If you asked the average seventeen-year-old male whether he would enjoy lying on the floor pressed between two attractive women, he would say, Heck yes. But it was not proving to be a sensual experience for Matt. The problem, basically, was that although he knew that he was just a fun-loving high-school student engaged in a harmless game, neither Anna Herk nor Jenny knew this. And so while he didn't want to do anything to hurt them, they had no qualms whatsoever about beating the shit out of him.
Behind him, Anna Herk, who worked out regularly at the health club, was clinging to Matt like a psychotic lamprey. She had both legs wrapped tightly around him, pinning his arms to his side; her right arm was around his throat, pretty much cutting off his air supply. She was using her left fist to pound the back of his head, and she was screaming into his left ear, and although she was not by nature an aggressive or hostile person, she was trying desperately to sound like one.
"YOU LET HER GO YOU SON OF A BITCH!" were her exact words.
Matt would have liked nothing more than to let Jenny go, because Jenny was kneeing his groin and scratching at him with fingernails that felt like X-Acto knives. But Matt could not move, because Mrs. Herk was right on top of him, pressing him down on her writhing, scratching, screaming daughter, slamming his face into the hard tile floor every time Anna pounded the back of his head; blood was spurting from his nose. He tried to explain himself, but the only sound he could force out through his constricted throat was an ambiguous "Gack." Through the darkening haze of his diminishing consciousness, Matt felt a new, hairy presence next to his right cheek. It was Roger, who, having sized up the situation and decided what needed to be done, was licking up Mart's blood.
On the street outside, Miami police officer Monica Ramirez, who heard a minimum of three Monica Lewinsky jokes per day from her endlessly self-amused male colleagues, stopped her police cruiser in front of the Herk address, which had been phoned to 911 by a neighbor. She rolled down her window and heard what sounded like a woman's screaming. Turning the cruiser into the driveway, she nosed the front bumper up against the steel security gate and pressed the accelerator gently; the security gate, as most of them did, immediately popped open.
Monica pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, as did her partner, Officer Walter Kramitz. They had been partners for two months now, and Monica could tell he was getting ready to ask her for a date, which meant she had been thinking about how she was going to gently tell him no, the truth being that he was a little too fascinated by his own arm muscles. Plus he was married.
Kramitz tried the front door, which was locked, then pushed the buzzer, then pounded on the door, yelling, "Police!"
Monica didn't expect anybody to open the door. She said, "I'm going around back," and took off running around the left side of the house.
When she rounded the back corner, she heard the screams coming louder from the direction of the patio. As she approached the open sliding-glass door, Monica unholstered her revolver. Through the glass, she first saw a tangle of feet; then she saw people struggling on the floor, blood, and a rifle.
Pivoting in through the door opening, she raised her revolver and shouted: "Police! Everybody hold it!" (Monica never yelled "Freeze!" She thought it was trite.) The people struggling on the floor did not appear to hear her, although Roger immediately trotted over and, in the universal gesture of dog friendship, thrust his snout into Monica's crotch.
"STOP IT!" shouted Monica. This statement was aimed at Roger, but Anna Herk heard it and, with her arm still around Matt's throat, turning to see a police officer aiming a gun her way, froze.
"Get off them," said Monica.
"I live here," said Anna.
"Get off them anyway," said Monica.
Anna rolled off Matt. Matt, free at last, rolled off Jenny and put his hands up to his bleeding nose. Jenny, weeping, crawled over to her mom.
"Are you OK, honey?" asked Anna. Jenny nodded.
Monica, lowering the gun but keeping it unholstered, said to Anna, "OK, I want you to tell me what's going on."
Anna pointed to Matt and said, "This person tried to…»
"FREEZE!" shouted Officer Kramitz, coming through the patio doorway with his gun drawn. He had given up on the front door.
"It's OK," said Monica. "Everything's cool."
"OK," said Officer Kramitz, disappointed. "What happened?"
"This lady was just starting to tell me," said Monica. "Go ahead."
"This person tried to kill us," said Anna.
Everybody looked at Matt.
