All Through the Night (6 page)
T
hree hours later Wayne woke from his drug-like stupor. He showered and dressed and walked over to Jerry’s. He was very glad indeed to find the big man up and about. Jerry heard him out in silence as Wayne stumbled over the words, about how a bet was a bet and he needed to get this thing over and done.
Together they walked over and found Foster singing in the shower. Loud and off-key and happy enough to have them both smiling. Which, given the thing Wayne had staring him in the face, was quite an accomplishment.
Foster accompanied Wayne to Orlando while Jerry babysat their cash. It was unlikely anyone would come looking for a boatload of money in the middle of a low-rent retirement community. But Jerry was by nature a cautious man.
The afternoon was hot but the humidity low for springtime Florida. Foster kept his window down on I-95, his grey hair blowing everywhere and his eyes squinted almost shut. Wayne handed over his Oakleys. Foster slipped the bug-eyed sunglasses on his face. Wayne took one look and laughed out loud.
Foster said, “What?”
“You look like a roadie for the Grateful Dead.”
“There you go again, fooling me with talk that sounds almost like English.”
Wayne hooked onto the Beach Line Expressway and shot into the Orlando sprawl. His sister’s church had recently moved to a campus near the John Young Parkway, sandwiched between the gleaming new convention center and a neighborhood straight out of a Tijuana barrio. Her outreach center was an old convenience store with a basketball court where the gas tanks had once stood. Next door was the main church building, with a free medical clinic on the first floor, where her husband the periodontist donated one day a week. The scarred asphalt parking lot sprouted a sign with doves and rainbows and a welcome in half a dozen languages.
They pulled into the lot and the first thing Wayne saw was his sister standing there with her hands on her hips, a look on her face he’d seen a billion times and more, her mouth going a mile a minute. Just handing it to a sullen kid holding a basketball, the kid a full head taller than the two dozen other kids standing and watching Wayne’s sister dish it out. And from the big grins most of the other kids wore, Wayne figured they were just loving it, watching the big kid catch it from Eilene.
Which was why, when Wayne walked over, the first thing he said was, “Lighten up, why don’t you.”
Eilene rounded on him. Like she was eleven again and he nine, and their father was out saving the world, expecting his own kids to toe the line, put on the happy-sappy face and busting Wayne’s chops because he refused to measure up. “Excuse me, did I ask for your help here?”
“The kid is sorry. Tell the lady you’re sorry, kid.”
The kid mouthed something behind Eilene’s back that Wayne was fairly certain had nothing whatsoever to do with an apology. Which had him hiding his own grin, since it was basically an act pulled from his own life. “There, see? You’ve burned him so bad he’ll never mess up again. He’ll go through life staying totally clean. Right, kid?”
Eilene snapped, “Just like you.”
“Sure thing.”
“Mister Perfect.”
“What can I say. If the shoe fits and all that.”
She surprised him then. Because the one thing Eilene never did was what Wayne asked. He had bitter experience at that.
But this time she turned to the kid and said, “The ball is for bouncing on the ground, not on other kids’ heads. Especially kids half your size.
Claro?
”
“Sí, claro.”
“Vamanos.”
Eilene surprised him again. Shocked was more like it. Had the pastor pulled a gun on her younger brother, the astonishment could hardly have been bigger.
She reached over and hugged him. Hard.
The kids clearly knew Wayne’s sister well enough to know this lady was no hugger. The chatter stopped and even the tall kid with the ball turned and stared.
Wayne did the only thing his dumbfounded brain could come up with, which was to wrap his arms around her in a feeble response.
Eilene said to his shirt, “I’ve been so worried.”
“About what?”
“Victoria called. Said you were off doing something. In the middle of the night. With Jerry and Foster your only backup.” She pushed herself out of his arms, the huggy-feely moment clearly gone. “All I could think to say was, ‘That sounds just like Wayne.’”
He just stood there, a big hulking brute in worn jeans and T-shirt and slaps. His sister always left him feeling tongue-tied and too massive for his own good. Like having muscles and speed was a sin.
Eilene said to the pavement by her feet. “I’m so sorry.”
The surprises just kept on coming. Wayne tried to recall the last time his sister gave him anything
resembling
an apology. And came up empty.
She went on, “I should never have gotten you involved in this.”
“We got it all back, Eilene. The money.”
She reached around and hugged herself. Not looking his way at all. “How many laws did you break last night?”
Now they were back on familiar territory. As in, nothing Wayne ever did was good enough. No choice ever the right one. “None they caught us at.”
She started to respond, but broke it off before the words were formed and walked over to where Foster stood beside Wayne’s truck. “You went with him?”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Foster leaned through the window, the bug-eyed shades mocking his age. “Your brother is one amazing guy. Leaps over tall buildings, takes on the world, saves the day, you name it.”
“Jerry is all right too?”
“Thanks to the kid here. Did he tell you we got it all back?”
Eilene went back to hugging herself as tightly as she had Wayne. Like the news was something to worry over.
Foster’s grin reflected a brilliant sunlit day. “Most amazing thing I ever did see. Just visited the local bank and made a substantial cash withdrawal.”
Eilene’s entire face was a frown. “My brother’s always been good with numbers and guns. It’s people he has problems with.”
Foster’s grin turned steely. “You might want to have a word with the folks whose homes your brother just saved before you give him any more heat.”
Eilene kicked at a rough spot in the pavement. “Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything.”
Wayne’s comeback was halted by seeing new worry scars on his sister’s face. He realized with a pang just how hard the last few years had been on her.
Wayne found himself recalling something he had spent a lot of time and energy stowing deep down inside himself. About what he now classed as his lost time.
