chapter*Dad
textscCandy swerving. She’s trying to lose him.
“Why did you invite him?”
“I didn’t! He just came! Fuck! Can you lose him?”
“I’m trying.”
Candy pops the Camaro up. If there’s police here they’ll get us. She fucks it. She fucks the road. Fucks the exit.
“Fuck!”
“Lose that motherfucker!”
Becca’s gripping the seat.
Candy squeaks us right, through a red light. She’s pumping it, she’s fucking the road. She’s fucking laws. She’s fucking chance. She’s fucking Cock and Cock’s Camaro and she’s fucking the three of us in it. Boom!
Jacobi’s still behind us.
“What’s wrong with this motherfucker?”
“He’s probl’y just lonely!”
“Can’t you call him?”
“I am! He won’t pick up!”
Candy fucks another red light. She fucks a neighborhood watch. She fucks a school zone and we’re up on the grass—corner of a playground—but Jacobi’s bike outdoes us in every category. It’s the thrust-to-weight ratio, the torque, something—Jacobi’s always telling me about it.
Jacobi’s fat belly is hanging off his bike. He’s cornering it.
Didn’t even hit the playground at all.
Hopefully there’s a cop up here. He can stop us all. How we got Becca into this I don’t know. Why did we need her again? Oh wait. I hope there’s not a cop. I forgot. This chrys is wearing off. When I get home I’m gonna do another shot.
Candy’s in third gear. I know she wants to do second.
“Don’t do it.”
Candy’s punching the rear-view.
Jacobi’s on us. Right behind.
Candy pops it into second.
This is a neighborhood. It’s 2:31.
Candy punches out the mirror.
It falls.
The whole enclosure falls from the windshield.
“You emphwork with this guy?!” Candy accuses me. Then Candy accuses Becca: “And emphyou live next to im?!” Then she’s back to me: “emphYou’re dealing with him. When we get there. You fucking deal with this bitch!” Candy looks up for the rear-view but it’s not there anymore.
She grabs it.
She turns around, one hand on the wheel.
We’re swerving.
Candy throws the mirror at Jacobi.
He swerves it. That fat motherfucker swerves it. He’s fine.
I’m gonna take care of this when we get home.
“Candy! Watch out!” Becca shouts.
Candy’s screeching it. She screeches to a halt.
“You emphdeal with that motherfucker when we get back.” It’s a middle-aged man, a man my age, who’s looking at us where we stop. Candy crawls over the seats and over the back of the Camaro. She steps on Becca’s leg. I’m looking at the middle-aged man. He’s out for a walk. Jacobi takes his helmet off. Candy smacks it out of his hands. She’s kicking him. “Stupid fucking queer! You know this is a kids’ neighborhood?!! Did you see how you’re driving! Did you see the sign? They have kids here!!” Candy’s kicking Jacobi’s tailpipe.
I’m back over the Camaro, careful not to step on Becca. “Jacobi. You can’t be here. Did you see the sign?” I’m holding back Candy. She’s flailing. “You can’t drive like that in this neighborhood. There’s kids here.”
All Jacobi says is: “How’d she know I’m queer?”
Candy’s making some nonsense words. She sits on the street. She lights a cigarette. I take it from her. She lights another. I’m smoking it.
This walking guy is just standing there, watching us.
Candy gives his ass the finger.
He stares.
“Look. Jacobi. Everyone knows.”
Candy shakes her head.
Becca’s looking at us.
The street guy is looking at us.
Jacobi whimpers: “Even Winnie?”
“Yeah. Man. It doesn’t matter—”
“But how did she know?”
Candy talks through the cigarette: “It’s fucking obvious.”
“Jacobi, you’ve got to go home.”
“But what are you guys doing? Is it like a party?”
Candy shakes her head and stands. She glares at the neighborhood dude. I think if he had his phone he’d call the cops.
“It’s not a party, man, we’ve gotta get this babysitter to her kid.”
Jacobi looks to Candy for confirmation.
“That’s right, man.” Candy’s getting back inside the car. “We’ve got. To get. This fucking. Babysitter! To my fucking kid! Fuck!” She hits the dash.
“It’s not a party?”
“No.”
Jacobi’s off his bike. He’s getting his helmet. “I think,” he says, “if you gave me a chance. That you’d see I’m an okay guy.”
Candy lays on the horn. Becca tries to get her to stop. Candy ignores her.
“We’ve got to go,” I tell Jacobi.
“Did you get rid of him?” Candy doesn’t turn around.
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay? We’ll talk then.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“I’ll see you Monday.”
“I know you’re going to a party,” Jacobi says. “She’s not a babysitter.”
“Yes I am!” Becca shouts. She’s standing up in the back seat of the Camaro and Candy almost shits a brick laughing.
“That’s right, Becca. emphCap that nigger.”
“Can you please not say nigger?!!” I yell.
“Look faggot.” Candy stands. She’s got one leg over the side of the car. “Go. Home.” She signs like he’s a retard.
“Drive safe, okay?”
“Why don’t you call me for drinks sometime?” Jacobi says.
Candy signs it for him: “He’s not gay. He doesn’t want to have drinks with you. Richard! Let’s go!” She motions to the walking guy. “Call emphthis fucker for drinks, he’s available now.” Candy honks the horn.
“She’s drunk.”
“I know.”
“Drive safe, okay. Drive slow. I’ll see you Monday.”
Jacobi lingers. “It’s not a party?”
“No.”
“How long have you known..that I’m..”
“Seventeen years. See you Monday.”
I’m back in the Camaro.
“Did we lose him?”
Becca is the only one of us who’s looking back.
“I think so,” I say.
Candy quotes Pulp Fiction. “We don’t wanna think,” she says, “We wanna know.”
It’s the sound of the bike whining back along the road.
The walking guy starts walking again.
Candy drives real slow beside him.
“You’re gonna forget you saw this,” she says.
The guy looks straight ahead.
Candy stays on it.
“Mr. Abbott. Hey, fuckhead, I’m talking to you.”
Candy’s lights shine in the darkness.
“Mr. Abbott. You remember me?”
The guy says: “Yeah.”
“Well I remember you, too. I remember where you live. How’s Mrs. Abbott?”
The guy looks at her. “She’s dead.”
“What’s your first name?”
The guy’s face is sour. “It’s Carl.”
“Right. Carl. Forget what you saw here. What’s the matter with you, you can’t sleep? You know what I always do for that?” Candy says.
But I say: “Leave him alone.”
Becca is mortified. She won’t look at any of us.
“Wha’d you see out on your walk tonight, Carl?”
“Nothing,” Carl says.
And Candy says: “That’s right.”