A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [163]
“Come on!” he said when she came to the door. He grabbed her arm, and she jerked back.
“What’d you do to Leonardo? You drowned him, didn’t you.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Tell me and I’ll go.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “All right?”
“Fuck you!” she cried. So Thurman hadn’t lied.
He grabbed her and steered her down the stairs.
“Why? Why’d you do that?” Her voice broke as she struggled to hit him. “He was just a little dog, a puppy.”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” He pushed her into the Navigator.
Feaster turned up the music. He bobbed his head to the beat and twirled his straggly chin hairs. His silky blue shirt clung to his knobby shoulders. The back of Polie’s neck glistened with sweat. He kept glancing at her through the mirror. The Volvo was parked in the weeds by the canal. Feaster turned down the music. They drove by to be sure.
“Maine. It’s them.” Polie gestured at the license plate.
“So where’d you take him?” Jada leaned forward between the seats, then repeated the question when he didn’t answer.
“Someplace. I don’t know. The river.” Polie glared at her.
“Take who?” Feaster asked.
“My little dog, Leonardo. The asshole drowned him.”
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Feaster looked at him in disbelief.
“Marvella, she said to. She hated that dog. And the smell, it was making her sick.”
Jada sat back. Her mother had done this, had killed the one thing she loved. They could do whatever they wanted, and nothing would ever stop them. A deadness came over her, but it felt good. Walls went up, windows slammed shut, doors closed. Nothing was ever going to work out, and knowing that with such absolute certainty was almost a relief. There was nothing in her heart, no ache or prayer to say. The sunstruck brick of the mills kept flashing by in this wild orbit, ’round and ’round in the purple rocket, no cops, the right car, crazy the way they even stopped for red lights, but they were alive and she was not.
“Here.” Polie shoved back a plastic bag. “Take out five rocks. Fifty’s theirs.” He parked by a weedy lot on the corner and told her they’d be giving her five hundred dollars. This time count it first, Feaster instructed.
Her hand felt numb as she removed the five rocks and put them in her pocket. “How come only five?” she asked, struggling to care as she shoved the bag inside her underpants. Pride was all she had left, but it was burning up the last of her energy.
“Jesus!” Feaster groaned. “Tell her, will ya tell her?”
“After that last fuck-up,” Polie said, smirking at her in the mirror, “you’re lucky you’re getting—”
“She’s not getting rid of it,” she interrupted, smiling. “She won’t. I know she won’t.”
Feaster spun around. What was she waiting for, cops? Get out! Now! he told her.
She walked slowly, kicking stones as she went. She looked back and waved. Actually, cops would be perfect right now. Arrest Polie and then her mother would be too far along to get rid of it. “Bastard, no-good bastard,” she muttered, approaching the car. A baby was screaming. The driver rolled down the window. It smelled inside: dirty diapers and sour milk.
“Hey!” the driver said. He was older than she’d expected. Thin gray hair, gray mustache. The woman was young and skinny. Her eyes settled on Jada’s with a glassy vacuity. She tried to smile, but her mouth only hung open, drooling. In back, a little girl sobbed, her pale, sweaty head turned against the car seat. “Shut up!” the driver screamed at the frantic child, making her cry louder. “Whatcha got?” he asked Jada, checking the street in his mirror.
“I don’t know. What do you got?”
“Here.” He handed her a wad of new bills folded in half. “Jesus, do something, will you?” he snapped at the woman.
“What?” the woman shrieked with a hounded look. “Do what?”
“Sounds like she’s sick. She’s got a fever or something,” Jada said as she tried to count. The piercing cries seared like a hot knife through Jada’s numbness. Desperate, crackhead assholes, bringing their baby. What if the cops come? Don’t they care? No, this