When It All Comes Down to Dust (Phoenix Noir Book 3) Page 6

“Yeah. Of course.”

  “Well, usually when I do that it’s a technique...”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get pissed yet. Listen, okay? Usually, when I want information from somebody, I tell them something about me. Just a little bit, a little bit of personal stuff, and it makes them feel like I’m their friend. They think we’re sharing something. And after that, they’ll tell me everything I want to know. Sometimes I won’t even have to ask them, it just spills out because they think we’re intimate.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I tried to do that with you last night, but I didn’t have to, because you told me what I wanted to know anyway. And after you’d done that, I still told you my damn life story. Hell, I never do that. Most of my friends don’t know as much about me as I told you last night.”

  “Why did you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what that was about. I don’t know what it means, except it means I really want to see you again.”

  “You will. Since your article’s probably made me unemployable, we’re going to dinner someplace nice, and you’re paying.”

  He laughed. “That seems fair.”

  Now, as she got on 202 and headed for Tempe, she tried to get her head around everything that had happened since she’d left her apartment the night before. Twelve hours ago, she’d considered herself David Regier’s sworn enemy. Now it looked like she was dating him. What the hell, maybe I’ll start hanging out with Frank once they spring him...

  She was almost shocked to find herself having a sense of humor about Frank’s parole. She couldn’t believe how good a mood she was in, compared with the state of her life.

  Tubby Franklin began meowing indignantly before she even put her key in the door. As soon she was inside the apartment, he ran to his food bowl and stood beside it, glaring balefully at her.

  “Oh, shut your stripy face. You’re a cat. You can’t tell the time. You don’t actually know your breakfast’s late...” But the guilt trip was working on her. She gave him some wet food along with the dry.

  There was a new message on her answering machine. “Hi, Laura, this is Todd at Keating Accounting. Please give me a call at...”

  She knew she had the job. She was still going to make David pick up the tab for as much sushi as she could keep down.

  THREE

  Frank recognized nothing. The weight of the sunlight was the same as it had been, and the dryness of the air, but everything else seemed new. Twenty years ago Phoenix was a town, a town that everybody said had a future, a town that was growing. But it was still a town.

  Now it was something else, and Frank couldn’t name what it was. The papers called it a city, and that seemed right, kind of, because it was as big as a city, bigger than most cities. So big, so big, as he rode the bus through it he couldn’t tell where it used to end, and now it seemed like it might not ever have an end. But he didn’t think it could be a city, because he’d seen pictures of cities, and this didn’t look like a city at all. There were streets and streets and streets and streets, but no people on them, just empty sidewalks furious with sunshine, and roads crammed with vehicles, growling, urgent, trying to get past each other, not wanting to wait for anything. No stores or houses or bars, just strip malls and empty sidewalks under the sun and oh it was strange strange strange strange strange and he was here, he was free and oh thank you thank you thank you.

  The guy in charge at the halfway house had been in the military. “You know why they call this a halfway house?” he asked Frank.

  “Because it’s halfway from being in prison to being free.”

  “You’re half-right. It’s called a halfway house because it’s halfway to being a part of the community and halfway back to prison. Whichever way you choose to go is up to you. I hope you’ll make the right choice.”

  “I hope so too. I want to.” Frank wondered how many times the guy had delivered this recitation. He knew he should find the guy pompous and obnoxious, but he was so happy to be where he was that the feeling he had for him was stronger than fondness and just short of love.

  The guy must have picked up on that feeling, because even though he was revolted by the very idea of Frank, he found himself slapping him on the shoulder and saying, “Well, we’ll do all we can to support you. We want you to do well. I’m on your side – unless and until you mess up.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My God... Do you always eat this much?” said David.

  “Not if I’m paying for it,” said Laura.

  They were in Haiku, a sushi place in North Scottsdale, and Laura had just ordered for the third time.

  “I’m sincerely wishing I’d never written that article.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “I should have offered to pay your rent instead of take you to dinner. It’d be cheaper.”

  Later, when the bill had come and David had paid it, Laura said, “You know that was the least you could have done, considering how hard it is to get a job when an article tells everybody the worst things you’ve ever done.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He took her hand, squeezed it. “Sorry.”

  “By the way, I got a job. I start on Monday.”

  He looked at her. She kept her face straight. Finally he said, “I have gazed upon the face of evil, and its name is Laura Ponto.”

  Driving again, my God, driving again, and he remembered how to do it. Not like they say about riding a bike, it didn’t come back that easily, but, my God, it came back, it really did. First turn on the ignition and it comes on, nothing new he needed to do there, this car had been built even before he went to the joint. Just turn on the ignition, yeah, and it comes alive, and now put it in reverse, and is the gas the pedal on the right or the left? Oh, he couldn’t even remember, but yeah, he did remember, it was the one on the right, on the right, and when he pressed on it the car jumped, then pushed backwards, yeah, and then he put it in drive and then it all came back and he didn’t need to think about it as he rolled out of the lot and onto the street, he could still drive, oh my God it was so good.

  David lay on Laura’s couch, petting Tubby Franklin. “I really want to get a cat,” he said.

