were
expecting
you that night. Waited for you, even, until I said we needed to get on with it.”
“I was tired of doing that stuff. Just dumb luck I wasn’t there, nothing more.”
“Dumb luck.”
It was all Will could do to hold the man’s gaze, but he knew he damn well better. “Lucky, lucky you. You might be the luckiest fucker I know,
William
.”
“Look,” said Will, “I’m here to ask you to help me find the men who killed my son.”
There followed a long, long moment in which Will fell into the blackness of the other man’s eyes and spun down and down in it. It was fine with him. It matched his own blackness, and he found he didn’t mind the company.
It was Jason who pulled out first. “Will, listen to me,” he said, “and then get the fuck out of here. Even if I could help you findthe men who killed your son, I wouldn’t. You know why? You’re not the type for that kind of work. I mean, really, what are you going to do, ask them for a fucking apology? I can see you’ve got a gun in your shirt right now, and it’s just fucking ridiculous on you. You need to get the fuck out of here and forget that this conversation ever happened, all right? Just take your brother and go back to your little house, maybe add this to one of your stories and tell your faggot writer friends about how involved you get in your writing. Either the police will catch them or not. They probably won’t, and that’ll be that.”
“I need you to help me find the men who killed my son,” Will said, “and you’re going to do it.”
Jason’s eyebrows lifted. “Will,” he said, “this is no longer funny, do you understand? I can be a nice enough guy, under the right circumstances, but this ain’t them, and you ain’t a friend. Last chance. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
“You’re going to help me find the men who killed my son,” said Will, and as he spoke the words, Jason stood from his stool, a sawn-off baseball bat appearing in his right hand like a magic trick. Isaac was grabbing Will’s shoulder, but Will continued. “You’re going to help me find them, because my son could just as easily have had your blood in him as mine.”
“W hat the fuck did you just say?” Jason said. The color hadn’t quite drained from his face, but all the deadly ease in it had disappeared. “The
fuck
?”
“Will?” It was Isaac, beside him. Will hadn’t thought about him in what felt like an hour. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
Jason sat back in his stool, and Will grabbed a folding chair leaning against the wall, unfolded it, and sat. Isaac, looking confused, finally decided to do the same.
“I said that my son Alex could just as easily be your blood as mine.”
“Explain. And if you’re fucking with me, this is going to be a lot worse. I can take getting fucked with a little, but not like that and definitely not from you, not ever.”
“You used to go around with Patty Edwards, right?”
“Yeah, before I got sent up. I fucked her here and there, never my squeeze, but a sidepiece.”
“Yeah, I used to go around with her too. As far as I know, though, we were it. Fire and ice, or something like it—she wanted the guy who seemed like he might make it out of the life and the dude who would kick in the door. I used to think I was running a scam on her, being with her and then other chicks when she wasn’t around.”
“So did I,” said Jason, “but she had her own shit going on too, huh?”
“Exactly. She was running her own little show, but like I said, we were it.”
“And Patty’s your son’s mother,” Jason said. “How come I didn’t know that?”
“You were in the can, and when you got out, she was gone.”
Jason nodded, taking it in. “And when I got out, you had a kid you were raising. I guess I did know that, not that I gave a shit. By then you were dead to me, and lucky you weren’t dead to you too.” He shook his head. “Patty’s kid. Fuck me running.”
“Why is this
expecting
you that night. Waited for you, even, until I said we needed to get on with it.”
“I was tired of doing that stuff. Just dumb luck I wasn’t there, nothing more.”
“Dumb luck.”
It was all Will could do to hold the man’s gaze, but he knew he damn well better. “Lucky, lucky you. You might be the luckiest fucker I know,
William
.”
“Look,” said Will, “I’m here to ask you to help me find the men who killed my son.”
There followed a long, long moment in which Will fell into the blackness of the other man’s eyes and spun down and down in it. It was fine with him. It matched his own blackness, and he found he didn’t mind the company.
It was Jason who pulled out first. “Will, listen to me,” he said, “and then get the fuck out of here. Even if I could help you findthe men who killed your son, I wouldn’t. You know why? You’re not the type for that kind of work. I mean, really, what are you going to do, ask them for a fucking apology? I can see you’ve got a gun in your shirt right now, and it’s just fucking ridiculous on you. You need to get the fuck out of here and forget that this conversation ever happened, all right? Just take your brother and go back to your little house, maybe add this to one of your stories and tell your faggot writer friends about how involved you get in your writing. Either the police will catch them or not. They probably won’t, and that’ll be that.”
“I need you to help me find the men who killed my son,” Will said, “and you’re going to do it.”
Jason’s eyebrows lifted. “Will,” he said, “this is no longer funny, do you understand? I can be a nice enough guy, under the right circumstances, but this ain’t them, and you ain’t a friend. Last chance. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
“You’re going to help me find the men who killed my son,” said Will, and as he spoke the words, Jason stood from his stool, a sawn-off baseball bat appearing in his right hand like a magic trick. Isaac was grabbing Will’s shoulder, but Will continued. “You’re going to help me find them, because my son could just as easily have had your blood in him as mine.”
“W hat the fuck did you just say?” Jason said. The color hadn’t quite drained from his face, but all the deadly ease in it had disappeared. “The
fuck
?”
“Will?” It was Isaac, beside him. Will hadn’t thought about him in what felt like an hour. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
Jason sat back in his stool, and Will grabbed a folding chair leaning against the wall, unfolded it, and sat. Isaac, looking confused, finally decided to do the same.
“I said that my son Alex could just as easily be your blood as mine.”
“Explain. And if you’re fucking with me, this is going to be a lot worse. I can take getting fucked with a little, but not like that and definitely not from you, not ever.”
“You used to go around with Patty Edwards, right?”
“Yeah, before I got sent up. I fucked her here and there, never my squeeze, but a sidepiece.”
“Yeah, I used to go around with her too. As far as I know, though, we were it. Fire and ice, or something like it—she wanted the guy who seemed like he might make it out of the life and the dude who would kick in the door. I used to think I was running a scam on her, being with her and then other chicks when she wasn’t around.”
“So did I,” said Jason, “but she had her own shit going on too, huh?”
“Exactly. She was running her own little show, but like I said, we were it.”
“And Patty’s your son’s mother,” Jason said. “How come I didn’t know that?”
“You were in the can, and when you got out, she was gone.”
Jason nodded, taking it in. “And when I got out, you had a kid you were raising. I guess I did know that, not that I gave a shit. By then you were dead to me, and lucky you weren’t dead to you too.” He shook his head. “Patty’s kid. Fuck me running.”
“Why is this
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