"No!" he said. "It's me! Matt Arnold." He took his hand away from his bleeding nose so they could see who it was.
"I was just trying to kill Jenny," he explained.
"You SEE?" said Anna.
"No, no," said Matt, "I don't mean kill her, I mean, it's a game, Killer. From school. I'm in her biology class. Jenny, tell them it's me."
Everybody looked at Jenny, who was looking at Matt and realizing that, underneath the blood, he was, in fact, a guy from her biology class. She had seen him looking at her, although, like all pretty girls, she had learned to appear as though she never noticed when boys were looking at her, although of course she always did.
"What are you doing in my house?" Jenny asked.
"I'm supposed to kill you," said Matt.
"You see?" said Anna again.
"With a squirt gun," said Matt. "It's a squirt gun."
Everybody looked at the rifle. Officer Kramitz went over and picked it up.
"It's a squirt gun," he said, really disappointed now.
"Oh shit," said Jenny. "Is THAT what this is? That stupid game?"
"Yes!" said Matt. "The game!"
"Oh Jesus," said Jenny. To her mom, she said: "We have this game at school where you get somebody's name, and you're supposed to squirt them."
"In their house?" asked Anna. "At night? What kind of game is that?"
"I'm sorry," said Matt. "I didn't think it…»
"It's about TIME you people got here," said Arthur Herk, emerging from the hallway. He had been in Nina's room, with the door locked, until he was sure the danger had passed. Roger trotted over to see if Arthur was bringing food, but veered away when Arthur kicked at him.
"And you are… " said Monica.
"I own this house," said Arthur.
"Good for you," said Monica. "And your name is?"
"Arthur Herk. I know the mayor, and I want to know what took you people so fucking long."
"Sir," said Monica, "first, we came as soon as we got the call. Second, don't use that language with me."
"That's right, sir," said Officer Kramitz, who was hoping that Arthur would become disorderly so he could restrain him.
"What're you gonna do about this?" demanded Arthur, pointing at Matt. "Guy comes in here with a fucking gun! Trying to kill us!"
"Arthur," said Anna, "it's a squirt gun."
Arthur looked at the gun in Officer Kramitz's hand. Officer Kramitz pulled the trigger, sending a stream of water onto the floor. Roger trotted over to lick it.
"Good thing you ran away, Arthur," said Jenny. "You might have got squirted."
Officer Kramitz snorted. Arthur whirled to face Jenny and said, "Shut up, you little bitch."
There was a moment of silence while everybody in the room, except for Arthur and Roger, reflected on what an asshole Arthur was.
"OK," said Monica, "let's all just settle down and…»
"MY TV!" said Arthur. "HE BROKE MY FUCKING TV!"
Everybody looked at the TV, now a mute black box with a gaping hole and glass littering the floor in front of it.
"I didn't do that," said Matt.
"YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT AND YOU'RE GONNA GO TO JAIL YOU LITTLE FUCK," said Arthur.
"I didn't do it," said Matt. "It's a squirt gun"
"He's more upset about the TV than about us," said Jenny.
"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP," said Arthur.
"Sir," said Monica, who was wondering how come she always got these domestic disputes instead of nice, simple homicides, "I'm asking you to please calm down so we can…»
"THIS IS MY FUCKING HOUSE," said Arthur.
"Yes, sir," said Monica. "And these right here are my handcuffs, and if you don't calm down, you are gonna be wearing them."
"That's right, sir," said Officer Kramitz, wishing he had thought of the handcuff line first.
"OK," said Monica, "I wanna hear, from the beginning, one at a time, what happened, starting with Mr. Killer over here." She nodded to Matt.
"Well," Matt said, "me and Andrew were outside with the squirt gun, and…»
"Who's Andrew?" asked Monica.
Matt, realizing he was in danger of committing the mortal schoolboy sin of ratting on a friend, said, "Nobody."
"Andrew is nobody?" said Monica. "You were out there with a squirt gun and an imaginary friend?"
"Yes," said Matt. "I mean, no."