Normally when the memories struck, Wayne knotted his insides into a fist. Just clamped down and forced the thoughts away. But not today. He had a vivid image of how, soon after leaving the armed forces, he had freaked out in a very serious manner. Just disappeared. Hit the road. Spent nearly two years sleeping rough. Working trench jobs when he needed. Until that morning in Santa Fe, waking up in the park under a pair of Joshua trees, when he’d been struck by two realities. Not thoughts, not imaginings, not insights. This was
real.
The first was, if he didn’t get off the road and fast, he would never make it back.
The second was, his sister was praying for him, right then. That very moment.
Which was why he had to clear his throat very hard before he could ask, “Did Victoria tell you about the bet?”
Eilene reached one hand toward Wayne and patted the air between them. “I’ve got to go make a call.”
Wayne watched the kids playing their game and spinning the ball so it danced to either side of her. She just walked forward, her shoulders hunched slightly, too worried over what was coming next to pay the game any mind.
Foster asked, “We done here?”
Before Wayne could respond, the big kid got a bad toss, or maybe the other kid actually meant to slap him in the face with the ball. As in, Eilene was still within shouting distance, so the little kid was safe. But the big kid had about as much impulse control as Wayne, because he one-handed the ball hard enough to knock the little kid on his tokus.
Eilene veered off course so fast it might have seemed to everyone else like she wasn’t just expecting it, but waiting for it to happen.
She gripped the big kid by the ear. A mean grip that had the kid howling. Walked him back to where Wayne was standing. “Julio, meet Wayne. Wayne, meet Julio.”
“Ease up on the flesh there, sis.”
“You pay off your bet in two parts.”
Wayne was already backing away. “Hold on there. One bet, one pay.”
Eilene thrust the ear forward and the kid followed. “The first part is, find some way to get through to Julio.”
“Hang on …” Wayne stopped talking because his sister was doing her steam-driven shunt across the lot and toward the center. She slammed the door hard enough to punctuate everything that had gone unsaid.
Wayne glanced at the kid. Julio was doing a professional job of pretending he could not have cared less about anything.
Foster waited until Wayne turned back around to say, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”
Foster went all silent after that. Just made his request and went so still Wayne assumed he was irritated. Probably over having to share the truck’s seat with this barrio kid. Julio, though, he acted like this was totally in the realm of normal. Having a woman pastor dump him into the hands of two strange men, who take off in a pickup and don’t speak a word.
Wayne put the kid down as a very strong fifteen. Julio was big-framed, muscular, and far too well padded for his own good. Not handsome, but he might have been if he could get his weight down by about a third. He was dressed in what probably passed for studly teen gear in the barrio—pants hanging low, baggy shirt, heavy silver chain on his neck. Semi-new Nikes, worn loose. Leather wristband with fake gemstone studs. And carrying a whole truckload of attitude.
Wayne did what Foster asked, which was to drive them to Orlando’s international airport. The multi-story parking lot sported a different cartoon animal for each floor, as though the operators assumed a family overloaded on Disney would find it assuring. Julio gave the grinning camel a sideways look, as in, he hadn’t expected this kind of twist to his day.
Foster didn’t speak until they were inside the terminal. “Give me an hour, will you?”
“No problem. Long as you need.”
“It used to be a sort of hobby, coming here. Back before they decided I was too old to drive.”
“You don’t have to explain.” Only then did Wayne realize Foster had been silent out of shame. Wayne pointed at the giant departures board. “Rendezvous here in an hour.”
He found Julio standing in a space all his own. The tide of pastel parents with their Snow White daughters and Darth Vader sons gave Julio a wide berth. These folks had traveled to Orlando for a break from reality, only to find themselves facing a kid who, if he wasn’t packing, at least knew where to arm himself faster than they could find the Disney exit. For his part, Julio watched the crowds like he would a herd of wildebeests.
Wayne walked over and asked, “You ever been to Disney World?”
“You kidding? Man, just getting in that place costs sixty bucks. I look like I got sixty bucks to you?”
Wayne spotted signs for the food court. “You want something to eat?”
“I won’t say no.” Julio fell into step beside Wayne. “So you were in the army, right? I heard your sister say that once. Where you been, man?”
“Kabul, Kandahar, southwest frontier.”
“That’s like in Iraq?”
“Close enough. What do you want to eat?”
The Orlando airport was designed to swallow crowds. Every open space was huge and high ceilinged. The food hall was a two-acre dome encircled by takeouts. “Pizza and a smoothie.”
“Go for it.”
When they had their orders and were seated at a table, the kid asked, “So you ever been shot at, man?”
“That’s a question you never ask a soldier.”
“Sure, I hear that. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Just like the joint.”
Wayne had to smile. “You know prison speech?”
“I oughtta. My old man’s doing ten to twenty at Raiford.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He took a massive bite of the pizza. “My brother. An uncle. Lessee, two aunts. And a cousin.”
“They’ve all been in prison?”
“No, man. Doing time now.”
“Get out.”
“This is for real, man.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Julio shrugged and went all quiet until he was licking the tomato sauce off his hands. “And my grandfather.”
Wayne laughed out loud. “Now I know you’re pulling my chain.”
“You think I care what you believe?”
“Okay, where?”
“My old man’s at Raiford, like I said. One aunt’s in Perry. That’s in Alabama. Brother and the other aunt are in county lockups, one on trial in Kansas City, the other in J-ville waiting for a space to open up. Granddad’s doing life in the big Q.”
Whether or not Julio was telling the truth, the geography lesson in the national penal system was impressive. “How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
“I figured you for older.”