okay?” I said.
“Yes.”
“Indy around?”
“No.”
“Out skating?” I looked around. Then I saw it. Indy’s board. Snapped in half and lying on the carpet. The war had already been waged. “Holy shit,” I blurted out. “What happened?”
“Watch your mouth,” he growled.
I took a breath. “Yessir. Sorry.”
A moment passed, and he cleared his throat. “Your brother is not living here anymore.”
Silence. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“We decided it would be in his best interests if he left.”
“Where’d he go?”
“That’s not my concern. He chose not to abide by my rules, and he’ll pay the consequences.”
“Where’s Mom?”
“Out.”
I sighed. “She’s pissed at you?”
He swiveled his head to me. “Not your business, Tate.”
“God, Dad, what happened?”
He furrowed his brow, his thick neck flushed from the booze and his eyes fierce. “Let it go if you’re smart.”
The tone in his voice told me everything I needed to know. “Sure. You need anything?”
“Another beer.”
I went to the fridge and grabbed a beer for him, not wanting to, but not wanting to have my head ripped from my neck, either. I handed it to him.
Silence.
I grabbed my board, heading toward the door. I turned back, looking at him. “Hey, Dad?”
He didn’t look at me. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
He slowly nodded. “So am I, son.”
I left then, heading out to find Indy. The first place I went was Under the Bridge, but he wasn’t there, so I headed to the Hole in the Wall, where Badger sat behind his counter eating Tootsie Rolls. He popped one in his mouth. “He said you’d come skulking around here.”
“Where is he?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. He said if he told me, he’d have to have you kill me.”
“Come on, Badge.”
“Totally serious. He came in, asked if he could stay in the back; I told him I wasn’t running a youth hostel and that it might look like I was boffing a teenager; he bought a new board and then left. But he made me promise on the rocker oath that I wouldn’t tell.”
“A new board?”
“Yeah. Nicest one I’ve built in a long time. Birdhouse trucks, fine deck, the whole shot. He paid my Visa bill this month.”
I shook my head. I knew he didn’t have money for it. At least honest money. “Who was he with?”
“Nobody.”
My mind reeled through everybody he knew. Piper and Sid would be a decent bet, but he’d know I’d come looking.Maybe that guy Will. My heart sank at the thought of that. Then there was Porkchop, a guy he knew well enough but who I’d never met. Before he quit smoking, Indy got his stuff from him. I didn’t know exactly where he lived, though. “You know a guy named Will?”
“No. Never heard of him.”
“What about Porkchop?”
He nodded. “Porkchop Jones. Went to school with him back when, and he gets me my smoke. Dope dealer.”
“Where does he live.”
He shook his head. “I don’t answer questions that get me involved in family issues, dude. Sorry. I’m like Sweden and Guatemala. Neutral.”
I stared at him. “It wasn’t a question.”
He held his hands up. “Whoa. No need to beat the crap out of me. I’m just a fat dude eating candy, man. Calm down.”
“He’s my brother, Badger. Tell me.”
He looked at me and knew I was serious. “Cascade Creek Trailer Park. Taylor Avenue. Space twenty-seven. And if you don’t mind me elaborating a tad bit, I would offer that you might have a slight issue with visiting violence on people for reasons not usually condoned as worthy. That and killing small animals sometimes precipitate becoming a serial killer. Does your mother know you are a pre–serial killer?”
“Thanks.”
“You didn’t hear it from me, man. Just don’t sneak in my room one night and jab my eyeballs out with an ice pick.”
“No sweat.” I turned to the door.
“Hey, Tate?” Badger called.
“Yeah?”
“Porkchop is … odd.”
I looked at him for a moment, then
“Yes.”
“Indy around?”
“No.”
“Out skating?” I looked around. Then I saw it. Indy’s board. Snapped in half and lying on the carpet. The war had already been waged. “Holy shit,” I blurted out. “What happened?”
“Watch your mouth,” he growled.
I took a breath. “Yessir. Sorry.”
A moment passed, and he cleared his throat. “Your brother is not living here anymore.”
Silence. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“We decided it would be in his best interests if he left.”
“Where’d he go?”
“That’s not my concern. He chose not to abide by my rules, and he’ll pay the consequences.”
“Where’s Mom?”
“Out.”
I sighed. “She’s pissed at you?”
He swiveled his head to me. “Not your business, Tate.”
“God, Dad, what happened?”
He furrowed his brow, his thick neck flushed from the booze and his eyes fierce. “Let it go if you’re smart.”
The tone in his voice told me everything I needed to know. “Sure. You need anything?”
“Another beer.”
I went to the fridge and grabbed a beer for him, not wanting to, but not wanting to have my head ripped from my neck, either. I handed it to him.
Silence.
I grabbed my board, heading toward the door. I turned back, looking at him. “Hey, Dad?”
He didn’t look at me. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
He slowly nodded. “So am I, son.”
I left then, heading out to find Indy. The first place I went was Under the Bridge, but he wasn’t there, so I headed to the Hole in the Wall, where Badger sat behind his counter eating Tootsie Rolls. He popped one in his mouth. “He said you’d come skulking around here.”
“Where is he?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. He said if he told me, he’d have to have you kill me.”
“Come on, Badge.”
“Totally serious. He came in, asked if he could stay in the back; I told him I wasn’t running a youth hostel and that it might look like I was boffing a teenager; he bought a new board and then left. But he made me promise on the rocker oath that I wouldn’t tell.”
“A new board?”
“Yeah. Nicest one I’ve built in a long time. Birdhouse trucks, fine deck, the whole shot. He paid my Visa bill this month.”
I shook my head. I knew he didn’t have money for it. At least honest money. “Who was he with?”
“Nobody.”
My mind reeled through everybody he knew. Piper and Sid would be a decent bet, but he’d know I’d come looking.Maybe that guy Will. My heart sank at the thought of that. Then there was Porkchop, a guy he knew well enough but who I’d never met. Before he quit smoking, Indy got his stuff from him. I didn’t know exactly where he lived, though. “You know a guy named Will?”
“No. Never heard of him.”
“What about Porkchop?”
He nodded. “Porkchop Jones. Went to school with him back when, and he gets me my smoke. Dope dealer.”
“Where does he live.”
He shook his head. “I don’t answer questions that get me involved in family issues, dude. Sorry. I’m like Sweden and Guatemala. Neutral.”
I stared at him. “It wasn’t a question.”
He held his hands up. “Whoa. No need to beat the crap out of me. I’m just a fat dude eating candy, man. Calm down.”
“He’s my brother, Badger. Tell me.”
He looked at me and knew I was serious. “Cascade Creek Trailer Park. Taylor Avenue. Space twenty-seven. And if you don’t mind me elaborating a tad bit, I would offer that you might have a slight issue with visiting violence on people for reasons not usually condoned as worthy. That and killing small animals sometimes precipitate becoming a serial killer. Does your mother know you are a pre–serial killer?”
“Thanks.”
“You didn’t hear it from me, man. Just don’t sneak in my room one night and jab my eyeballs out with an ice pick.”
“No sweat.” I turned to the door.
“Hey, Tate?” Badger called.
“Yeah?”
“Porkchop is … odd.”
I looked at him for a moment, then
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