Page 29

D riving back down the canyon road and into the city, Nico shared story after story from his childhood with Ginny– mostly the many death-defying antics he and Vince had gotten up to—and they laughed so hard his faced ached.

Ordinarily, telling people about his life made him feel vulnerable, as if someone could use something he’d said against him somehow.

With Ginny, it felt good. Really good. His mother’s words were becoming truer by the minute.

That girl is a little bit magical, I think .

Maybe not just a little.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the city, they were on to his college days.

“What do you mean the bully was so drunk you moved him into the freight elevator?” she asked, eyes twinkling in anticipation.

“I mean, we moved him, and his dorm bed, and everything else we could fit from his dorm room, into the elevator. We set it up just like a tiny dorm room and then sent him to the top floor, and he never even woke up! People rode that elevator all night long, singing him lullabies and taking selfies while he snored like a baby.”

“I bet he never bullied your friends again,” she said between giggles.

“He never found out who did it. The list of people he’d pissed off was long enough to have its own zip code.”

She laughed some more of her twinkly laugh – a sound Nico was getting a little addicted to—then swiveled toward him.

“Whew! I feel like the dullest person in LA right now. The most exciting thing art history majors ever get up to is art openings full of sweaty cheese and derivative sculpture. Did you know that if you make some ordinary object, like a plug or a toaster, big enough, it automatically provides insightful commentary on the meaninglessness of modern existence?”

“I did not know that,” he said, smiling.

“Well, it’s true,” she continued. “And literally the most exciting thing that ever happened in my whole childhood was a family of raccoons using the inside of our car as a nightclub and outhouse while we snored in our tent.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, tilting his head toward her as he kept half an eye on the road. “I bet Monique would have some weird stories about you.”

“Well, sure, but she thinks the way I tie my shoes is weird.”

He winked at her. “Maybe it is.”

She drew her head back in mock offense. “It’s not! The rabbits run around the tree, or tie their ears in knots, or whatever that kid’s poem says.”

They were in slowish traffic, so he was able to give her an extra-long glance. “I like that you’re weird. Is it okay that I’m not?”

“First of all, you’re weirder than you think, buster. Second, I like how weird it is that I like you.” She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, and the tingle of it went straight to his toes. “Because I really, really hated you.”

“And now?”

“And now I like you almost as much as I hated you.”

He laughed as he reached over and squeezed her knee. She took his hand and held it as they continued to drive, and the sun had never shone more sunnily through his sunroof. It felt like sunshine liked him too.

They were only ten minutes or so from the house, and he was hoping he wasn’t just dropping her off. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to this day, or to Ginny. “Hey, should we pick up some takeout and eat it at your place?”

A triumphant grin spread in slow motion across her delicate features. “ My place, eh? If you put it that way, sure!”

“What should we get? I know a stromboli spot.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Bruno’s?”

“Yeah, you like them?”

“One of my faves.”

“They’ve been around forever. I started helping Bruno in the kitchen when I was practically a toddler.”

“So much for child labor laws.”

“Labor? My mom should’ve paid him for the free babysitting.

One time the city inspector was there. To get me out of the way, Bruno asked me to go to the back and stir the pizza sauce he’d just put on to warm.

He said I had to stir all the way to the bottom of the big pot so it wouldn’t scorch.

Only…he didn’t tell me which spoon to use.

When he and the inspector walked back there, my muddy, snotty, mosquito-bitten arm was sunk in the sauce up to my elbow, stirring and stirring with a regular-sized spoon! ”

“Mmmm,” she said, “now I’m hungry for arm Bolognese!”

He made a yuck face. “In this instance, I’m the vegetarian!” Still laughing, he picked up his phone from the console between them, used his face to unlock it, and handed it to her. “I just went there the other day, and I gave them a call first. The number should be right near the top.”

A car zipped around Nico and then tried to complete the same dangerous maneuver around a nearby semi. Just when those two drivers had worked out their pecking order, three motorcyclists began zooming between the lanes, apparently in a road race.

“Ugh,” Nico said, “traffic is nuts today.” But he was determined not to let LA’s roads dampen his unusually happy mood. “Looks like everybody wants arm Bolognese.”

When Ginny didn’t laugh or even respond, it struck him that she’d been quiet for longer than he would have expected.

The phone number should have been the third or fourth one there.

He’d even identified it as “Bruno’s.” He looked over to see her staring intently at his phone, and something about the way she was holding her back rod straight and a little toward the window sent a nervous quiver through him.

Was she trying to keep him from seeing the screen? Why?

“Not finding the number?” he asked.

She had the phone so close to her face that the tip of her nose glowed in its light. “Is it a 626 area code?”

“Uh, no. It’s…it’s, like, four blocks from you. It would be the same area code.”

“So, who would be calling from a 626?”

“A 626? Um…”

It was his brother, of course, but surely that was an old call—the one he’d had before they’d headed up to the lot.

That is, unless Vince had called again. Nico remembered with an uncomfortable jolt that he’d turned his ringer off when he’d gotten to the top of the mountain ridge.

There was nothing he found more annoying than “pings” and “dings” when he was in a place that quiet.

Had his brother tried to reach him in the meantime?

Their last conversation had been Nico yelling at Vince not to do anything about house.

He thought he’d succeeded in convincing him, but had Vince done something anyway?

He kept his tone light. “Do I have a recent call from that area code?”

“You have six.”

Six? Nico’s bones felt like they frosted over.

Just then his car spoke in her ever-chipper tone. “You have a message from Vince. Would you like me to read it?”

Before he could decline, Ginny piped up.

“Yes.” She stared at him as if challenging him to deny her this knowledge.

Nico nervously re-adjusted his hands on the steering wheel but said nothing.

Surely, Vince was just calling to tell him about his nephews’ latest antics or some change in their travel plans.

“Hey, bro,” the car began, reading the text. “I see you’re on your way back. No need to take your time anymore. It’s done.”

Nico’s blood went subzero.

She stared at him, her unnerving green eyes blinking rapidly. “What does he mean, done ?” He gestured for her to hand the phone back, but she pulled the device well out of range. “ What’s done??? ”

“I…I don't know. They’re still in Colorado. Whatever it is, though, maybe I should call him?” They were passing one of the closed-off entrances to the abandoned factory he owned, and there was a little weed-filled pull-off to the right. “I could pull over right here and?—”

“Drive!” She roughly tossed his phone into the console with one hand as she pointed her other arm in the direction of the house.

Her voice was so strained, the very act of producing a reply sounded like it was taking a lot out of her—like it would have been easier for her to slice off a limb than speak to him.

“But it really might be better if?—”

“ Drive! ”

She was squished as far away from him in the truck’s cab as a human could get, and her whole body trembled.

When she noticed him noticing it, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, but it didn’t stop the shaking.

He took a breath in preparation for one more attempt at delay, but her eyes were daggers of warning, and he gave himself up to fate.

If his brother had gone and done the worst, there was nothing for it but to get there. If there was anything left to salvage, they should get there as quickly as possible.

Why hadn’t he been clearer with Vince earlier? Why hadn’t he kept his phone on?

He gunned the engine, and they raced down the pot-holed road in silence.