A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [76]
He went into his house and washed his hands. As he came down the walk, Mrs. Jukas shuffled onto her porch and called to him. She had lost a lot of weight. Her head trembled, and as she leaned on her cane with both hands, the front of her housecoat parted, revealing her sagging underpants. She needed coffee and orange juice, whatever brand was cheapest. She’d pay him now or later, whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter. Later was fine, he said, pleased that she wanted his help. Have a good day, he said, but she was already on her way back inside.
After work he rang her doorbell. Waiting, he was shocked by the mess on her porch. Cigarette butts, Styrofoam cups, empty cans, crumpled fast-food bags. He was kicking some of it into a pile when the door opened.
“How much?” she asked, taking a coin purse from the pocket of the same housecoat she had been wearing that morning. She paid him, and before she could close the door he asked for a bag to put this mess in.
“Don’t bother,” she said.
“It’s no bother. It’ll take me a second, that’s all,” he said, pushing another pile together.
“I don’t even care. Do what you want. I’m too tired,” she muttered, closing the door.
He went home, then came right back with a broom and a trash bag. He had just finished sweeping when Feaster’s SUV pulled up. Polie ran across the street and banged on Jada’s door. Inside, Jada’s dog was barking. When no one came, he peered in her window, knocked a few times, then returned to the SUV. Feaster got out then and came up Mrs. Jukas’s walk as Gordon came down the steps with the broom and bag. He asked Gordon if he’d seen Jada or her mother around. He hadn’t. Not for a couple of days, anyway.
“Look, do me a favor, will you?” Feaster said, scribbling on a piece of paper. “Give her this. Her mother. Tell her it’s the new number.”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean, no? It’s a fucking cell phone number, that’s all. Here.”
Gordon walked past him.
“You can’t do me a favor, is that what you’re saying?” Feaster fumed as he followed him onto the porch. “Is that what you’re saying? You can’t do this one fucking simple little thing, is that what you’re saying?”
Gordon tried to open his door, but Feaster stepped in front of it. Polie lumbered up the walk in his huge flapping sneakers.
“Is that it? Is that what you’re saying?” Feaster demanded.
“I didn’t say anything,” Gordon said, head lowered, staring.
“You don’t get it. See, I’m, like, tryna help her, that’s all. When she gets this strung out she doesn’t care. She’s crazy. She’d slit your throat for a nickel and not even know you. Just give her this.” Eyes gleaming, he offered the paper again.
“No.”
“Take the fucking paper,” Polie growled, the club by his leg.
“I got a better idea,” Feaster said. “How’s this? You don’t wanna give her the number, so we’ll just sit here and wait till she comes home.”
Feaster pulled two chairs close to the railing and sat down, hands behind his head, his feet up on the railing. Polie sat next to him and did the same.
Inside, Gordon sat on the couch with the bag of trash in his lap. He felt sick to his stomach. He could handle Thurman, but these two were liable to pull a knife or gun on him. He could hear them laughing and calling out to people. A cruiser hadn’t been by in days, and now two were racing around the corner, sirenless but with lights spinning. They turned at the corner and were gone.
A few minutes later a car pulled into the driveway. Dennis was halfway across the lawn when he stopped.
“Nice car,” Feaster said to him as Gordon came to the door.
“Who’re you?” Dennis asked, chin out.
“I got a better question. Who’re you?” Feaster said, and Polie giggled.
Gordon held the door open.
“What’s going on?” Dennis asked him.
“They’re waiting. The woman across the street, they’re waiting for her,” Gordon said with an awkward gesture. He hoped Marvella didn’t show up now with Dennis here. “Are you going to come in?” He opened the door wider.
Dennis came inside, then