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I’m hardly ever at home, I work so much. It wouldn’t be fair to leave a cat by itself for so long.”

  “You could always get two of them. Get a couple kittens from the pound, and they can keep each other company.”

  “Yeah, I never thought of that. I think I will.”

  “You should. They’re killing millions of them every year. I’ve thought about getting another one, but Tubby Franklin’s so territorial, I don’t think it would work. I’m gone a lot of the time too, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s always been pretty solitary.”

  “Did you get him at the pound?”

  “Yeah, of course. I wasn’t gonna buy one for hundreds of bucks when I could save one from getting killed for forty.”

  “You know I have to ask you about his name, right?”

  “Yep.” Laura was sitting on the floor by the couch. “You’re not the first. I got him when I lived in Chattanooga, and everybody in the South has a dumb name...”

  “Bigot.”

  “Nope, a bigot talks shit about a place and its people out of ignorance. I talk shit about Tennessee from having living there. Most places, no matter what the stereotype is, you spend enough time there and you start to see past the stereotype. But in Tennessee there is nothing but the stereotype.”

  “Uh-huh. So, Tubby Franklin...?”

  “In Tennessee, a person’s name won’t be, say, William ‘Bill’ Smith, with ‘Bill’ being the nickname, obviously – in Tennessee, the name, the actual name on the birth certificate, will be Bill William Smith.”

  “You mean the first name’s Bill and the middle name’s William?”

  “I shit you not. And there is a gentleman in the fine city of Chattanooga whose real name is Tubby Franklin M
erridew.”

  “Dear God.”

  “Check him out if you don’t believe me – he’s the editor of the local paper, and, Chattanooga being Good Ol’ Boy Central, he’s also on the Chamber of Commerce. And he writes speeches for local politicians.”

  David laughed. “That’s so blatant, you almost have to admire it.”

  “I know. That’s how I felt. At first I was disgusted but then I got to be amused. Anyway,” she said, motioning towards Tubby Franklin, “I got his stripy ass from the pound, and, even though he came from kitty Death Row, he had such an entitled, aristocratic attitude, I just had to name him after Mr. Merridew.”

  “That is so cool. I’ve actually thought about getting a pet pig just so I can name it Jerry, after my editor.”

  The Denny’s was on the corner of Camelback Road and 24th Avenue. Frank parked his car and went inside and got a seat in a booth at the window. The waitress came over, and she actually called him “Hon,” and he ordered coffee, and then he looked at the menu, at all the different food he could choose from, and he wanted all of it, but he finally ordered a chicken-fried steak. When the waitress asked him if he wanted soup or salad, he though she was saying “super salad”, and he said yes, and then she asked which of the two he wanted, and he got it, and asked for soup.

  It was French onion soup and it was so good, and so was the steak, even though probably nobody else would have thought so. Frank chewed each mouthful slowly, not wanting it to be over. When he’d eaten everything on his plate, he wanted to order another one, but he knew he was too full to be able to eat any more, so he just ordered more coffee and looked out of the window as he drank it, looked at the night, at what he had now, at what he might have.

  His wristwatch told him it was time to head back to the halfway house. He paid his bill and left a tip, and the waitress said, “Come back and see us soon, hon,” and Frank said, “I will.”

  Laura lay in bed, on her side, as David held her from behind. The light was off, and a scented candle flickered on the nightstand.

  “What time do you need the alarm set for?” Laura said.

  “Whenever.”

  “Damn, I want to be you when I grow up.”

  “Hey, I have to work plenty. I just get to set the hours. Unlike a certain drain on society...” He kissed her bare shoulder.

  “Shut up. As of Monday, I’ll be a serf. Eight till five.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. And those were the hours I put in at Capital Habeas. At least those hours. It’s called working for a living.”

  “Hey, I’m not afraid of hard work. Doesn’t scare me at all. I can lie down right beside it and go to sleep.”

  “Speaking of sleep, I need to.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Sure you do. So I guess that’s not your cock I feel getting hard against my ass?"

  Before he could answer, she pressed back against him, and he started a laugh that turned into a groan. Then she moved again, and he felt how wet she was, and then he was inside her.

  Frank lay on the dark in the institutional bed, a sheet covering his body, his cock in his hand. As he stroked it, he didn’t think about any of the things he knew people would expect him to think about. He thought about a woman, not a child, not at all, and it was okay, he came, and after he came he lay there and felt the spreading stain on the sheet turn cold in the air-conditioned chill, and he thought about having someone’s arms around him, someone who loved him.

  Laura told David she wasn’t going to be able to come again, because she was sore from the relentless fucking they’d done earlier, but it still felt good to have him moving inside her, his hand on her flat stomach as he lay behind her, his mouth close to her ear, talking to her quietly. Eventually he pulled out and came all over her ass. She pressed herself into him, rubbing the come into their skin.

