Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [133]
VO: What do you think?
Kyle: I dunno, asshole, that’s why I’m asking you.
VO: C’mon, KK. Show your balls when they’re not being licked.
Kyle put the gun to his temple. He was sweating. He pulled the trigger.
Click.
An audible sigh. Kyle handed the gun to Gregory. “Your turn.”
The boy looked utterly addled as he held the revolver in his hand. He kept staring at the camera.
VO: You want to be the real man, you’ve got to be the man, dude.
Hesse: Is this loaded?
VO: You’ll find out.
Kyle: C’mon, Dylan. Don’t be a prick.
VO/Dylan: What do you think?
A long pause.
VO/Dylan: Of course it’s not loaded.
Gregory: I dunno about this.
VO/Dylan: C’mon, dude. Nothing’s gonna happen. It’ll look real cool on camera.
Gregory: It’s not loaded?
VO/Dylan: No, it’s not loaded! You honestly think I’d give you a loaded gun?
Silence.
VO/Dylan: C’mon, Greg. It’ll look supercool.
Gregory put the gun to his head.
Even though both women knew what to expect, the loud pop caused them both to startle. The screen sprayed a cloud of blood, brain, and bone as a wide-eyed lifeless figure fell backward onto the bed.
Someone screamed out a “Shit!” Then an agitated “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
In the background, someone else was laughing very hard.
VO/Dylan continued to laugh. With a giggle still in his voice, he said, “Oops.”
Fade to nothing.
The figure was in the chair next to him, sitting forward, folded hands between his knees. The eyes were usually those of a shark, ice blue and completely without emotion. Today, they were idling in neutral. The minuscule hospital window framed black, contrasting to the space inside, which was brightly lit.
Gabe said, “Hey, roomie, whassup.” When his father didn’t answer, he said, “Can you get me my glasses?”
Donatti picked them up and placed them over his son’s eyes.
Gabe pulled himself into a sitting position, his body throbbing in pain. Chris was dressed in a yellow polo shirt under a brown suede shirt jacket. The man was thirty-five and looked anywhere from twenty to sixty depending on how much he drank. Today he looked younger than his years.
Gabe’s eyes focused on his nightstand, specifically a tray filled with comestibles. “What’s that?”
“I think it’s your dinner.” Donatti perused the contents. “You got applesauce, cranberry juice, Jell-O, a couple of slices of white bread—”
Gabe interrupted with a groan. “I got hit in the ribs, not in the stomach.”
Donatti reached into his bag and pulled out a fast-food hamburger. “Eat slowly.”
Gabe took a bite, which fell into his stomach like a lead pellet. He threw it on his nightstand. “When do I get out of here?”
“After you’ve taken a piss and a shit.”
“Seriously.”
“I am serious. That’s what the doctor said. He can leave after he’s taken a piss and a shit.” A pause. “He actually said after you’ve urinated and had a bowel movement, but I believe in brevity of words.”
“How can I take a shit if I haven’t eaten all day?”
“So fucking eat.”
“Gimme the applesauce.” Donatti rolled his eyes and Gabe caught it. It was going to be a very long stay in Nevada. After Chris gave him the applesauce, Gabe said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“When’d you get in?”
“About an hour ago.”
“What time is it?”
“You’re just full of questions.” Chris looked at his watch. “Almost eleven.”
“Sorry to inconvenience you.”
“No inconvenience.” Donatti’s voice was bland. “I finished what I had to do before I came here.”
“You can go back if you want. I can fly into Elko by myself.”
“Gabriel, don’t be an asshole. I’m here because I want to be here. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have come. Stop trying to goad me into losing my temper so you can hate me. It won’t work.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah. By the way, I e-mailed your mother and told her you’ve been shot.”
“You did?” Gabe’s eyes got wide. “Why?”
“I thought she should know.”
“Did you tell her I’ll be okay?”
“No.”
Using his ordeal to get back at his mom. Gabe should have been incredulous, but he