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“It’s okay.” Kel shrugged. “My mom said it wasn’t your fault.”
“Generous of her.”
“I always pictured you different.”
“Iwasdifferent then.” Rhys felt his swollen cheek. “We met a few times when you were a kid, you know. Your mom brought you into the office to trick-or-treat. I remember one year you were a bird.”
“Angry Bird,” Kel said.
“Understandable.”
“No. I mean, from the game,” Kel said.
“Oh, right.” Kinnick looked around the apartment. “And your mom is—”
“Also angry. She’s showering now.” Kel bent forward, as if looking around a corner. “Does your face hurt?”
“Yeah. A little.” Kinnick touched his sore cheek again, which was swollen like he’d been to a vengeful dentist. “A lot,” he corrected. The Extra Strength Tylenol and the sleeping pill that Lucy had given him were wearing off. “Some guy put a dent in my cheekbone.”
Kel squinted. “Zygomatic arch.”
“How is it that everyone knows what that is except me?”
“MMA,” Kel said. “It’s a common injury for fighters. You want some cereal?”
“What kind?”
“Frosted Flakes.”
“Maybe later. Do you have any coffee?”
Kel gestured with his head toward the kitchen. Rhys wobbled as he stood up. He walked past the kid, through the dining room—pictures of Kel and his sister on the walls—and into the kitchen, where a glass pot was full of black coffee. He tried three cabinets before he found a cup. The steam felt nice on his face and he nearly wept, the coffee was so good. When this was done, he vowed to get rid of that old, stained aluminum pot of his.
Lucy came out of her bedroom in a wool dress and tights, her hair in a ponytail. “Oh, good. You found the coffee. And I see you met Mr. Kel.” She put her hands on her son’s shoulders.
“I did. He steered me to the coffee. It’s delicious, thank you.”
“Why don’t you get cleaned up. I’m going to get you situated, but then I need to go in to work.”
“Situated?”
“Yeah.” She walked away from the table to get herself a cup of coffee. “I might have found someone who can help you.”
“You did? Who?”
She glanced at her son, then said, “A retired cop. Does some detective work for law firms, finds missing witnesses, deadbeat dads, thatkind of thing. I called him and he’s up for it. He’s even had some dealings with the guys you ran into—”
“The Army of the Lord,” Kinnick said, “AOL.”
Kel laughed. “Seriously?”
“They’re apparently the militia wing for this radical church that has some kind of training compound in Idaho,” Lucy said. “They show up with their guns to Pride parades and shit like that. My friend called them ‘toy soldiers.’?”
“It was no toy I got hit with.” Kinnick put his tongue into his broken cheek. “Do I know this cop? Was he around when I was at the paper?”
“Maybe.” Lucy took a sip of coffee. Her eyes shifted to Kel and then back. “I... uh... I dated him for a while.”
“No!” Kel stood up. “You called Chuck?” He laughed as he carried his cereal bowl to the sink. “Crazy Ass Chuck! Back in the show!”