Monica started to rub her temple, then realized she still had her gun in her hand. She bolstered it and said, "OK, so you and nobody are outside. Then what?"
"OK," said Matt, "so Jenny's mom opened the door, and I came running up to squirt Jenny, and…»
A buzzer sounded.
"That's the front door," said Anna.
"Officer Kramitz," said Monica, "could you please go see who it is?"
Officer Kramitz, giving Arthur a look, left the family room.
"So," said Monica to Matt, "you ran up for a squirt, and…»
"And Mrs. Herk jumped me, and I went down on Jenny," said Matt. "I mean, fell down on Jenny." Matt and Jenny both turned red.
"I'm sorry," said Anna. "I thought you were… I didn't realize. Are you OK?"
"Yeah, it's just a bloody nose," said Matt. "Do you work out or something?"
Anna said, "I'll get you a washcloth."
Jenny said, "I'll get it." The truth was, she thought Matt was cute.
"You're not getting him shit," said Arthur. "He broke into this house, and he broke my fucking TV, and I'm suing and I'm pressing charges."
Officer Kramitz reentered the room and said, "This guy says his son is here."
Behind him, wearing gym shorts and a Miami Fusion T-shirt and looking very anxious as he brushed Roger away from his groin, was Eliot Arnold. Eliot went straight to Matt.
"Matt," he said, "you OK?"
"Yeah," said Matt. "It's just a bloody nose. I'm sorry, Dad. I never thought, I mean… I'm really sorry."
"This is your son?" asked Monica.
"Yes," said Eliot. "I'm Eliot Arnold. I got a call from Andrew, Matt's friend, he said there was trouble here, so I took a cab."
"Ah," said Monica. "The imaginary friend."
"What?" said Eliot.
"Never mind," said Monica.
Arthur Herk walked over to Eliot and, standing too close, said, "You got a lawyer?" "What?" said Eliot.
"You better have a good fucking lawyer," Arthur told Eliot. "Your son broke my TV. It was a Sony, thirty-nine inches diagonal."
"Thirty-five inches," said Jenny, returning with a washcloth.
"Bitch," said Arthur.
"Could somebody please tell me what happened?" asked Eliot.
"I was trying to kill Jenny," said Matt, "and her mom jumped me."
"Hi," said Anna, giving Eliot a little wave. "I'm Anna Herk. I didn't mean to hurt him."
"Hi," said Eliot, waving back. "Listen, I'm really sorry about this. I thought it was, I mean, the way Matt described it, it was just supposed to be a game."
"Hey," said Anna, making a what-can-you-do gesture. "Kids."
"Yeah," agreed Eliot. "Kids." Eliot was noticing that Anna had extremely green eyes.
"Your kid's going to jail," said Arthur Herk, heading for the bar.
"Monica?" said Officer Kramitz.
"What?" said Monica.
'Take a look at this," said Officer Kramitz, feeling very happy about this case again. He was crouched by the TV set, pointing at something inside the gaping opening where the picture tube had been. Monica went over and saw that he was pointing at a small, perfectly round hole in the back of the plastic cabinet. Looking behind the TV, she saw a matching hole in the wall. She went around to the other side of the wall, which was the dining room; there was a hole in the wall, and another hole in the wall on the opposite side of the room.
"Jesus," she said. She went back into the family room.
"OK," she said, "Let's go over what happened again, and this time, let's include the part about who shot the TV set."
Arthur Herk, pouring a drink, jerked his head up.
"Shot it?" said Anna. "Nobody shot it."
"It's a squirt gun," said Matt.
"Listen," said Monica. "There's a bullet hole in the wall there, and I want to know, right now, how… Wait a minute."
Monica turned and went over to the window next to the sliding-glass door and stood for a moment, staring. Eliot, Matt, Anna, Jenny, and Officer Kramitz moved closer to see what she was looking at. What she was looking at was a neat, round hole in the glass.
"Oh my God," said Jenny.
"Is that a bullet hole?" asked Eliot.
"Looks like," said Monica.
