“Today he is,” Burt Webb says.
The standoff doesn’t last but a few seconds longer. The two punks turn and walk away, as if they’ve determined that the show is over, or that they’ve taken this as far as they can. The people behind them give them so much room to let them pass, it’s as if they’re afraid they might catch something.
When they get to the tennis courts, somehow sensing that Burt is still eyeballing them, they turn and give him the finger.
As we walk back toward the bike, I say, “You convinced it’s the Crocketts taking these girls?”
“Iknowit’s them,” he says. He stops and takes one last look at the bike, like a kid looking at his own. “Now I just have to find a way to prove it.”
“Just do me a favor,” I say, “and try not to take any dumb-ass chances while you do.”
Somehow he manages a grin, one built out of practically nothing.
“I should be telling you the same thing,” he says.
SIXTY-FIVE
I’D INVITED VINCE over for dinner tonight. EJ then suggested—make that ordered—that I invite Abby Wells, too.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have a nice girl like her in your life,” she’d said.
“She already is in my life, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Not the way I meant, Silas,” she said. “Listen, just because you can’t have…”
I looked at her, knowing where this was going. We both did, and there was no need for her to complete the thought. “Can’t have what?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Just tell Abby to be here around six thirty.”
Despite the sad events of another bad day in Cross Rivers, it turns out to be a pleasant evening at EJ’s table. A lot of it has to do with the upbeat presence of Miss Abby Wells, who’s reminding me tonight, in a big way, why I’d liked her the way I had in high school, why I was as happy to be walking into the prom with her as she was with me.
Maybe more.
Not that I’m going to mention that particular fact to mygrandmother, and risk having a whole can of I-told-you-so being opened up on me later on.
But it’s not only Abby making the night. It’s EJ’s food. Not just chicken-fried steak, though that’s clearly the main event, mostly because of the best white gravy I’ve ever tasted anywhere. There are also mashed potatoes on the side, both green beans and English peas, a bowl of fried okra, and corn muffins EJ had taken out of the oven right before we sat down, butter already melted into them.
Vince puts his head back and says, “If you somehow choose to take me tonight, Lord, at least I’ll die happy.”
“Oh, shut up and pass the potatoes,” Abby says, “before we all die before we get our own second helpings.”
I laugh and so does everybody else. EJ looks pleased to hear that sound come out of me. Almost as happy as Abby herself does.
“So tell me, Abby,” EJ says. “What kind of date was my grandson in high school?”
Now I put my head back. “Take me, Lord, right along with Vince, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Abby pokes me with an elbow.
“For somebody as big as he is,” Abby says, “he was very cute and very shy. And a gentleman, too. Well, most of the time.”
I look up again. “Any time now, Lord.”
“Not when things are starting to get good,” Vince says.
“I shouldn’t be telling him this,” Abby says. “But I remember being a little surprised, when we did start dating, how intelligent he was.”
“And not just another dumb jock?” I tell her. “Is that what you’re really trying to say here?”
