“Some horror movie,” Liam says. “Take your coat off and stay awhile.”
“Where’s Pam?” Danny asks.
“Zonked out in the bedroom,” Liam says. “Valium.”
Can he see it in my eyes? Danny wonders. Hear my heart pounding? Know I won’t take my jacket off because a .38 is in the pocket? Probably not, Liam’s too self-absorbed to notice anyone else’s shit.
“You don’t have, like, a Coke or something?” Danny asks. “Ginger ale?”
“Go in the kitchen and look,” Liam says.
Danny gets up and goes into the kitchen, finds a Coke in the fridge, comes back into the living room and stands behind Liam, who seems absorbed with the horror movie.
This is the time, Danny thinks. Right now.
He grabs the gun inside his right jacket pocket and takes it out. Eases the hammer back, hopes that Liam don’t hear the click.
He don’t. He’s devouring the fucking hamburger, laughing at the cheesy monster that’s crossing the screen toward the little fake Japanese city. Not a care in the world, Liam. It’s his fucking universe and the rest of us are just renting space.
Danny holds the gun low, behind the back of the couch where Liam can’t see it if he turns around. “Hey, Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“You remember catechism?”
“How could I fucking forget?”
“Yeah, well, I was trying to remember the Act of Contrition. Jimmy and I had a bet and I couldn’t remember it.”
“Child’s play,” Liam says, his eyes not leaving the screen. “Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee—”
Do it now. To hell with his immortal soul, do it now.
“And I do detest all my sins—”
Danny lifts the pistol.
“Not because I fear hell, but because—”
Then he hears the toilet flush, the old plumbing whine.
Pam’s awake.
Danny hears water running. She’s washing her hands.
Jamming the gun back in his pocket, Danny says, “Hey, Liam, I better go.”
“You just got here.”
Pam comes in the room.
“I’m going to give you guys a little privacy,” Danny says.
“Privacy is what we’ve got,” Pam answers. “We got plenty of privacy, don’t we, Liam?”
Danny goes back to his car.
He don’t think he could have done it anyway.
Danny drives back to Dogtown, can only find a parking spot three blocks from the house, and has the heebie-jeebies as he walks.
This is what it’s going to be like, he thinks, for the rest of my short fucking life. Looking over my shoulder, hearing sounds that ain’t there, scared of what’s around every corner.
He hears a car coming slowly up behind him and forces himself not to run. Jams his hands inside his jacket pocket and feels for the .38. Grips it hard, then lets himself have a glance over his shoulder.
It’s a cop car.
Not a black-and-white, but an unmarked Crown Vic that the plainclothes guys use. It pulls up beside him and the front passenger window rolls down. Danny half expects a blast of bullets—his heart is in his freakin’ throat and he feels like he might piss his pants, but O’Neill says, “Take it easy. While you’re at it, take your hands out of your pockets for me, okay?”
Danny can see past him to where Viola sits behind the wheel.
“It’s okay,” O’Neill says. “Someone just wants a word with you.”
Danny carefully takes his hands from his pockets. O’Neill gets out, pats him down and takes the piece from him. “I’ll give it back after you have your conversation.”
He opens the rear door and Danny gets in.
Peter Moretti sits there.
Danny tries to get out but the door is locked. The two cops stand out on the sidewalk and grab a smoke.
“I just finished visiting my brother in the hospital,” Peter says.
“How’s he doing?”
“He got a fucking bullet hole through his leg,” Peter says, his temper flaring. He takes a breath and says, “But he’s going to be okay.”
“That’s good.”
“Fucking A, that’s good,” Peter says. “Listen, Danny, I wanted to have a word with you, tell you that we got no beef with the Ryans. We already know you had nothing to do with the disgraceful action that occurred this afternoon.”
“Peter, the Murphys didn’t—”
Peter holds up his hand. “Don’t even bother. That train has left the station. There is no possibility of a peace with the Murphys, even if they dangle that little piece of shit motherfucker from the flagpole at the statehouse. What I came to tell you is the Ryan faction can sit this one out. The Murphys put you in a very difficult position; you have every right, on the basis of that, to opt out of this war.”