Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [89]
Frank calmed and gathered himself, standing up straight and tall, shoulders squared. “I won’t let you down.”
“That’s my boy.” He saluted Frank and snagged his board.
“What do I do if the manager shows up?”
“Tell him I had a family emergency.”
Frank nodded, and Ramon shot out the door. Wheels hit pavement with a soft whir as he steered his board away from Plumpy’s. The weight in his stomach lightened. It felt good to be taking action. And he hadn’t even had to make Frank lie for him. If Sammy wasn’t a family emergency, he didn’t know what was.
Ramon tossed his board against the wall of the apartment. He went to Sam’s phone and started scrolling through the caller ID for names he didn’t recognize. June Walker. Had to be. Out of the few he didn’t know, she was the only one who’d called even close to the right time. He dialed, his heart skipping in anticipation. A woman answered. Her voice reminded him of Dessa’s: intelligent, warm, with a hint of sarcasm. Dessa’s usually had more than a hint.
“June Walker?”
“Depends on who’s asking.” She sounded amused.
“Do you know a Sam LaCroix?”
“Who is this?” All amusement evaporated.
“This is his friend Ramon.” He paced, too jittery to sit down. “I know you called him. What did you talk about?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Because I haven’t seen him since Friday.” The line got quiet. He could hear a few birds and June’s breath, but nothing else. Then he heard some mumbled curses and the clattering of what sounded like a bowl.
“Ramon, right?”
He nodded, realized she couldn’t see him, and then told her yes.
“Let me call you back, Ramon.” She hung up before he could respond.
Twenty minutes and half a bag of Cheetos later, June called back.
“Sorry,” she said, “but Sam’s messenger got lost.” June’s voice quieted like she was talking away from the mouthpiece. “Yes, I know you have other things to do, but really—would you get away from my waffle maker?”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean you. Look, Ramon, do you know Sam’s mom?”
“Since sixth grade.”
“Good. Get ahold of her. Tell her she needs to try and break her binding on Sam.”
“I thought we needed Sam’s uncle for that.”
“For one of them. It’s a long story.”
“You think she’ll be able to do it?” He wiped some left over powdered cheese on Sam’s couch. Sam could yell at him when he got back. He had decided that if he did enough stuff to piss Sam off, then Sam would have to stay alive if only so he could yell at Ramon. So far he had messed up Sam’s CD collection and eaten his junk food. It was a good start.
“To be honest, I’m not sure. But she needs to try. Douglas has him.”
Ramon heard the click of a lighter as June lit a cigarette. He assumed it was a cigarette. If it was a bong, they were doomed.
“And Ramon?”
“Yeah?”
“I need you to do one more thing.”
Ramon used his own cell phone to call the other number, just like June had instructed. At first, no one answered. After a few rings, a very chipper male voice came on.
“Hey, you’ve reached the den, home of many. Leave a message, and we might get back to you. Don’t hang up, don’t talk too long, and don’t expect us to remember your number.” There was a smacking sound in the background and a pause in the message. “Ow! You want to do this? Didn’t think so. Right. Leave it at the beep, people.”
Ramon felt like smiling, despite the situation. The guy’s cheerfulness was infectious, even over the phone. The machine beeped.
“Hey,” he said, “my name is Ramon. You don’t know me, but my buddy is stuck somewhere with…I don’t know. Her name is Brid, that’s all I know.” Ramon couldn’t think of what else to say, so he just left his number and hung up.
He didn’t know how he was going to get to Sam’s mom’s, but he didn’t feel like riding the bus again. This time of day it would take too long, and he already felt antsy. Frank was at work. He could take Sam’s car, but he didn’t have a license. A cab would be too expensive. He picked up his spare board and locked the front door.