Ice Shear by M. P. Cooley

the TV, where it was player two’s turn.
    I went into the kitchen and stood in front of the fridge. Orange juice and mayonnaise sat on the top shelf, some wilted greens on the second. Soda filled the bottom shelf.
    â€œWhat kind do you want?” I called.
    â€œGrape!”
    I smiled as I grabbed one. Lucy would have chosen the grape, too.
    When I returned he was frantically thumbing a text. He blushed when he saw me. “One of my girls,” he said. “Jackie.”
    I handed him the drink. “Got a lot of girlfriends, Ray?”
    He popped the tab and gulped down the soda, letting out a huge burp when he was done, his lips stained purple. “In California. They’re way hotter there.”
    I picked up the controller and pushed the button. The vehicle on-screen lurched forward.
    â€œSo,” I said, pulling my on-screen car over to the side of the road to make a drug deal. “You sleep out here?”
    â€œMos def.” Ray burped again. He giggled. “You’re sitting on my bed right now.”
    â€œAnd you’re sitting in your closet.” He shifted around in the nest of clothes.
    The police on-screen tried to stop me, and gave chase when I gunned it onto the expressway. “When’s the last time you saw Danielle?”
    Ray was back in gangster mode. “I don’t have to answer you. I don’t have to answer anything.” The leather of the vest bunched up as he crossed his arms.
    â€œTrue. But I think you might have seen her last, and I assume you want to help. I mean, from what you said before, the two of you had a bond, right?”
    Ray seemed to consider the question. “You’re supposed to stop and beat up the hos. More points.”
    â€œThanks for the tip”—I swerved around the group of prostitutes, crashing my car—“but I prefer not to.” I sent my guy running for the pursuing cop car, grabbed the cop’s gun, and commandeered his cruiser. Police business.
    â€œSo, can you tell me when you last saw her?”
    â€œBefore I went to bed, okay?”
    â€œAnd no one could have come in or out the front door without waking you up?” I fired my stolen gun back at the police car that was now in pursuit.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œAnd the back door?”
    â€œThat’s, that’s possible.” He dropped the controller and quickly grabbed it up again. “That’s probably what happened, okay?”
    â€œBut she told you she was going to meet her dad for breakfast.”
    Ray was rocking back and forth in the tan recliner, oblivious to the fact that he was banging the wall every time. “She told me that before. I woke up, she was gone, and I figured her dad picked her up. I went out, got my brother—”
    â€œWhat time did you go to bed?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œGuess.”
    â€œMidnight or one, okay?” He bobbled the game controller before bouncing it between the chair and the wall. As he scrambled to reach it, his drooping pants revealed Homer Simpson boxers peeking out from beneath the biker vest. When he sat back he was breathing hard. I let myself crash on-screen, and watched as a cop pushed my guy down on the hood of the vehicle.
    Ray was still huddled up in a ball.
    â€œYour turn,” I said.
    Ray picked up the controller. He hit a bunch of keys at once and the car started to fly.
    â€œThat’s cool,” I said.
    â€œI know all the cheats. Wait, catch this.” His speech was a charming mix of farm boy and gangster. He didn’t do either well. “I’ll show you how to get a really big gun, for your turn, you feel me?”
    â€œI feel you,” I said. “So the Abominations. Pretty hard core.”
    â€œThey are. They’re in the Bible. Serious badasses.”
    Somehow I doubted that the Bible spent much time on outlaw motorcycle gangs. “I didn’t realize they were in New