  She actually hadn’t come at all tonight, but she had pretended to, because she didn’t want to have to explain to David — or, worse, not explain to him — why she didn’t. The first time they had gone to bed together, her orgasms has been intense. It was always that way when she fucked strangers, or men she liked okay but could take or leave. That could sometimes last a while, even years, for as long as the guy saw no more of her than she wanted him to. It wasn’t like that with David now, and she liked it and hated it.

  She fell asleep without saying anything. He watched her for a little while, then leaned over and blew out the candle.

  Frank had always loved to sleep, but he didn’t feel that way anymore. In the joint, his favorite time of day had been the moment just after the lights went out, when it felt as though the darkness was absolute, something no one could see through, falling on him and protecting him, keeping everything else away. He would close his eyes and try to fall asleep quickly, before he felt compelled to open his eyes and realize that they had adjusted to the dark and he could see everything and that anyone who wanted to hurt him would be able to see him too.

  Now he didn’t need the dark, and he didn’t want to sleep. He lay there with his eyes open, and he loved that he could see the outline of every item in the little room, see the shadows on the wall and the weak light from the street lamps coming through the window. He didn’t want to sleep, because he was happy, and because he wasn’t scared. He had everything, streets and diners and strangers who called him “Hon” and didn’t hate him, and it was so good he didn’t want to let go of it even for a little while, because dreams could never be as good as this. But when sleep finally came to take him, gently pulling him away from it all, it was okay and he was still happy because he knew he wouldn’t sleep for long and it would all be waiting for him when he returned.

  Laura woke at five. It was still dark. She lay awake for almost an hour, enjoying David’s warmth as she watched the windows start to lighten. She hadn’t closed the blinds, but, even when sunlight was filling the room, David still didn’t wake. Laura got up, put on her sweats and running shoes, tied her hair back in a pony tail, ate a granola bar, drank some water. Then she drove to A-Mountain and did her usual workout. When she got back to her apartment, David was still asleep. She drank about a liter of water, then ground some beans and brewed coffee.

  Coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee, Frank was drinking coffee and it felt so good.

  She took a shower while the coffee was brewing. She toweled herself dry, put on a robe, used her hair-dryer. She poured two cups of coffee and went to the bedroom. David still wasn’t fully awake, but he looked like he was getting there.

  “Hey,” she said. “Want some coffee? It’s Fair Trade, so even a hippie like you can drink it.”

  “Thanks,” he slurred as she handed him a cup. He took a sip. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Glad you like.”

  “You’ve had a shower already? I wanted to take a shower with you.”

  “You snooze, you lose. I not only have taken a shower – while your lazy ass was hogging my sheets, I was running up A-Mountain and doing fifty push-ups.”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding. Please tell me you can’t really do fifty push-ups after running up a mountain.”

  “Sure can. Wanna feel my muscles?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Damn right. Life has thrown me my share of humiliations, but I never thought I’d have a girlfriend who could beat me at push-ups.”

  “Girlfriend? You think of me as your girlfriend, huh?”

  “Not really. That just kind of slipped out. But I’d like to.”

  “Like to what?”

  “Think of you as my girlfriend.”

  “Oh.”

  “‘Oh’? That’s all I get? I open my little heart, and all I get is an ‘Oh’?”

  “Calm down, you goddamn drama queen. I got up and made you coffee. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Hmph. Maybe.”

  “Also, you think I always have Fair Trade coffee?”

  “Don’t you?”


  “No. I normally donate to exploitation of the Third World as a matter of routine. I got the Fair Trade stuff so I wouldn’t have to listen to your hippie bitching.”

  “Seriously? You got it for me?”

  “You sure you never went to college? Yeah, I got it for when you come over. And I got a big bag of it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I guess what that means is that if you want to consider me your girlfriend, it’s cool with me.”

  They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

  “Wow. I can tell people I met my girlfriend when I exposed her history of criminal violence and abuse of power.”

  “I can tell people my boyfriend is a muck-raking scumbag who helped ruin my career.”

  “At least you didn’t beat me up.”

  “Not yet.”

  Later, after David had taken a shower and they were heading out to have breakfast, she asked him what he was doing the next day.

  “Tomorrow’s Friday... Shit, I’m meeting a source.”

  “Will you be available for a booty call later in the evening?”

  “That’s definitely possible. What you doing Saturday?”

  “Going to the Rhythm Room with some people you know.”

  “Who?”

  “The people you bugged the hell out of to try to get them to talk about me. My erstwhile colleagues.”

  “Ah.”

  “They’re having a kind of belated going-away party for me.”

  “Well, I don’t imagine they’d be very glad to see me.”

  “It’d be cool. I’d like it if you came along.”

  “Okay, I will, then.”

  “But if you’re gonna be around these guys, I better warn you about what they’ll ask you. I’ve been avoiding this, but... how do you feel about the death penalty?”

  “It varies. If I’m at a crime scene, I’m for it. If I’m at an execution, I’m against it.”

  Frank was eating bacon and eggs and hash browns and toast and he was drinking orange juice and he was looking at a family in the restaurant who had a little girl and her face reminded him of the face of a little girl he had once known, but that little girl was dead and this one was alive and Frank was glad she was alive and he hoped that no one would ever do anything to hurt her.