the terminal exit. “But right now, I need to move.”

She was looking at the ground, shaking her head. “I am so goddamn stupid. I just don’t learn.”

Riley said, “Candice…” He stepped toward her. He breathed a sigh and looked away. “Candice, there’s a whole bunch of stuff I could tell you, but there’s only one thing that matters, one thing. I am never,
never,
going back to that life, that business. Two reasons: I’m tired, I’m sick of it. And I have something with you. I’ve got enough money now to take care of my son for a long while. If I can’t be here as a father for him, then he’ll be secure in some other way. And you’re with me and, now, all I want is to tell my Duncan good-bye, and that’s it. You and I’ll have all the time to talk, and if you want to leave me then, after you know everything? Well, at least you’ll know we gave it a fair shot, and I’ll always know that this meant something to me.”

She gave him her profile.

He waited, could feel her retreating.

A voice sounded over the PA: “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. American Airlines would like to welcome you to Flight 3622 to Houston, which will now begin boarding…”

Candice stood up in front of him. “So you’d like me to stand outside for you and look out for your friend?”

He smiled. “You’re reading my mind. He can park his car and come in to find me, but we’d waste time. I told him to pull up at the curb, as close to the front entrance as he can get.”

“What kind of car?”

“A white Honda Accord, he says. Harvey’ll pull up, back door opens, I pop out the terminal, slide down in the backseat. I have some recent experience in that area.”

She smirked, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know about you, Riley.” She looked across the lobby, people passing through the security gate. “I wish this wasn’t so risky, but I agree, you should see your son.” She bent down, picked up her carry-on bag. “You and I aren’t done talking. Not by any stretch.”

Riley lifted his backpack off the floor and held it out to her. “Do me a favor and keep this for a while? It’s not that heavy, and I won’t be long.”

Candice slung the backpack across her shoulder and started walking to the entrance. “We now have fifty-six minutes till boarding. This better be quick, Riley James.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Riley lay flat on the backseat of the car, smiling at the sky. Wispy clouds, a bright morning. Man, he was feeling good.

“You should be,” Harvey said. “If I had children too and at the last minute I get the opportunity to kiss them good-bye? You
should
feel good.”

They were speeding down the road. The radio was playing a synthesizer-rich eighties beat that Riley couldn’t name but the familiar rhythm, from the days when he and Harvey were coming up, suited the moment like a theme song. It was almost over now and he was thinking all sorts of foolishness, picturing Duncan’s smile and picking him up to tickle his ribs and holding that slim body tight. Wondering if Duncan would cry when Daddy told him how long he’d be gone. Riley conjuring an image of a house on a grassy plain that looked like Candice’s dream, seeing Duncan in it, in the middle of the field, his black hair ruffling in the wind.

“What’s he wearing, Harvey?”

“What?” The car slowed for a curve.

“Duncan—what’s he wearing.”

“Shorts, plaid shirt with buttons, I think. No, yeah, plaid, khaki shorts. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Riley smiling at the sky, seeing Duncan in the field in shorts and a red plaid shirt.
One day, you’ll come to visit me.

That’s what he was going to tell him.

You’ll visit and we’ll take trips, do anything you want.

The car slowed way down and rolled into a right turn and continued along a bumpy road that Riley knew the hotel was on. He could see trees through the windows, the sky sweeping past, as the tires crunched gravel.