A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [94]
“Look,” he growled, his unshaven face at hers. “You better tell me where she is.”
“She went out. I don’t know where.”
“Don’t tell me that. I don’t wanna hear it.”
“You just did.” She shrugged, then started off in the cockiest strut her shaky legs could manage.
“Little bitch.” He spun her around. “You think it’s funny?” His fingers were almost cracking her arm in two, but she wouldn’t cry. “Here!” he snarled, squeezing harder. “Here! Go ahead, laugh some more.”
She did. She threw back her head and laughed. As loud as she could, even though he was just about breaking her arm, the bastard.
“Let go of her,” Gordon said, and Feaster tightened his grip. “I said, let go of her.”
“Fuck off! You just fuck off!” Feaster warned Gordon, who was on the top step, still clutching his bags. “This has nothing to do with you! This is business! This is my fucking business, you hear me?” He hissed in her face now. “You hear what I’m saying? You better tell me where she went or I’ll cut her name all over that monkey face of yours.”
She sucked in deep, then spat right into his face. The back of his hand hit her with such board-blunt force that her teeth clamped onto her tongue and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the men only purplish shapes in the yellow glare, their dark voices too low to grasp as she staggered into the thorns. Blood trickled down her chin.
You hit her!
Get the fuck out of my way!
She’s a kid!
Move, I said . . .
She’s just a little kid!
Hasn’t stopped you, though, has it?
It was the middle of the night. She got up again to see what the noise was. This time she curled up on the couch and stared at the window. Someone was out there. She heard footsteps, then a scraping like something being dragged across the sidewalk. She crawled to the window, nose against the sill. No one was out there. The few parked cars were empty. Maybe it was an animal, a raccoon or skunk dragging garbage around. Yeah, that must be it. But then why wasn’t Leonardo barking instead of sound asleep still on the bed? A truck was coming down the street. The Navigator. Polie was in it alone. He parked near the corner, then got out and came quickly along the sidewalk, carrying something by his side. She ran into the bedroom, opened the window, then grabbed Leonardo and slid down the pitched shed roof. Holding his snout so he wouldn’t bark, she edged along the side of the house. Above her on the porch, Polie grunted as he tried to pry open the door with a crowbar. She sprang across the street, down Gordon’s driveway, and onto his back porch. There wasn’t any bell. She tried to turn the knob, but the door was locked. The second-floor window was open. She picked up a small rock and tossed it at the screen, but it hit the side of the house. “Gordon! Hey, Gordon!” she whispered, and threw another one.
“What’re you doing down there?” He peered from the dark window.
“Shh,” she whispered, struggling to keep Leonardo quiet.
“What do you want?”
“Polie’s tryna break in my house.”
He opened the back door. She followed him into the dark living room, where they watched Polie through the window. Now he was trying to pry open the window. Gordon asked if her mother was in there. She said no.
“Do you want to call the police?” he asked.
“Jesus, no! Then he’d really kill me.”
“What do you want to do, then?”
“Stay here. Just till morning,” she added quickly. “Then me and Leonardo, we’ll go home.”
“No! You can’t stay here!”
“Please, please,” she begged.
“Why? What does he want? Why’s he doing this?”
“It’s Feaster. He says my mother owes him money and he wants it back.”
“Look,” Gordon said.
The front door opened and Inez’s husband came out with his son, Carlos, the burly truck driver. The two men shouted at Polie. He yelled back, then hurried toward the Navigator. Lights had come on in the adjacent houses. The men watched until he drove off.
“This was my brother’s bedroom.” Gordon turned on the light. It was a small, perfect room with a bed, bureau, desk, and chair. The walls were the same beige as the curtains and bedspread. As he