Chapter 16
ZEKE
I wasn’t sure what I’d done, or even if I’d done something.
Callum didn’t come home the night after our movie outing and his phone call, or the day after that either.
I texted him to make sure he was okay, and he texted back ~yeah, fine, doing some extra work shifts for Grandpa.
I asked how things went with his uncle, and he said the bastard was out of town.
And that was the total of our conversation for two days.
Jos got off the couch as I came in from my day shift with a bag of takeout. “Is Callum eating with us?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is he mad at me? Because I didn’t say thanks for the movie ticket?”
“Oh, no, Jos. He’s trying to help his grandfather more while his uncle’s out of town.”
“I hope his uncle stays away forever. Unless it means Callum doesn’t come over anymore.”
I gave a secret cheer because that was a pretty clear sign Jos liked Callum. “I know the feeling.”
“You two didn’t break up, though?”
We weren’t together, not really. We’d been inching that way, though. We’d said we weren’t fucking other people. “We’re fine, as far as I know. He’s been busy.”
Jos looked out the window, then pointed. “You should go help him with that stuff. Then you could ask him.”
Sure enough, there was Callum with his car trunk full of metal struts and slabs, gathering an awkward armful.
“The food will get cold.”
“So? It’s still good.”
I hesitated, but the temptation was too strong. “You eat yours, okay? I’ll be back.”
“Tell him I said thank you for the movie.”
“I will.” I passed him the bags. “Now eat.”
Callum was coming back out of his house for another load as I jogged up. “Hey,” I said. “Need a hand?”
He looked like he might refuse, then sighed. “Yeah, actually.”
“What is this stuff?” I juggled a bunch of pieces into a manageable bundle.
“Shelving units. Grandpa rearranged at the store, and he decided we should bring the old ones home for the basement.”
“Reasonable.” I waited till he had his load, then followed him up the front steps.
“Yeah, except Uncle Wayne has Grandpa’s truck somewhere, so I had to take them apart to fit them in my trunk, and now we have to reassemble them.
” He led the way inside, and down the narrow basement steps.
The Fitzpatricks’ basement was much more cluttered than mine, but no better finished.
“Put the bits over here.” He lowered his bundle to the concrete floor.
I set mine next to them. “Jos says thanks for the movie, before I forget. He was worried you thought he wasn’t grateful. Where’s Wayne? Did you get to talk to him yet?”
“Who the fuck knows? And no, I didn’t.” The muscles in his jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth. “Come on, a couple more loads.”
We dragged the rest of the components down to the basement, along with a big bag of fastenings, bolts and such. Callum looked at the heap of metal and made a face. “Okay, reassembly may not be as easy as taking this shit apart.”
Before I could volunteer to help, we heard a vehicle park in the driveway, then the front door opened and closed, and firm steps crossed the floor overhead.
“Fuck. Uncle Wayne.” Callum glowered, clenched his fists, and whirled toward the stairs, charging up two at a time.
I chased after him. At the top, he turned to block me, almost knocking me down. “I need to talk with him alone.”
“Maybe I should be there.” Steam was practically coming out of Callum’s ears, and he wasn’t the most even-tempered person at the best of times. “A neutral party.”
“Neutral? I thought you’d be on my side.”
“I am! I just meant… I don’t want you in jail for punching him.”
“I won’t. Probably not. I…” He stared intently at me. “I want you to hear. A witness would be good. But you have to promise me to be a friend, not a cop. Keep quiet and don’t tell anyone about anything.”
I almost promised, but hedged, “I’ll try. I can’t overlook, like, murder.”
Callum grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and I wasn’t sure if he meant to hit me, kiss me, or shove me out of the way.
In the end, he just said, “Stay here and keep quiet.” He stepped out into the kitchen, leaving the door ajar so I could hear and had a tiny slice of view. “Hey, Uncle Wayne. Where’ve you been?”
“Around. Don’t you have hockey to play?”
“Game’s not till tomorrow. You took Grandpa’s truck.”
“Yeah. Guy paid me two hundred bucks to help him move. I needed it.”
“Maybe Grandpa needed it too. D’you think of that?”
“The store’s three blocks. He walks to work.”
“He uses the truck to move stuff. It’s a working vehicle.”
“Keep your shirt on. I’ll pay for the gas.”
“You should give Grandpa the full two hundred. He’s been giving you room and board. You owe him.”
Wayne laughed. “Then he can ask for it, not you, Cal.”
“And if he asks, you’ll pay him?”
“You gonna snitch on me? Tell him I have money?” Wayne’s voice took on a cold edge.
