The Trouble in Me (14 page)

Once I lost my momentum my skates dug into the sandy soil and I flew forward and somersaulted over some dog poop. The poop was old and hard so it didn't stick to me.

“I'll get this developed soon,” Alice said, sounding very pleased. “Now that we have the movie camera I think we should redo all the Olympic stunts and capture them in movies instead of still pictures.”

I couldn't imagine that I would survive another catapult shot over their house and into their pool. This was the right time to change the subject.

“Now can I see the puppies?” I asked. “To pick one out.”

“Sure,” she said. “But you can only have the sick little runty one.”

“What if I don't want the runt?” I said right back.

“So what?” she replied. “Don't be ungrateful when someone gives you something for free.”

“I nearly killed myself going through the hula hoop,” I argued. “I should pick the one I want.”

“With that attitude,” she said snottily as her rotating mouth crunched her words into bits, “you won't even get the runt.”

“We'll see about that,” I snapped. “When Gary gets back he'll straighten this out.”

“You are such a gigantic idiot,” she continued to crow. “Don't you know that you are
his
runt? He'll put this dud dog out of its misery just like he'll do to you.”

At that, Frankie began to laugh uncontrollably as he repeated, “Runt, runt, runt,” like he was a grunting pig.

I would have punched him if I didn't deep-down inside think he was insane and would go mental and try to kill me.

I took a few steps toward my house, then turned around and shouted at Alice, “Gary will make you give me one of the good pups. He's my friend!” Of course, my voice shot up an octave, and as I slunk away I tortured myself by hearing my dad mocking me with his “what a panty voice” crack.

 

FLAMING WALLET

The morning sun was a rising gong of pulsing heat, but I was standing beneath it in the backyard because I knew Gary had come home during the night. It was after midnight when I had heard his whiny complaining to his mother that he needed new underwear before he got married. “Go to Sears in the morning,” she had replied.

“You go,” he begged her. “You know shopping only gives me itchy fingers.”

“Honey,” she said sweetly, as if talking softly to a pet, “I'm not going anywhere, but it's traditional to have clean underwear when you get married.”

“Then I'll get Frankie to buy them,” he said.

So I was up early and standing in my backyard, hosing the dirt and leaves off the back patio and hoping to spot Gary. Since he hadn't gotten married yet I knew he had more time for me.

Finally he did wake up and step outside in some dingy boxers I hadn't seen before. When he saw me he swaggered over to the fence.

“So how'd it go with Leigh?” I asked after turning off the hose and coming over.

“That was one long bad mood,” he said, and spit to one side. “So I drive all the way up. I hide the hot tow truck in some woods and walk to Leigh's house trailer. I see her mom and dad, and we solve some old problems. So now I feel real good. Like I found a place in life where I belong, with them and Leigh. Then a little later I borrow Leigh's truck to buy some groceries for dinner, and on the way her older brothers run me off the road and accuse me of stealing Leigh's truck.

“One brother says, ‘You don't do something like take her truck without our permission.'

“‘We're gonna be married,' I said. ‘What's it matter?'

“Then they flip out and start shoving me and telling me there is no way in hell they'll let Leigh marry me. Honestly, I wanted to kill them, but I just smacked them around a bit.

“So they take her truck and leave me by the side of the road and when I walk back to Leigh's place I tell her what happened. She says her brothers are flipping out about the marriage. ‘What's to flip out about?' I said to her. ‘I'm going to be family to them, so they should treat me good right from the beginning.'”

“So you didn't get hitched,” I concluded, just to keep the conversation alive.

“Not yet,” he spat. “So then I had to get the tow truck and chance not getting caught coming back. I ditched it in a parking garage in Pompano Beach and hitched home. We'll just run off as soon as I snatch another car and do it without her family knowing. But right now I need your help.”

I perked right up. “Buying underwear?” I replied.

“I don't know who is more nosy—you or my probation officer, who is making another house call this morning,” he said.

“How can I help this time?” I asked.

