him. He rolled off the bed and fell into a crouch, ready to lunge. Guards came. He struggled but the doctors gave him to Brent anyway. They said he was next of kin. Family.
… Brent?
It was on the dogtag. That’s Brent’s word for it. But why was Brent’s name on the dogtag? Am I his pet? Happy wonders. Do I belong to him? He is no dog. He runs with wolves.
He does not like Brent. Keep your eyes shut, Happy. Keep them closed and he won’t know you’re in here.
He is riding along between them. The nice soft woman is soft, but not as nice as he thought. She says over Happy’s head, “Why in hell didn’t you hose him down before we got in the car?”
“It’s not my fault he stinks.”
“You could have put him in the trunk!”
Smelly breath mists Happy’s face as Brent peers at him, but he keeps his eyes clenched. “Lie down with wolves and you smell like one. You hear?”
“Save your breath, he’s out cold.” The woman riding along next to him, what does this Brent call her? Susan. Susan gives Happy a little shake; his head rolls back and settles on her arm. “If you want him smiling on TV , you’d better revive him.”
“Not now, Suze. Live at Five next Thursday.”
“Like they aren’t already waiting at Chateau Marmont?”
“No way! We can’t go public until Dad makes the deal.” Dad . The word Happy refused to remember. His teeth clash and his hackles rise. It is hard to keep from growling.
“You should have thought of that at the airport. Mr. Show Biz.” She goes on in Brent’s voice, “‘I rescued him.’ Like you didn’t see the camcorders. Screen shots. Everybody knows!”
“Well, tough. Nobody sees him until the press conference. Dad is talking eight figures.”
Happy’s insides shift. He is confused. Wolves don’t think in figures.
Brent barks, “Driver, get off at National.”
“What are you thinking? ”
“Gonna hide him!”
“Not in this town,” Susan says. Distracted, she’s let parts of herself flow into Happy. She thinks he is asleep. Parts of him flow back and she lets him.
“Outskirts. Inland empire. The valley.”
She says, “Too close.” Happy leans a little closer; she shrugs him off, but he slips back and she lets him. It is hard for him to keep from smiling. They ride along like this for a while. At last she says thoughtfully, “Your mom stayed back in Caverness, right?”
“She did,” Brent says and then he just stops talking.
The car rounds a corner and Happy leans into the body next to his, but only a little bit. He can feel her voice vibrating in his bones. “Then take him to your mom’s.”
Warm, she is so warm.
“No way. She hasn’t forgiven me for losing him.”
Something changes in the car. “You lost him?”
Happy’s ears prick.
The woman has asked a question that Brent won’t answer. He says instead, “Come on, Susan. What are we going to do?”
“You lost your very own brother?”
“Not really. Well, sort of.”
Happy is trying to make his mouth into the right shape to frame the big question. Even if he could, he knows not to bring it out. It is disturbing.
“Brent, what were you thinking? ”
The fat man whines, “Mom said he was a mistake. I thought she would thank me, but she freaked.”
Mom. Another word Happy can’t parse. Oh. Same as mother. That word. Soft, he remembers. Other things. He will not remember other things.
“She never forgave Dad either.”
“So he lives in L.A. Got that.” Susan adds drily, “Too bad you can’t divorce your kids.”
“Could we not talk about this please?”
She stiffens— is it something I did? “Back there.” Her voice goes up a notch. “Look. Tell me that’s not a mobile unit.”
“Holy crap, it’s TV Eight. Driver, take Laurel Canyon.”
The car goes around many curves and up, up, higher than Happy remembers being, and whenever they round a curve too fast he bumps against Susan’s soft parts like a sleeper with no control over what he is doing,
… Brent?
It was on the dogtag. That’s Brent’s word for it. But why was Brent’s name on the dogtag? Am I his pet? Happy wonders. Do I belong to him? He is no dog. He runs with wolves.
He does not like Brent. Keep your eyes shut, Happy. Keep them closed and he won’t know you’re in here.
He is riding along between them. The nice soft woman is soft, but not as nice as he thought. She says over Happy’s head, “Why in hell didn’t you hose him down before we got in the car?”
“It’s not my fault he stinks.”
“You could have put him in the trunk!”
Smelly breath mists Happy’s face as Brent peers at him, but he keeps his eyes clenched. “Lie down with wolves and you smell like one. You hear?”
“Save your breath, he’s out cold.” The woman riding along next to him, what does this Brent call her? Susan. Susan gives Happy a little shake; his head rolls back and settles on her arm. “If you want him smiling on TV , you’d better revive him.”
“Not now, Suze. Live at Five next Thursday.”
“Like they aren’t already waiting at Chateau Marmont?”
“No way! We can’t go public until Dad makes the deal.” Dad . The word Happy refused to remember. His teeth clash and his hackles rise. It is hard to keep from growling.
“You should have thought of that at the airport. Mr. Show Biz.” She goes on in Brent’s voice, “‘I rescued him.’ Like you didn’t see the camcorders. Screen shots. Everybody knows!”
“Well, tough. Nobody sees him until the press conference. Dad is talking eight figures.”
Happy’s insides shift. He is confused. Wolves don’t think in figures.
Brent barks, “Driver, get off at National.”
“What are you thinking? ”
“Gonna hide him!”
“Not in this town,” Susan says. Distracted, she’s let parts of herself flow into Happy. She thinks he is asleep. Parts of him flow back and she lets him.
“Outskirts. Inland empire. The valley.”
She says, “Too close.” Happy leans a little closer; she shrugs him off, but he slips back and she lets him. It is hard for him to keep from smiling. They ride along like this for a while. At last she says thoughtfully, “Your mom stayed back in Caverness, right?”
“She did,” Brent says and then he just stops talking.
The car rounds a corner and Happy leans into the body next to his, but only a little bit. He can feel her voice vibrating in his bones. “Then take him to your mom’s.”
Warm, she is so warm.
“No way. She hasn’t forgiven me for losing him.”
Something changes in the car. “You lost him?”
Happy’s ears prick.
The woman has asked a question that Brent won’t answer. He says instead, “Come on, Susan. What are we going to do?”
“You lost your very own brother?”
“Not really. Well, sort of.”
Happy is trying to make his mouth into the right shape to frame the big question. Even if he could, he knows not to bring it out. It is disturbing.
“Brent, what were you thinking? ”
The fat man whines, “Mom said he was a mistake. I thought she would thank me, but she freaked.”
Mom. Another word Happy can’t parse. Oh. Same as mother. That word. Soft, he remembers. Other things. He will not remember other things.
“She never forgave Dad either.”
“So he lives in L.A. Got that.” Susan adds drily, “Too bad you can’t divorce your kids.”
“Could we not talk about this please?”
She stiffens— is it something I did? “Back there.” Her voice goes up a notch. “Look. Tell me that’s not a mobile unit.”
“Holy crap, it’s TV Eight. Driver, take Laurel Canyon.”
The car goes around many curves and up, up, higher than Happy remembers being, and whenever they round a curve too fast he bumps against Susan’s soft parts like a sleeper with no control over what he is doing,
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