Baxter. He thought of calling her to make sure she planned to keep her appointment. But he worried she would keep him on the phone, and he had been trying to focus completely on Billy when they were together.
Billy came out of the place in full teenage regalia, wearing a black, Aéropostale T-shirt baggy military style pants worn off his hips and Nike high tops, unlaced. His three silver hoop earrings were back in his left ear. His beaded, leather choker was back around his neck. He walked with a swagger that was put on, like a kid playing a tough guy in a movie.
He got in the truck, stared straight ahead. "Thanks for picking me up."
"No problem."
Clevenger backed out of his space, stared down Broadway, headed for Route 99 and the back roads to Chelsea.
"I broke up with Casey," Billy said.
Billy had been with Casey Simms the past two years, a seventeen-year-old from Newburyport, an hour up 95 North. Clevenger wondered whether announcing the breakup was his way of explaining why he lost his cool in the ring. "I didn’t see that coming," Clevenger said. "You two seemed to be getting along."
"She’s getting clingy, all of a sudden. Crazy jealous."
"All of a sudden. Any idea why?"
"She’s a girl," Billy said, without taking his eyes off the road.
"You okay with it? The breakup?"
"Sure."
That was about as much access to Billy’s emotional life as Clevenger was getting lately. "Does breaking up with her have anything to do with you going after that kid after Donovan called the fight?"
Billy shrugged. "I didn’t hear him."
Clevenger looked over at him.
"Really," he said, glancing at Clevenger. "I know what you’re thinking. I was projecting my frustration with Casey onto Nick. But I’m not about to blame my behavior on that unconscious dynamic." He turned to Clevenger and smiled his most winning smile. "In other words, I should have been listening, and I take full responsibility. You good with that, Doc?"
Billy always had a way of making light of his troubles. But Clevenger couldn’t take them so lightly. "If you go deaf on Donovan again, you’re out of there for a summer, Champ," Clevenger said. "If you respect the sport, great. If it’s an excuse for a rumble, skip it."
"Got it," Billy said, turning back and staring through the windshield again. Fifteen, twenty seconds passed in silence. "You gonna get the case of that guy in the alleyway at Mass General? Now they’re saying maybe he didn’t blow himself away, after all."
"Who’s saying that?"
"A reporter on the radio. I caught it while I was warming up."
Clevenger had given up on trying to keep Billy in the dark about his forensic work. He didn’t think it was particularly healthy for him to focus on violence, but he didn’t think it was particularly healthy for him to grow up with a father keeping his occupation a secret, either. And maybe if Billy saw him working with the police, he would be more inclined to respect the law. "The Boston Police Department hired me today. They want me to help them figure out if Snow committed suicide or not."
"Cool," Billy said excitedly. "What do you think?"
"It’s too early to think much of anything."
Billy nodded to himself. "The guy was supposed to get his brain operated on, right?"
"Right."
"Could he have died?"
"That’s always a possibility with neurosurgery."
"Then no way did he off himself."
Clevenger looked over at him. "Why not?"
"Because, like they say, freedom is having nothing left to lose. You can always kill yourself, dude. If you think you might die anyhow, why to roll the dice? Maybe you never wake up. Or maybe you wake up and feel better — like a whole new person." He paused. "I used to wish for that. Didn’t you?"
"To wake up a new person, or not to wake up?"
"Both. Either. Whatever."
Clevenger looked over at Billy, who made real eye contact with him for the first time since he’d gotten in
Billy came out of the place in full teenage regalia, wearing a black, Aéropostale T-shirt baggy military style pants worn off his hips and Nike high tops, unlaced. His three silver hoop earrings were back in his left ear. His beaded, leather choker was back around his neck. He walked with a swagger that was put on, like a kid playing a tough guy in a movie.
He got in the truck, stared straight ahead. "Thanks for picking me up."
"No problem."
Clevenger backed out of his space, stared down Broadway, headed for Route 99 and the back roads to Chelsea.
"I broke up with Casey," Billy said.
Billy had been with Casey Simms the past two years, a seventeen-year-old from Newburyport, an hour up 95 North. Clevenger wondered whether announcing the breakup was his way of explaining why he lost his cool in the ring. "I didn’t see that coming," Clevenger said. "You two seemed to be getting along."
"She’s getting clingy, all of a sudden. Crazy jealous."
"All of a sudden. Any idea why?"
"She’s a girl," Billy said, without taking his eyes off the road.
"You okay with it? The breakup?"
"Sure."
That was about as much access to Billy’s emotional life as Clevenger was getting lately. "Does breaking up with her have anything to do with you going after that kid after Donovan called the fight?"
Billy shrugged. "I didn’t hear him."
Clevenger looked over at him.
"Really," he said, glancing at Clevenger. "I know what you’re thinking. I was projecting my frustration with Casey onto Nick. But I’m not about to blame my behavior on that unconscious dynamic." He turned to Clevenger and smiled his most winning smile. "In other words, I should have been listening, and I take full responsibility. You good with that, Doc?"
Billy always had a way of making light of his troubles. But Clevenger couldn’t take them so lightly. "If you go deaf on Donovan again, you’re out of there for a summer, Champ," Clevenger said. "If you respect the sport, great. If it’s an excuse for a rumble, skip it."
"Got it," Billy said, turning back and staring through the windshield again. Fifteen, twenty seconds passed in silence. "You gonna get the case of that guy in the alleyway at Mass General? Now they’re saying maybe he didn’t blow himself away, after all."
"Who’s saying that?"
"A reporter on the radio. I caught it while I was warming up."
Clevenger had given up on trying to keep Billy in the dark about his forensic work. He didn’t think it was particularly healthy for him to focus on violence, but he didn’t think it was particularly healthy for him to grow up with a father keeping his occupation a secret, either. And maybe if Billy saw him working with the police, he would be more inclined to respect the law. "The Boston Police Department hired me today. They want me to help them figure out if Snow committed suicide or not."
"Cool," Billy said excitedly. "What do you think?"
"It’s too early to think much of anything."
Billy nodded to himself. "The guy was supposed to get his brain operated on, right?"
"Right."
"Could he have died?"
"That’s always a possibility with neurosurgery."
"Then no way did he off himself."
Clevenger looked over at him. "Why not?"
"Because, like they say, freedom is having nothing left to lose. You can always kill yourself, dude. If you think you might die anyhow, why to roll the dice? Maybe you never wake up. Or maybe you wake up and feel better — like a whole new person." He paused. "I used to wish for that. Didn’t you?"
"To wake up a new person, or not to wake up?"
"Both. Either. Whatever."
Clevenger looked over at Billy, who made real eye contact with him for the first time since he’d gotten in
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