Sam, Elaine and Little Moe climbed out from the underbrush where they’d been hiding. Elaine plucked pine needles off her fancy clothes; she really wasn’t dressed for tonight’s brand of entertainment. Sam looked pretty sheepish but I liked that he’d had the sense not to be a hero and watched out for Little Moe and Elaine instead.
“You called me Dad,” I observed as we wrestled the spike strip into the gutter so no one else would drive over it.
Sam snorted and we started to roll the Continental to the side of the road. But my injured leg spasmed and collapsed under me as I pushed, and I wound up on my ass.
“Your leg’s bleeding still,” Sam observed as he continued to push the car alone. Elaine came to me, pulled off her scarf, and began tying it tight around my upper thigh.
I didn’t feel guilty at all for not helping Sam muscle the car toward the shoulder of the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other pushing on the open door. Judging by how much he huffed and sweated, a 70s Lincoln Continental rolling on nothing but rims was a lot of dead-weight Detroit iron. Maybe his next car would be a compact.
“You were surprised I was waiting when you came out the house,” Elaine whispered, continuing to fuss with her scarf even though it was tight enough around my leg by then. “You know, you may have all the others fooled, but I know your secret.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She chuckled quietly and leaned in with brows arched, her smile mocking but not unfriendly. “You're terrified people will figure out you’re a nice guy.”
I was bemused, wondering why she would say something so blatantly nonsensical. “Sure, that’s me all right. The milk of human kindness just kind of oozes from my pores in a fine mist.”
Elaine glanced over at Sam, who’d finished pushing the Connie to the side of the road but still leaned on the rear bumper catching his breath. “I can’t let you keep on threatening to turn him against me, Markus. It ends right now,” she said. “No matter what I do on the side, I would never do anything to harm Sam, or you.
“Don’t
“Well, you’re here, ain’t you?” I said.
“What up?” Sam asked.
“I’m just welcoming Elaine into the family, boy. Such as it is, of course.”
“And what about that?” Sam asked, looking at Hoffman’s cop car. The strobes still turned; that disco trouble light still shot its rays out, painting the surrounding trees as it spun.
“Leave it be,” I said. “It makes a nice nightlight.”