Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Selkie
The silence in the car is unnerving. Oscar is staring straight ahead, his expression bland, his eyes shuttered. Again, I marvel how different he is from Henri. I can tell exactly how she’s feeling even before she opens her mouth, which actually is rarely closed.
But Oscar. So much like his dad, I feel sad. Eight is the hottest man in the world—
Really? Brain interrupts.
Shut it, Brain. I reply.
Where was I? Yeah, Eight, sexy, world, but… he’s so inside himself that he can’t even figure out how to interact with his son.
“How’s your small talk, Oscar?” I ask.
“Small talk?”
“Yeah, like, how was your day? Did you do anything interesting at school? Do you have homework? Is it done? Burgers or hotdogs for supper? If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?”
He thinks for minute, then says. “School was horrible. There’s this kid named Henri who won’t leave me alone.
Always picking on me and I can’t hit her because she’s a girl.
” He turns slightly towards me. “No school, no homework because I got expelled because of Henri. Burgers or hotdogs. I don’t care. ” He shrugs like he really doesn’t.
I grin at my little win. “And your three wishes?”
He masks his expression and turns in his seat so he’s looking out the window again. “I’ll have to think about that.”
“Fair,” I reply.
He glances at me again. “What are your three wishes?”
Only three? I have so many wishes, and I can’t seem to make even one come true.
I decide to share my biggest wish. “I wish I had a home of my own instead of living at my mother’s.”
“You live with your mom?”
“Yeah. Weird isn’t it?”
“At your age, yeah.”
“I’m not ancient, kid.”
The silence stretches for a moment, then Oscar breaks it. “Would you take Henri with you or leave her at your mom’s?”
I screw up my face as I think it over. It’s such a good question. “Take her with me of course.”
“Why don’t you have your own house?”
“Well. I’m pretty broke so I can’t afford to buy one. And I have too many other priorities. Have you seen my car?”
That elicits a small smile. “My dad has a house.”
“It’s yours too.” I look over at him as I brake hard at a red light.
“It was mom’s too,” he ventures.
I swallow, thinking about how badly I put my foot in the shit back at the campsite. “Yeah,” I mumble so I don’t repeat history.
“She died,” he says.
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “I was a baby so it doesn’t matter.” By the look on his face, it does matter, a lot. But I don’t respond because I can’t think of the right words.
The conversation’s over anyway and he closes himself off again as the light turns green.
I make a right turn and pull up to the curb in front of mom’s house. “See,” I say. “That’s small talk.”
He nods as he steps out of the car and stares at the garishly pink house. “I see why you want a house of your own.”
I laugh. “After you meet my mother, you’ll understand how really desperate I am.”
Mom’s not home when we get inside, but Brambles is and he’s stoked to see Oscar. Once again, I’m shredded cabbage.
Oscar boxes with him until the dog settles, then he straightens up. “So what’re we gonna do?”
I think of how badly I need a job, but I can’t take Oscar with me to track down criminals and I can’t leave him alone so I’m fucked. “What do you do when you’re at home or the clubhouse?”
He shrugs as he steps into the living room and looks around curiously. “Hang with my friends, do some gaming.”
I almost say that Henri has a PlayStation 4 and he can use that, but it’s in her bedroom and she likes the Sims and other cozy games, which might give Oscar more ammunition to use against her. Also, I don’t think I should let Henri’s worst enemy invade her privacy.
“I guess we’ll have to do something together then. Like…” I try to think about what Henri and I did together lately. Nothing, Selkie. Not lately.
Fuck off, goddamn conscience.
“Do you like murder houses or escape rooms?”
His eyes light up, but he says casually, “I don’t mind them.” Like Henri, he’s at the be-cool stage of life.
Just then mom arrives.
“Selkie,” she calls. “What’s your car doing here? I thought you were camping.”
“Hi to you too, mom,” I say as she tracks me down.
“Elle,” she reminds me absently as her eyes travel to Oscar. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Oscar mumbles as he takes a small step backward.
“Relax,” I say. “She’s not going to hug you. Ten years from now, maybe. But not now.”
“I’m Elle,” mom says. “And you are?”
I fill in the blank. “Oscar Brody.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Nathan’s son?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles.
“Interesting,” mom says. “And where might Henri be?”
“Eight and I traded kids.”
Her eyes flick between me and Oscar. “Forever?”
“Thinking about it,” I reply.
“No way,” Oscar says.
I look at him. “Sadly, your opinion won’t get you far with my mother.”
“Elle,” she reminds me with a glare. To Oscar, she says, “Please call me Elle. Not gramma.”
He scowls. “I wasn’t gonna call you gramma.” His tone implies he isn’t going to call her anything.
He turns to me with desperation in his eyes. “Should we go to the murder house now?”
Mom talks over him. “If anyone asks, you tell them I’m Selkie’s sister and you’re her son.” She pauses like he’s an idiot. “Which would make me your aunt.”
