I almost promised, but hedged, “I’ll try. I can’t overlook, like, murder.”
Callum grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and I wasn’t sure if he meant to hit me, kiss me, or shove me out of the way. In the end, he just said, “Stay here and keep quiet.” He stepped out into the kitchen, leaving the door ajar so I could hear and had a tiny slice of view. “Hey, Uncle Wayne. Where’ve you been?”
“Around. Don’t you have hockey to play?”
“Game’s not till tomorrow. You took Grandpa’s truck.”
“Yeah. Guy paid me two hundred bucks to help him move. I needed it.”
“Maybe Grandpa needed it too. D’you think of that?”
“The store’s three blocks. He walks to work.”
“He uses the truck to move stuff. It’s a working vehicle.”
“Keep your shirt on. I’ll pay for the gas.”
“You should give Grandpa the full two hundred. He’s been giving you room and board. You owe him.”
Wayne laughed. “Then he can ask for it, not you, Cal.”
“And if he asks, you’ll pay him?”
“You gonna snitch on me? Tell him I have money?” Wayne’s voice took on a cold edge.
Callum’s tone changed too. “Who’s Mr. Smith?”
“You don’t get to know that.”
“Do you even know his real name?”
“I know you don’t want to mess with him. He’ll fuck you up good.”
I froze, puzzling out what they might be talking about. It didn’t sound good, or simply personal.
Callum asked, “Did you put the money in my account? The bank said it was a cash deposit at an ATM with a legitimate bank card. Did you steal Grandpa’s card?”
“Steal is such an ugly word.”
“Fuck you! You stole from him before. Money, stock from the store. I don’t even know how much you took. But this time, you’re going to pull us all down with you.”
“Do you think I care? I owe Smith bigtime. He wants something? He gets it. And he wants you.”
The lurch in my gut was instinctive, a remnant of too much time spent around men who talked like that.Wants him how?
Callum’s voice got louder. “You owe Smith, so you helped him frame me, and now you think I’ll just knuckle under? Whatwill he do to you when I win next Sunday, and he loses a bunch of money? Maybe he’ll take the losses out of your skin.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Wayne’s low tone held enough menace that I cracked the door a little wider, trying to see what he was doing.
I caught a reflection in the front of the microwave, Wayne and Callum facing off against each other at close range.
Wayne went on, “He’s not a guy you can blow off. He’ll take your career down without thinking twice. I’ll be collateral damage.”
“You’ll be back in jail. Stealing Grandpa’s card breaks your parole. Four more years.”
“You hate me enough to end your career, just so I get fucked?”
“No! I’m not going to let anybody own me. If I do this now, I’m screwed forever.”
