Suzie asked as he sat down.
“No answer. She’s probably taking a shower or something.”
“Let’s have another drink and you can try her again later.”
“I don’t know,” he said with growing concern. He looked at his watch. “We’re usually eating supper about now. Maybe we should call a cab and head on over there. You hungry?”
“She might not like me dropping in unannounced. You go ahead. I’ll stay here till I decide what to do.”
“I can’t just leave you.”
“You’re sweet,” she said, smiling. “But I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl.”
“Yeah, but Gary’s bigger. And meaner.” He winced. “Not that you’re mean. You know what I mean.”
She laughed. “I know. Really, I’ll be fine. You go home to your wife.”
Joe sighed. Then he rubbed his palms together with feigned enthusiasm and said, “What the hell, let’s have another round. I’ll call again in a few minutes. That’ll give her time to finish her shower.”
Even as he said the words, he knew she wasn’t in the shower. She wouldn’t be taking a shower at suppertime. She would be pacing the floor, trying to decide if she should be worried or angry that he was late for supper—if she was home and nothing was wrong.
Something
was
wrong. He could feel it. He could hear it. One of those sirens out there in the wild night could be screaming its way to his house.
CHAPTER FOUR
----
James didn’t remember letting go of the steering wheel. How the hell he ended up with his head in Josh’s lap he didn’t know, but he figured he was lucky he was still conscious and hadn’t been thrown through the windshield. He pushed up to a sitting position.
Josh was slumped against the passenger door with his eyes closed.
No blood. That was a good sign. James touched his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay? Josh!”
Josh’s eyes fluttered open. “Uhnnnnnn.”
“A fuckin’ ice cream truck,” James said, with a disgusted shake of his head. “Fucker must be drunk.”
The Honda had hit the Moo Goo Ice Cream truck broadside when the truck swerved to get out of the way. The side of the truck was crumpled, and the front end of the Honda rested against it. The engine was dead, so James switched off the ignition. “Say something, Josh. You all right, man?”
“Yeah. Shit. What the fuck happened?” Josh touched his forehead as if feeling for blood.
“You saw it. Crazy muthafucka was on the wrong side of the road. His fucking fault.”
The ice cream truck’s little bell was still jingling like crazy, and James figured it was running off the truck’s battery. The ice cream man sat motionless behind the wheel, his white cap crooked on his head. He turned his head and looked at James. James didn’t like the wild look in the guy’s eyes or the way the eyes glowed red in the light from the Honda’s one good headlight.
“Gimme your cell phone,” James said.
“Huh?”
“Your cellular. In your pocket. Give it to me.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Josh dug his hand into his shirt pocket and fished out the little phone and gave it to James.
“You hit your head or somethin’?” James asked him.
“I dunno. Don’t think so. Shit.”
James punched 9-1-1, then the send button. “Calling the cops. I think something’s wrong with that motherfucker. What fuckin’ street is this?”
Josh shrugged. “Did we…?”
The nine-one-one operator answered. James said, “I want to report an accident. An ice cream truck was driving on the wrong side of the road and I ran into it.”
The operator told him he was breaking up and asked him to repeat what he’d just said. “Goddamn,” he said. “Piece-of-shit phone. Can you hear me now?” he shouted.
The ice cream man stepped out of his truck, looked around as though he had just landed on some alien landscape, then came toward James. A trickle of blood rolled down his nose. He had a tire iron in his fist.
James heard the distant church bell tolling and wondered if it had stopped and then
“No answer. She’s probably taking a shower or something.”
“Let’s have another drink and you can try her again later.”
“I don’t know,” he said with growing concern. He looked at his watch. “We’re usually eating supper about now. Maybe we should call a cab and head on over there. You hungry?”
“She might not like me dropping in unannounced. You go ahead. I’ll stay here till I decide what to do.”
“I can’t just leave you.”
“You’re sweet,” she said, smiling. “But I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl.”
“Yeah, but Gary’s bigger. And meaner.” He winced. “Not that you’re mean. You know what I mean.”
She laughed. “I know. Really, I’ll be fine. You go home to your wife.”
Joe sighed. Then he rubbed his palms together with feigned enthusiasm and said, “What the hell, let’s have another round. I’ll call again in a few minutes. That’ll give her time to finish her shower.”
Even as he said the words, he knew she wasn’t in the shower. She wouldn’t be taking a shower at suppertime. She would be pacing the floor, trying to decide if she should be worried or angry that he was late for supper—if she was home and nothing was wrong.
Something
was
wrong. He could feel it. He could hear it. One of those sirens out there in the wild night could be screaming its way to his house.
CHAPTER FOUR
----
James didn’t remember letting go of the steering wheel. How the hell he ended up with his head in Josh’s lap he didn’t know, but he figured he was lucky he was still conscious and hadn’t been thrown through the windshield. He pushed up to a sitting position.
Josh was slumped against the passenger door with his eyes closed.
No blood. That was a good sign. James touched his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay? Josh!”
Josh’s eyes fluttered open. “Uhnnnnnn.”
“A fuckin’ ice cream truck,” James said, with a disgusted shake of his head. “Fucker must be drunk.”
The Honda had hit the Moo Goo Ice Cream truck broadside when the truck swerved to get out of the way. The side of the truck was crumpled, and the front end of the Honda rested against it. The engine was dead, so James switched off the ignition. “Say something, Josh. You all right, man?”
“Yeah. Shit. What the fuck happened?” Josh touched his forehead as if feeling for blood.
“You saw it. Crazy muthafucka was on the wrong side of the road. His fucking fault.”
The ice cream truck’s little bell was still jingling like crazy, and James figured it was running off the truck’s battery. The ice cream man sat motionless behind the wheel, his white cap crooked on his head. He turned his head and looked at James. James didn’t like the wild look in the guy’s eyes or the way the eyes glowed red in the light from the Honda’s one good headlight.
“Gimme your cell phone,” James said.
“Huh?”
“Your cellular. In your pocket. Give it to me.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Josh dug his hand into his shirt pocket and fished out the little phone and gave it to James.
“You hit your head or somethin’?” James asked him.
“I dunno. Don’t think so. Shit.”
James punched 9-1-1, then the send button. “Calling the cops. I think something’s wrong with that motherfucker. What fuckin’ street is this?”
Josh shrugged. “Did we…?”
The nine-one-one operator answered. James said, “I want to report an accident. An ice cream truck was driving on the wrong side of the road and I ran into it.”
The operator told him he was breaking up and asked him to repeat what he’d just said. “Goddamn,” he said. “Piece-of-shit phone. Can you hear me now?” he shouted.
The ice cream man stepped out of his truck, looked around as though he had just landed on some alien landscape, then came toward James. A trickle of blood rolled down his nose. He had a tire iron in his fist.
James heard the distant church bell tolling and wondered if it had stopped and then
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