Callum’s tone changed too. “Who’s Mr. Smith?”
“You don’t get to know that.”
“Do you even know his real name?”
“I know you don’t want to mess with him. He’ll fuck you up good.”
I froze, puzzling out what they might be talking about. It didn’t sound good, or simply personal.
Callum asked, “Did you put the money in my account? The bank said it was a cash deposit at an ATM with a legitimate bank card. Did you steal Grandpa’s card?”
“Steal is such an ugly word.”
“Fuck you! You stole from him before. Money, stock from the store. I don’t even know how much you took. But this time, you’re going to pull us all down with you.”
“Do you think I care? I owe Smith bigtime. He wants something? He gets it. And he wants you.”
The lurch in my gut was instinctive, a remnant of too much time spent around men who talked like that. Wants him how?
Callum’s voice got louder. “You owe Smith, so you helped him frame me, and now you think I’ll just knuckle under? What will he do to you when I win next Sunday, and he loses a bunch of money? Maybe he’ll take the losses out of your skin.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Wayne’s low tone held enough menace that I cracked the door a little wider, trying to see what he was doing.
I caught a reflection in the front of the microwave, Wayne and Callum facing off against each other at close range.
Wayne went on, “He’s not a guy you can blow off. He’ll take your career down without thinking twice. I’ll be collateral damage.”
“You’ll be back in jail. Stealing Grandpa’s card breaks your parole. Four more years.”
“You hate me enough to end your career, just so I get fucked?”
“No! I’m not going to let anybody own me. If I do this now, I’m screwed forever.”
“You’re already screwed. You can get a bunch of money and have a nice career, and lose a game here or there.
Or you can fuck Mr. Smith over now, and pay the price.
Those are your only two choices.” Wayne got in Callum’s face.
“If you think the only thing you risk is your career, you’re a moron.
Mr. Smith has ways of getting cooperation.
Think about Dad, if nothing else. Don’t make him pay for your mistake. ”
Callum barked a bitter laugh. “Oh, that’s rich, since we’re paying for your mistakes. Since when do you care about Grandpa?”
“Well, why should I? The moment you arrived, you were all he talked about. Poor little Callum and let’s give the brat everything. Do you have any idea how much of my money he spent on you?”
“What do you mean, your money? You were a grown-ass adult.”
“I’m his heir. Fifty percent, anyhow, but he was spending it on you left and right. Hockey gear and special camps and brand name sneakers and therapists and trips to Disneyland.”
“One. One fucking trip.”
“Still. He never took me there as a kid, you know?”
“So you were jealous.”
Wayne’s lip curved in a sneer. “I was disgusted. You were this sniveling brat, violent, breaking things, and he was all ‘we have to make allowances.’ I never got away with half what you did. The old man was probably getting senile already, letting you wrap him around your little finger.”
“Don’t you talk shit about Grandpa.”
“Or what? You’ll make me regret it?” Wayne grinned. “Let’s see. Queer goalie who’s fucking the neighbour assaults elderly uncle. Great headline, don’t you think?”
My stomach twisted at his words. We’d obviously been too careless, too caught up in each other, around someone who traded in secrets. I hated that Callum might pay heavily for kissing me.
Wayne said, “Got a picture through the window. I can make your life miserable, Cal.”
Callum’s face went deep red, and he slammed his hand against the cabinet door beside Wayne’s head. I saw Wayne flinch. Callum bellowed, “Get out! I don’t want you in this fucking house. Truck keys, hand them over, now, and get out!”
I thought Wayne might resist, but there must have been something in Callum’s expression that convinced him, because he threw the keys across the kitchen and slammed his way out the front door.
Callum put his back to the cabinets and slid to sit on the floor. “Shit.”
Once I was sure Wayne wasn’t coming back, I stepped out of the basement, closing the door behind me. “Are you okay?”
“Fucking peachy.” He didn’t look at me.
I settled on the floor beside him, our shoulders inches apart. “I’m so sorry he saw something between you and me.”
“My fault. You’re not in the closet. It was my job to be careful.” He sounded miserable.
“We were careful. I bet he was spying on purpose.”
“Probably. Shit, I don’t know what to do.”
“About coming out?”
“About any of it. Fuck!” He hit his thigh with a closed fist.
I said, “I think I got half of what’s going on, but it might help if you explained what he’s threatening.”
“Or not.” Callum shuddered.
I sat there, not pushing or asking anything, willing him to trust me.
After a couple of silent minutes, he said, “Okay. But remember how you promised not to tell?”