Bad Radio by Michael Langlois Page B

not to remember how he died. In seconds I was fast asleep.
    When I woke up, it was late afternoon, and I was starving. My clothes were dry and stiff and smelled a hell of a lot better. I put them on thinking about steak and knowing that Anne must be as hungry as I was.
    I pocketed my key and stepped out into the cool wind and butter-yellow afternoon sunlight. I stood in front of her door for the long moments necessary for me to kick down my pride and knocked.
    She answered immediately. Her hair looked damp, but she was dressed. The bed was rumpled and I noticed that she had also distrusted the comforter. She had folded it neatly and set it on the chair by the door.
    “Hey,” I said, trying to gauge her mood. She didn’t look angry.
    “Hey.”
    “You get some rest?”
    “Yes. You?”
    I nodded and rubbed at my stubbly chin. I needed to remember to buy a razor. And clothes. I took a deep breath. “Look, Anne. I’m sorry about earlier. How about I spring for dinner to make it up to you?”
    Her lips twitched up at the corners. “That must have been pretty hard to get out, you looked like you were going to choke for a minute there.”
    “I did not.”
    “Yes, you did. Now it’s my turn. It’s been a really bad couple of days for me, even before I came out to your house. I don’t normally bite people’s heads off like that.” She ducked inside and grabbed her purse and keys, and then stepped past me towards the car. “But you were still totally wrong.”
    “That’s big of you, thanks.”
    We wound up at a steakhouse a few miles from the motel. The large dining room was mostly empty since dinner was still two hours away for most folks. I asked for a table by the window so I could keep an eye on the car and got it with a gracious smile.
    Anne snapped her menu shut and said, “I’m picking the next place.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m a vegetarian, and so far you’ve picked a burger joint and a steakhouse, that’s why.”
    “Well why didn’t you say something when we drove up?”
    She shrugged. “Maybe you’re buying dinner because you’re sorry, and maybe I’m letting you drag me to a steakhouse because I’m sorry.”
    “They say you can tell a good compromise because nobody is happy.”
    She laughed. “So true.”
    To honor her gift to me, and because I didn’t know how long it was going to be before I saw another steak, I ordered a giant porterhouse, rare. She made do with a salad and some side dishes, which made me feel a little guilty, but it passed pretty quickly.
    When the steak came it was bigger than my head and nearly hanging off the sides of the plate. The outside was seared to a perfect crust and the inside was reddish-pink and so tender I almost didn’t need a knife. I went in and didn’t come up for air until half of it was gone.
    “So, about what we’re doing,” I said when I slowed down. “We need to catch a plane to North Carolina to see Henry. I’d like to do it tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
    “Why not just call him?”
    “I’ll call him. But we need to see him in person, too.”
    “To get his piece, right?”
    I chewed a piece of steak instead of answering.
    “I can’t afford a plane ticket, Abe. Why don’t we just drive down there? It’ll just take a couple of days, we can even drive in shifts and make in one long day if you want.”
    “No time. If those men left from my house or the retirement home and started driving, they could be there tomorrow. It’s a little over a twenty-hour drive from my place. We have to get there first. Don’t worry about the money, I’ll buy the tickets. I have some money saved up.”
    “You think they’re already heading there? Right now?”
    “I’ve been thinking about the timing, between the nursing home and my farm. If those two groups of men had left at the same time from somewhere west of here, they would have arrived at the home, and then at my farm at just the right times.
    “Now, if that’s true, maybe