Chapter 11.

Eight-ball and House Cats Michael went over the rules for the game of eight-ball. Then he selected two cue sticks from a rack and handed one to Aaron. "That should be a good weight for you," he said. "Go ahead and break."

Aaron's body hurt him as he stretched out over his opening shot (the cardboard boxes hadn't completely broken his fall), but still he managed to drop the 10 ball on the break.

"Nice shooting," Michael said. "You're a natural." But he could see that Aaron was in his own world.

Michael recalled a story. "I have to tell you about this old lady I saw, yesterday," he began. "She was pushing a wheelbarrow down the street with a cat riding in it."

Aaron pocketed the 9 ball.

"And this was the biggest d.a.m.n cat I've ever seen! I mean this dude was big! It was raining hard, and the old lady was trying to hold an umbrella over both herself and the cat; but it wasn't working, and the cat was soaked to the skin."

Aaron followed with the 15 ball.

"But he didn't care one bit. He just rode along, minding his own business, as though it were his daily routine. It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

Aaron banked the 12 into the corner pocket, and then leaned on his cue stick and looked at Michael.

"I almost got blown away tonight, you know," he said out of the blue.

Michael was still laughing about the cat. "Uh ... what?" he said.

"Down at the old cannery near the wharf. Some filthy bank robber b.a.s.t.a.r.d tried to kill me."

"You've got to be kidding," Michael said, taking a seat on a nearby stool.

"I told you about my fight with my stepdad," Aaron said. "Well, that was true a but he didn't give me this." He pointed to his split cheek, then proceeded to tell Michael the rest of the story.

Chapter 12.

He's a Psycho Michael ran a hand through his hair. "My G.o.d, Aaron," he said, "I don't know what to say." He had never even made up a story as wild as the one Aaron had just told him. He stood and walked over to get his phone.

Aaron new immediately what Michael was planning to do. "You're calling the cops, right?" he said. "No way. No cops."

Michael looked at him. "You do know that this low-life sc.u.m will come looking for you."

"What, do you think I'm an idiot?" Aaron said. "I know, okay?" Tears welled in his eyes and he stood and walked over to the wall of windows. His face reflected in the gla.s.s as he looked out at the city lights and calmed himself for a few moments. "You don't know this man. He's some kind of psycho. If I turn him in, G.o.d only knows what he'd do to my mom." He paused. "I can't let that happen."

Michael foolishly hadn't considered that. He replaced his phone, then walked over and stood with Aaron at the window.

"Aaron, I'm sorry," he said. "What's your mother's name?"

Aaron rubbed his nose and spoke softly. "It's Ashley."

"Don't worry, Aaron. I'd never do anything that could hurt Ashley."

Chapter 13.

The Aston Michael cast around for a way to change the subject. After a moment he said, "Do you like cars?"

Aaron smiled and wiped his eyes with the backs of his fingers. "I love cars," he replied.

"Follow me," Michael said. "I have something I want to show you." Then he led Aaron down to the underground parking garage.

The garage floor glistened with moisture, and the sound of dripping water could be heard echoing in the distance. Michael and Aaron walked past two dozen vehicles of every cla.s.s and description parked in neat rows. At the end of the garage, in a s.p.a.ce tucked away from the others, they stopped next to a tungsten silver Aston Martin DBS.

Aaron's jaw dropped. "Oh my gosh ... This is yours?"

Michael held out his wrist to Aaron. "Touch your finger here," he said, indicating the little OPEN zone between eight and nine o'clock on his transponder chronograph wrist.w.a.tch.

Aaron stared at the exquisite marvel of miniaturization.

"A light touch is all it takes," Michael said.

Aaron touched his fingertip to the face of the t.i.tanium watch, and the Aston unlocked itself and its dazzling electronics sparkled to life.

"Oh my gosh!" Aaron said. "That is crazy."

"Hop in," Michael said.

Aaron opened the pa.s.senger door then hesitated, knowing he was breaking another cardinal rule; then he slid into the low-slung seat.

He looked around the interior, running his hands over the hand-st.i.tched leather and carbon-fiber accents. "This car is unbelievable," he said. "Aren't these like 300 grand or something?"