I was eager to do anything I could for Gary because I was nervous about the wallet in my pocket. He wouldn't be happy that Tomi had given it to me and told me the story about where it came from.

“Seems that cop called Mercier about me being suspiciously linked to that missing tow truck,” he said. “You got a fix for that?”

“You mean an excuse, right?” I asked.

“Don't make me hurt you,” he said, and narrowed his eyes. “I did enough fighting in Alabama—and I'm a smidge away from getting married and off probation—so my mood is fragile.”

He held up his scabby fists for me to see what might be coming my way.

“I can tell him that we were on a Sea Cadet training initiation,” I suggested. “I already asked my dad, and he said you can join and come on our cadet retreat.”

“What kind of training initiation?” he asked.

“Survival stuff,” I suggested. “Like spending a weekend in the Glades living off of wildlife and plants.”

“I like the survival stuff,” he said. “Lots of blood. No telephones. Right?”

“Right,” I agreed. “We can tell Mercier we had to toughen up just like we were stranded in real life—like it's training for joining the marines, which we can say you are thinking of doing someday, like following in your dad's footsteps.”

“And when's the retreat?” he asked.

“This weekend,” I lied, making up the details on the spot. “At Birch State Park on the beach.”

“Perfect,” he said, and clapped his hands together. “For how long?”

“Two days.”

“Excellent,” he said, nodding favorably. “I can slip up to Alabama and elope with Leigh and bring her back home. Mercier won't know a thing. Problem solved.”

“Not all the problems are solved,” I said quietly.

He gave me a puzzled look. “Why?”

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked. “'Cause now I have a problem.”

“Don't I usually punch you when you ask me a question?” he said, and cocked his fist back.

“This is more than that,” I replied as I reached into my back pocket. I took my time pulling out the wallet and held it straight toward him as if I were revealing the evidence to a crime. “Tomi asked me to give this back to you,” I said. Then I stood still and waited for the punch.

“Oh, crap,” he said, and took it from me as he glared over at her house. “She's just making trouble like she always does. She thinks I'm going to get pissed off at you, but she's wrong. She probably told you that pathetic story of hers that she tells everyone. I know her backstabbing version backward and forward, and I just bet she wants you to ask me for my side of the story.”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” I said, feeling slightly relieved that he didn't just haul off and punch me in the face. “That's it exactly.”

“And I guess you just stood there like a lovesick puppy and listened to her run me down. Right?” he asked.

I nodded.

“And you didn't defend me?”

“I wasn't sure how to,” I said.

“Punch her lights out—like
this
!” he hissed, and hit me so quick and hard on the shoulder I let go of the fence and fell backward on the grass, which was like landing on a bed of nails.

“I'm sorry!” I cried out. “But I didn't want to lie to you about where I got it.”

“Save your lies for Mercier,” he said. “Don't screw it up for me. Remember, I'm a breath away from freedom.”

“Deal,” I said, and stood up and stuck out my hand.

He flicked it away. “We're friends,” he said. “That's the
real
deal.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to mimic his bravado. “So don't worry about Mercier. I can handle him like the last time.”

“Okay. That you did.” He held up the wallet. “Yeah, I took this off the dead pilot,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I risked my life to do it, too, because after the crash he was strapped into his seat and on fire like one of those Buddhist monks. I burned my hands cutting open his flaming jumpsuit and pulling the wallet out of his pants. That's when the spare tank blew and I barely made it out of there.

“I figured I was going to give it to his family rather than let whatever he had in there go up in smoke. Once I opened it was when I saw the thousand bucks. I wasn't sure what to do with it because I don't often find that kind of money. Then right around that time Suzy, who was my girlfriend then, dumped me after she swooped down and stole Tomi's rich boyfriend right off her arm. He was some prep-school kid. Jordan something.”

“Abernathy,” I added.