I sigh. “Mom… Elle, the only one who would ask is Tyler and he knows that I only have Henri.”
“Who’s Tyler?” Oscar asks.
“He’s her boyfriend, but he’s like 35 or something, so she doesn’t want him to know she’s 49.”
“Selkie, you don’t tell people my age. It’s gauche.”
“I doubt Oscar cares.”
“He might tell his dad.”
As if, but I nod anyway. “Fair”
Oscar touches my elbow. “About that murder room?”
“Yeah. But we should shower first, get the camping smell off us.”
“You can use my shower, Oscar,” mom says sweetly.
“Alternatively, he can use the main shower and I’ll use your shower.”
“Or that,” mom replies. She heads to the kitchen. “I’m having crackers, pork liver pate and red pepper jelly for lunch. I’ll make some for you too, Oscar.”
Oscar screws up his face. “Henri eats that stuff?”
I shake my head. “Henri would starve to death first. She’s a hamburger and hot dog kind of girl.”
He grabs his backpack off the floor. “I’ll go shower, then maybe we could get a burger on our way to the murder house.”
Poor boy looks desperate to escape. I expect I have the same expression on my face.
Oscar’s still showering when I’m finished.
I shove my hair into a ponytail, check my face in the mirror and grimace.
Then I take advantage of the kid’s absence and flip open my laptop to check the Bail Enforcement Agency’s website.
There’s no one from Hell’s Jury on it, which will keep me from temptation.
I can’t hunt down one of those boys. Not while Henri’s in their possession.
Or could I? I mean why not? Mom seems totally on board with keeping Oscar.
I shake my head. Despite her crazy, I still love Henri.
Or do I?
Yes. Of course I do.
There are a couple of small-time bail jumpers on the list. Easy to track down, but not worth the gas. Then a gangbanger catches my eyes. Reese Toper. A member of the 311 Boys, a white boy group of pricks who have more money than brains.
I click on his picture and all the particulars come up.
Wanted for burglary and aggravated assault.
Toper is always in trouble. He has a shit temper that he can’t control.
I’ve never bagged him, but my competitors have.
He’ll be a prize and I need to get to him first. The payday would send me and Oscar on a trip to Disneyland.
I mean, me and Henri.
I wonder if I can ditch Oscar for a while. Maybe take him to the murder room and then when the lights go out, sneak off. He probably won’t miss me for a couple of hours.
“Who’s that?”
I jump as Oscar looks over my shoulder.
“Don’t sneak up on me. I have quick reflexes and a reckless fist.”
“I’ll file that away,” he replies sounding like his dad. “What’re you doing?” He grabs a chair and pulls it up next to me.
“I was looking at the wanted list for bail jumpers and other deadbeats. I’m a Recovery Agent. I track down criminals and—”
“You’re a bounty hunter. That’s cool.” He points to the picture on the screen. “That dude’s bad news. You should keep your distance from him.”
It’s like hearing Eight’s voice in my head. “I’ve got a gun and mad fighting skills. Also a license. It’s my job.”
“His gang will have his back. You arrest him, they’ll track you down.”
I scowl at him. “They won’t mess with me.”
He scowls back. “Because you’re a superhero?”
Sarcasm. I can’t wait to tell Eight that Henri’s rubbing off on his son. “No, because he’s small time. It’s not like in the movies.”
“What about Henri? They could easily get to her.”
I look at him. “Have you met my daughter?”
“Fair point,” he says with a slight smile. He looks at the picture again. “Maybe dad could help.”
I’m starting to get cranky with my mini-misogynist companion. “I’m capable of doing this on my own.”
I just gotta separate Toper from the pack.
“Well, if you’re going to do it, you gotta get him alone.”
Jesus. “Thanks, Einstein.”
At least he has the sense to look sheepish. “Sorry.”
“I’ve gotta jump on this fast or my competitors will get there before me.” I try to look placating. “You understand, right? You stay here for a few hours. Watch TV.”
“Uh, that’s a no,” Oscar says. “The rule is you can’t ditch me.”
“Yeah but think about it. There’s no way your dad would ever take you on one of his jobs.”
“Probably not, but that’s different don’t you think?”
He’s right. “Fine. I take you with me, you stay in the car.”
“Sure.” He heads towards the door. “Are we taking Brambles?”
“There is no we, kid,” I reply. “And yes, I’m taking Brambles. I always do.”
As we head to the car, Oscar says, “I know where you might find him. I heard that he and some of his gang hang out at Ted and Jerry’s Casino and Pool Hall.”
Makes sense. Ted and Jerry’s Casino is a seedy little place in a rough area of Reno that caters to lowlifes and men and women with gambling addiction. “Is he even old enough?”
Oscar squints at me. “If bad guys followed the rules, you’d never make any money.”
True that.
As we get into the car, I say to Oscar, “Don’t mention this to your dad. I gotta feeling he’d flip out knowing I took you into a dangerous situation.”