"'Sat.u.r.day Night Crash' a Have you seen that?" Michael asked.

"I loved that movie," Aaron replied.

Michael gave the steering wheel a little pat. "I can thank that movie for this car."

Aaron c.o.c.ked his head, puzzled.

"I wrote it a the book, I mean," Michael said. "My novel was adapted into the movie."

"No way!" Aaron said. "That's very cool. You know, I'm thinking about becoming a writer, too."

Michael smiled, but he had heard it a million times. It seemed that nearly everyone he talked to was either trying to become a writer or had thought about it.

"That's a worthy goal," he said finally. "My advice would be to read every day and write every day a and write for the love of writing, or you'll never be able to do the necessary work."

Aaron deflated a little.

"Maybe you and I could talk more about it sometime," Michael said, looking at him.

Aaron smiled. "That'd be great."

Michael fired up the DBS's sweetly tuned engine. "But for now, let's get you home."

From his seat behind the wheel of the white van, Needles saw the silver Aston Martin exit the underground garage and head west. It pa.s.sed under a street lamp and he recognized the boy in the pa.s.senger seat. Then he pulled away from the curb to follow.

Michael hit the gas for a few seconds to give Aaron a feel for the V-12's awesome power. Aaron giggled and held on. Needles struggled to keep pace, while at the same time trying to keep his distance.

"Do you have any brothers and sisters?" Michael asked as they approached Aaron's neighborhood.

"Nope, just me."

"Pets?"

Aaron laughed. "Yeah, like Tom would ever let me have a pet."

"I take it Tom's your stepdad," Michael said.

"Unfortunately," Aaron said, sorry for the reminder. "How *bout you? Any family?"

Michael paused. Leafing through those memories was difficult for him a talking about it only served to make it real again. But it was he who had brought up the subject and he felt obliged to follow through.

"My wife and only son were killed in an auto accident," he said. The horrible memory flooded his senses.

"Oh, wow ..." Aaron said, unprepared for such a dismal reply. But he was able to relate a at least to some degree. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Michael said. He hadn't spoken to anyone about it in years, and he felt the need to elaborate. "I wasn't with them that night. The other driver was drunk a he crossed over the center divide. Little Tyler was three; he was killed instantly. Jennie lived for 4 days." He paused for a moment to let his breath catch up. "It's been five-and-a-half years, now."

Aaron couldn't say anything, so he didn't try.

The Aston purred to a stop in front of Aaron's apartment. Aaron and Michael got out and walked up the front steps.

Michael removed a pad and pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, then scribbled something and tore out the page. "Here's my cell number," he said. "Call me tomorrow and let me know you're all right, okay?"

"Okay," Aaron said as he took the slip of paper.

Michael jotted down Aaron's number as well then raised a high-five. "You cool?" he asked.

Aaron fived him back. "Yeah, I'm cool. Thanks for the brownies."

He removed a key from under the welcome mat, unlocked the door, and replaced the key, then stepped inside and closed the heavy door behind him.

Michael laid his hand on the door and felt the grain of the wood.

"Good night, Aaron," he said.

As Michael drove away, he pa.s.sed the white van, parked across the street from Aaron's apartment.

Johnny Souther was six blocks away, cruising the streets in a black van. He picked up Needles's call and listened for a moment.

"Hold your position," he said. "I'm on my way."

Chapter 14.

Batting Practice Aaron undressed, throwing his tattered clothes in the bottom of his hamper and covering them, making a mental note to trash them in the morning. He reached for his pajamas, but thinking again he decided to remain dressed. He put on a fresh pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a clean hooded sweatshirt, socks and sneakers.

He thought of waking his mother, but he couldn't face the prospect of waking Tom. So he crawled under the covers to wait for morning.

The black van pulled up to the apartment and parked behind the white van. Johnny Souther got out and walked over to meet with his thugs. Needles filled him in then told him about the hidden key.

"Guard the exits," Souther said as he reloaded his .45. "I'll take care of the kid. Stay outside even if shots are fired, understand? No one gets in or out alive." He pulled out a large knife and checked the edge with his thumb.

The thugs nodded, and Souther motioned for them to move out. He used the hidden key to unlock the front door, then drew his gun and quietly entered the apartment.