"So," said Matt, "like, a bullet came through this room? With us here?"
"Oh my God," said Jenny, again. Anna hugged her.
At the bar, Arthur Herk went pale.
"Matt," said Monica, "when you and your imaginary Mend were outside, did you see anybody else?"
"No," said Matt.
"Mrs. Herk," said Monica, "does anybody live here besides you and your daughter and your husband?"
"Well," said Anna, "there's… My god, where's Nina?"
Nina could smell beer. It wasn't a bad smell; in fact, it reminded her of her father, when he came home late from work on Friday and sometimes she would sit on his lap and he would sing her songs, and on his breath was the sweet smell of the cerveza.
She could smell it now, but it wasn't her father; k was somebody with a different voice, a higher voice, and he was saying, "You OK? Lady? Lady? You OK?"
Nina opened her eyes, and she saw a man, but she didn't scream, because she was not afraid of this man. He had a beard and sad brown eyes, kind of like Roger the dog's, and she could see in them that he had a sad brown soul, and that he would not hurt her.
Puggy thought that Nina was beautiful. Just beautiful, like an angel in a blue nightgown, or a woman on the TV. He could not believe that a woman as beautiful as this was in his tree. He knew — he was sure — that she was the reason for the flute music, because that music was as beautiful as this woman was. He had never really loved a woman, or even really talked to one, but he believed that he loved this woman very much.
"You OK?" he said again.
"Si," said Nina. "Yes."
Spanish, thought Puggy. He would die for this woman.
"What happen to me?" she asked, tentatively touching her forehead, discovering a large and tender lump.
"That guy ran into you," said Puggy.
"Seсor Herk," said Nina. "He chase me."
Whoever Seсor Herk was, Puggy hated him.
"I got the gun," said Puggy.
"Gun?" said Nina. She pronounced it "gon." Puggy thought it was a beautiful way to pronounce it. He wanted this woman to stay in his tree forever, pronouncing things.
"The gun the other guy had," said Puggy. "I got it."
"There was another?" asked Nina.
"There was two guys," said Puggy. "They're gone, though."
Nina looked around her. She was lying on something hard and flat, like wood, but she was outside, with branches all around.
"Where is this?" she asked.
"This is my tree," Puggy said.
Nina sat up a little bit, and saw that she was in a tree. "Well," said Puggy, "it's not my tree. But I live here."
"How do I come here?" asked Nina.
"I picked you up," said Puggy, remembering how warm her body felt over his shoulder. "I hope I didn't… I mean, I wasn't…»
"No, no," said Nina. "Is OK. You help me. Muchas gracias. Thank you." She smiled at him. She had very white teeth.
Puggy had never been happier in his entire life, never, not even the time when he was little and his dad, who was still around then, took him to the volunteer firemen's carnival and let him ride the bumper cars over and over, his dad drinking beers and laughing and handing the bumper-car guy some bills and saying, "Let'm go again!" That was the best time he'd ever had, and this was better, to have this TV-beautiful angel smiling at him.
"Nina!" called a voice through the darkness, from the direction of the house.
"Ay Dios," said Nina. "La seсora!"
Nina, thought Puggy.
"I must go," said Nina.
"Nina!" called the voice.
"Nina," said Puggy, trying it out.
Nina liked the way he said it. "What is your name?" she asked.
"Puggy."
"Puggy," she said. She pronounced it "Pogey." Puggy thought he was going to float out of the tree.
"NINA!" called the voice, sounding a little frantic, and a little closer.
"I must go," Nina said again.
"OK," said Puggy. He was used to people having to go..He held out his hand, and Nina took it, and he pulled her up, and she could feel that he was strong. She hoped her hand did not feel too rough to him. She had working hands.
But Puggy liked the way her hand felt, and he loved the way she gripped his hand, a firm grip, as he eased her down onto a lower branch, and then, following behind, eased her to the ground. He dropped down beside her, and they stood looking at each other. They were exactly the same height.
"NINA!" called the voice, now definitely coming this way.
"I don't think they know I live in their tree," said Puggy.
