Page 55 of A Week Away

I got out of the car and called Ronnie on his cellular.

“Hello.”

“It’s me.”

“You haven’t called in two days.”

“I wanted to wait until I knew when I’d be coming home.”

“No. You call me every day. I don’t care if you have nothing to say. I just need to hear your voice.”

“I’m coming home. Maybe later tonight. Probably not until tomorrow.”

“You mean home as in Long Beach. Youarehome right now, aren’t you?”

It took a moment for the penny to drop. “Oh. You mean Detroit. It’s not my home anymore.”

“I called the credit card company. I’ve been following you all along.”

“I’ve spent a lot of money. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to do that. Financially, you’ve more than held up your end. I don’t begrudge you the money.”

“But…”

“I hate not knowing where you are. And I hate sleeping alone. The silence is terrible.”

The ‘silence’ was a reference to my snoring, which, given the number of times I’d had my nose broken, was quite impressive.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Detroit. We established that.”

“I mean exactly. I hear traffic. It sounds like you’re outside.”

“I’m on a pay phone in front of a 7-Eleven.”

“That’s romantic.”

“Not really.”

“Don’t you remember? The night we met we sat in your car outside a 7-Eleven having coffee and donuts. It was like three or four in the morning.”

“I do remember. Of course, I remember. We got chased off. Right after I told you I’d killed a man.”

“See. I told it was romantic. Have you killed anyone since you got to Detroit?”

“No. I’ve been tempted though.”

“How is the kid? He’s not gay is he?”

“No. He has a Pavlovian response to attractive young women.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Where are you?” I asked.

“In my car, waiting for clients. They’re late. The house is one point two million though, so if they buy it I’ll forgive them.”