“That's it,” he said, and snapped his fingers. “Suzy was so money-blind I stupidly gave her the wallet to try and get her back with me. That sure as hell didn't work. I didn't get her back, and she kept the wallet. Then the next thing you know Tomi turns up pregnant. She wasn't my girlfriend anymore. Ask anybody. But mysteriously Tomi ends up with the wallet and the money. So who do you think gave it to her? Suzy? Of course not. But she must have been dumb enough to have shown it to Jordan and he stole the wallet from Suzy and secretly gave it to Tomi, because he was the dirty bird who got her in trouble.”

“But why would he do that?” I asked. “Tomi said he was loaded.”

“But he wasn't loaded,” Gary said, and smiled wryly. “Get this. That Richie Rich act was all a fake. The chauffeur was Jordan's dad, who worked for a limo company. They didn't have a thousand bucks sitting around. And Jordan wasn't sitting around either. After he gave Tomi the wallet nobody saw him again. He vanished. He didn't want any part of those girls, and with the mess he was in he took off to who-knows-where. Hell, I would have run off, too.”

“So it wasn't you who got Tomi in trouble?” I slowly dared to ask.

He smirked. “That story she tells about me is a tired old lie. That baby belonged to Jordan, which is why he was so quick to dump her and chase after Suzy. Just think about it for a minute and what I'm saying all makes sense.”

I just stood there comparing the two stories like I was in the Garden of Eden wondering if I should bite the snake's apple or not.

“So who are you going to believe? Her?” He pointed to Tomi's house. “She who goes around spreading lies about me? Or are you going to believe me, who has no reason to fear anyone, so I always tell the truth? Why do you think Leigh moved to Alabama? Because Tomi told Leigh's mother I was the dirty bird. No one has a reason to be more pissed at Tomi than me. Being a coward is what makes people lie to themselves and to anyone who will listen to them. I can tell you this—I'm no coward!” He held his swollen red fist up under my chin like it was the apple. “Now,” he asked as his rising knuckles lifted me onto my tiptoes, “who are you going to believe?”

Over Gary's shoulder I saw Mr. Mercier's Ford Falcon pull up in the Pagoda driveway. When he got out he glanced toward us and slammed the door behind himself, then pointed to the Pagoda house. “Inside, now!” he hollered like he was scolding a dog.

“Whatever you say to him, make it a winner,” Gary whispered, and gave me a quick pat on the back. “Or else you'll be the loser.”

I had my work cut out for me because Mr. Mercier was angry and he had his facts together and he started up the moment Gary and I entered the house.

“Somebody ratted you out and let us know you were in Alabama,” he said, angrily marching back and forth between what looked like two crushed La-Z-Boy recliners. “Not only is leaving the state without permission a violation, but you were up there harassing your old girlfriend.”

“That's not possible,” I cut in. “He was with my dad and me on a Sea Cadets trip.”

Mercier turned and looked at me as if he could backhand me down the hall. “What are you?” he snapped viciously. “His midget understudy?”

“His friend,” I said sincerely.

Detailed lying was my strong suit and by the time I finished telling how Gary and I had gone on a Sea Cadet survival trip and spent forty-eight hours bonding like real men in a raft on Big Cypress Swamp in the Glades with nothing but a flashlight, a paddle, water, and a fishing line, all Mr. Mercier could do was look at Gary with loathing and say, “Well, you didn't seem to get much sun on your sensitive lying face.”

“We covered our faces in zinc oxide,” I said. “We looked like snowmen—actually snow cones.”

I laughed a little at my own joke. It helped strengthen the lie, I thought.

“I think I'm the one being
snowed
,” Mr. Mercier said, but he didn't question me any further and before long he looked at his watch and stood up. “I gotta run to court,” he said, sounding annoyed. “Believe it or not there are about a million Gary Pagodas out there on the loose, and I'm the guy who has to keep them on a virtuous path—before they end up behind bars living in hell on earth.”

After that threat he pointed a finger at Gary. “No funny business,” he said. “Or I promise you I'll run out of patience.” Then he swiftly turned to me and pulled a pad and pencil out of his jacket pocket. “What's your dad's phone number?”

“We don't have a phone,” I replied. “Look in the phone book—no Gantoses in there. We can't afford one.”