Page 55 of A Week Away
I got out of the car and called Ronnie on his cellular.
“Hello.”
“It’s me.”
“You haven’t called in two days.”
“I wanted to wait until I knew when I’d be coming home.”
“No. You call me every day. I don’t care if you have nothing to say. I just need to hear your voice.”
“I’m coming home. Maybe later tonight. Probably not until tomorrow.”
“You mean home as in Long Beach. Youarehome right now, aren’t you?”
It took a moment for the penny to drop. “Oh. You mean Detroit. It’s not my home anymore.”
“I called the credit card company. I’ve been following you all along.”
“I’ve spent a lot of money. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to do that. Financially, you’ve more than held up your end. I don’t begrudge you the money.”
“But…”
“I hate not knowing where you are. And I hate sleeping alone. The silence is terrible.”
The ‘silence’ was a reference to my snoring, which, given the number of times I’d had my nose broken, was quite impressive.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Detroit. We established that.”
“I mean exactly. I hear traffic. It sounds like you’re outside.”
“I’m on a pay phone in front of a 7-Eleven.”
“That’s romantic.”
“Not really.”
“Don’t you remember? The night we met we sat in your car outside a 7-Eleven having coffee and donuts. It was like three or four in the morning.”
“I do remember. Of course, I remember. We got chased off. Right after I told you I’d killed a man.”
“See. I told it was romantic. Have you killed anyone since you got to Detroit?”
“No. I’ve been tempted though.”
“How is the kid? He’s not gay is he?”
“No. He has a Pavlovian response to attractive young women.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“In my car, waiting for clients. They’re late. The house is one point two million though, so if they buy it I’ll forgive them.”