"OK," said Nina. She would not tell.
"Nina," said Puggy, trying to figure out a way to tell her that he loved her.
"Yes?" she said.
"I'm usually here," he said.
"OK," she said. She touched his arm, leaving her hand there a second. Then she turned and walked, a little unsteadily, toward the calling voice, leaving Puggy watching her, still feeling her hand on his arm.
Henry didn't want to make the call from his cell phone. The first pay phone he found was on Grand Avenue in Coconut Grove. This was not the world's safest place for middle-aged white guys wearing Rolex watches, which Henry was.
Leonard, still woozy and seriously hurting in the head, stayed in the car, lying across the backseat. Henry got out, fed a quarter and a dime into the phone, and dialed a number from a piece of paper. Watching him, from a vacant lot across the four-lane avenue, were three young men.
The phone rang once.
"Tell me," said a voice on the other end.
"There was another shooter," said Henry.
There was a pause, then the voice said: "What do you mean?"
The three young men started walking across Grand Avenue, very casually, toward Henry.
"I mean there was another shooter, is what I mean," said Henry.
"Who?" said the voice.
"I was thinking maybe you would know," said Henry.
Halfway across the avenue, the three young men fanned out, with one moving to Henry's left, one to his right, and one coming directly toward him. They were still moving casually.
The phone voice said: "Whoever it was, it wasn't us." Then: "Did you take care of the job?"
"No," said Henry.
"Did the other shooter take care of it?"
"No."
"So you're saying there's two shooters, and our guy just walks away?"
The three young men had stopped about eight feet from Henry, forming a triangle around him.
"Hang on a second," Henry said. He dropped the piece of paper with the telephone number on it, then bent down as if to pick it up. Instead, he pulled the gun out of his ankle holster, straightened, and pointed the gun at the one of the three young men, who Henry figured was the leader, on the grounds that he was the nearest, plus he was wearing the biggest pants. Henry arched his eyebrows at him, letting him know, hey, not right now, OK?
The leader nodded approvingly at the gun, at the general coolness of Henry's move. He pivoted and walked casually back across Grand Avenue, followed by the other two young men.
"Hello?" said the voice on the phone.
"Our guy didn't walk away," said Henry. "He more crawled away when this other shooter comes running up like he's Geronimo, and then Geronimo gets jumped by the wife, and then the cops come."
Henry decided to leave out, for now anyway, the part where he lost his rifle to the guy from the tree.
The phone was silent for a moment.
"We need to talk," said the voice.
"You got that right," said Henry.
A police detective named Harvey Baker came and asked the Herks, several different ways, if they could think of any reason why anybody would want to shoot them. Anna had no idea. Arthur speculated that it was probably some fucking kids, because these fucking kids today, they all have fucking guns. Detective Baker did not believe that Arthur was telling him everything. He pointed out that the police could not protect people if the people didn't cooperate. Arthur stated that he didn't think the police could protect their own dicks with both hands. Detective Baker found himself developing a strong emotional bond with whoever had taken the shot.
Nina was not helpful, either. Detective Baker, with Monica translating, made it clear that he was not interested in the legality of her residence in the United States, but she wanted no part of any police business. All she would say is that when she heard noise, she jumped out the window, ran across the yard, and hit the wall. She did not see anything; she did not hear anything. Nada.
Detective Baker decided that this was probably going to be one of those cases where somebody shoots a gun and nobody ever finds out who or why, which is a fairly common type of case in Miami. To make Anna Herk feel better, he poked around the backyard a bit, aided by Roger, but he didn't find, nor did he expect to find, any clues. He told the Herks that he would continue to investigate the shooting, which everybody understood to mean that he would not continue to investigate the shooting.
Detective Baker decided not to arrest Matt, thanks in part to the pleading of Anna Herk, who felt really bad about having pounded Matt's face into the floor. Detective Baker did, however, point out that creeping around people's backyards at night in Miami with what looked like a real gun was, no offense, dumber than dog shit. Matt assured the detective that he had learned this lesson.
As soon as the police left, Arthur turned to Eliot and said: "Now you and your punk kid can get the fuck out of here and never come back."
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, too," said Eliot.
"I'll walk you out," Anna told Eliot. They headed for the foyer, with Matt, Jenny, and Roger trailing behind.
Outside, Matt said, "I'll go get the car." To Jenny, he said, "Did you ever want to experience the thrill of riding in a genuine Kia?"
"It's only a lifelong dream," said Jenny, and they set off toward the gate, followed by Roger, in case they were going to get food.
"Sarcasm," said Eliot. "I don't know where they get it."
"Certainly not from their parents," said Anna.
"Listen," said Eliot. "I am really sorry about…»
"No," said Anna. "I'm sorry, for hurting Matt, and I'm sorry my husband is such an idiot."
"Well," said Eliot, "he's probably really upset about the bullet."
"No," said Anna. "He's an idiot."
Eliot just looked at her for a moment, because the truth was, he agreed with her that Arthur was an idiot. Also, she had amazing eyes.
"Well, listen," he finally said, "if there's ever anything that I can… I mean, not about your husband of course, I mean, the bullet, if I can…»
"I married him when Jenny was little," Anna said, "and my first husband left me with no money, and I had to move to a horrible apartment and I had no job. Arthur didn't drink so much then, and he seemed… stable, I guess, and I just… I was desperate."
"Geez," said Eliot.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she said.
"It's OK," said Eliot. He was glad she was telling him this.
"I keep looking up divorce lawyers in the phone book," she said. "Sometimes I even call, but when they answer, I hang up, because… I mean, I want to do it, and I know I have to do it, but I also know Arthur, and he's going to be just as big a prick as he possibly can. He's going to want to hurt me and Jenny. And I keep seeing us back in that horrible apartment."
"Geez," said Eliot. He was wondering what she would think of his apartment.
"Does that mean I'm pathetic?" she said.
"No!" said Eliot.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll stop dumping on you, I promise."
"Hey," he said. "Anytime."
"Thanks," she said. She touched his forearm. Whoa.
They stood there for a moment, both of them a little bit uncomfortable, but neither of them wanting to break the spell, and then…
I want your sex pootie!
I want your sex pootie!
The sound of the thudding bass preceded the Kia, which pulled into the driveway going too fast, as it always did when Matt was at the wheel. It jerked to a stop. Jenny got out, and Matt followed, holding a CD.
"You want to borrow it?" he said.
"Sure, thanks," Jenny said. "I love the Seminal Fluids." In fact, she already had this particular CD; she was borrowing it so she could return it, and thus talk to Matt again. When she took the CD, their hands touched. Whoa.
"I'll drive," said Eliot, and Matt did not argue, which indicated to Eliot that Matt was either falling in love or suffering from a concussion.
The four of them stood by the car for a second or two.
"Well," said Eliot, to Anna, "bye."
"Bye," said Anna, to Eliot.
"Bye," said Jenny, to Matt.
"Bye," said Matt, to Jenny.
"Get down," said Jenny, to Roger, who was checking to see if the CD was food.
As they drove away, Eliot, going into Parental Lecture Mode, said, "Listen, Matt, you…»
"I know," said Matt.
"Well," said Eliot, "you better not…»
"I know," said Matt.
"Well, OK," said Eliot, "but your mother…»
"Dad, I said I know," said Matt.
"OK, then," said Eliot.
They lapsed into silence, each drifting off into jumbled recollections of the evening. At the Herk home, Anna, Jenny, and Nina were doing the same, as was Puggy in his tree. In each case, the recollections were surprisingly pleasant, considering that the evening had begun with somebody apparently trying to kill somebody.
Arthur Herk was pretty sure he knew who both somebodys were, and his thoughts were not pleasant. He had been thinking about the situation, and he had decided what he was going to do. After pouring himself another drink, he dialed a number from the phone on the family-room bar.
"It's me," he told the person at the other end. "Yeah." He took a swallow of his drink and looked over at the bullet hole.
"Listen," he said. "I need a missile."