Will ignored her sharp tone, concentrating on her words. “Beaufort? That’s where the Sea Islands are, right? Over in Carolina?”
Tony narrowed his eyes at Will. “Why you askin’?”
Will shrugged his shoulders. “I rode my bike through there a while back. Hit Charleston, Hilton Head. Made my way down to Savannah. Pretty coastline.”
Cayla’s lighter snapped as she lit another cigarette. “Yeah, well, Tony ain’t from the pretty parts. He spent his summers livin’ with his mama on the wrong side of Broad.”
While Will wasn’t surprised to learn that Tony was on the wrong side of anything, he was very curious about this new piece of information. The GBI had run an extensive background check on Anthony Dell. He was born just outside of Macon. His records had him living in the area all of his life, but there would be no mention in the files of where Tony spent his school vacations.
Will asked Tony, “You ever been to Hilton Head?”
Instead of answering, Tony just stared at Will. Suspicion oozed out of every pore.
Will stared back, wondering how far he should push it. Big Whitey had been tracked through both Hilton Head and Savannah. Tony had probably been hearing about the man for years. It suddenly made sense why he was so desperate to be part of the action. Little guys always wanted to run with the big dogs.
Cayla supplied, “Tony spent a coupla three summers on Hilton Head.” She arched an eyebrow at Tony. “His mama was a waitress when she wasn’t spreadin’ her legs for rent money.”
Tony’s face soured, but he didn’t contradict her.
Cayla continued, “She hopped around all the dive bars, worked until they got tired of her or realized she was stealing too much.” She took another hit from the cigarette. “Tony lived with her every summer since he was, what, Benji’s age? Weren’t you eight or nine when they got divorced?”
Tony gave a sulky one-shoulder shrug, but at least Will knew why this bit of history hadn’t come up on the background check. Unless a kid got arrested or ended up in juvie, there were very few public records until they turned old enough to buy a car, rent an apartment, or start paying taxes.
Will said, “I like it up there.”
“You mean over there,” Tony countered. His eyes went beady. “It’s over, not up.”
Cayla cut in, “It’s over and up, you idiot.”
“I know what a map looks like.”
Will let them argue. Geography had never been his strong suit, but he knew that South Carolina’s Lowcountry dangled into Georgia’s coast. He waited for a lull in the sibling spat, then said, “Better beaches on the coast than Florida’s got, anyway.”
“Whatta you know about Florida?” Tony demanded. He seemed angrier than the conversation warranted, which led Will to believe he was on the right track.
Will said, “It’s a state.”
“Don’t fuck me around, son.”
“Jesus, Tony.” Cayla huffed a stream of smoke. “What crawled up your ass?”
Tony leaned forward, his fists pressing into the table. He asked Will, “When you ever been to Florida?”
“He’s from Georgia,” Cayla said. “Where else is he gonna go on vacation?”
Tony wasn’t mollified. His anger filled the room. Benji went into lockdown mode. He slid down in his chair. His neck all but disappeared into his shoulders. He stared at his book like he’d never read it before.
Will took a bite of chicken. He chewed slowly, drawing out the time. Tony fidgeted. He was not a patient man. Will finally swallowed. “I was at MacDill.”
Cayla asked, “You were in the Army?”
“Air Force.” Will stared at Tony as he took another bite of chicken. The man had damn good reason to be suspicious. The coincidences were stacking up. MacDill Air Force Base was in South Tampa, not far from Sarasota, where Big Whitey had reportedly killed his first cop off the Tamiami Trail.
Cayla asked, “Were you an officer or anything?”
“I was target practice.” Will used a biscuit to soak up some grease on the plate. He popped it into his mouth, still keeping his eyes on Tony.
Cayla asked, “They kick you out?”
“We agreed to go our separate ways.”
She laughed, like he’d made a joke. “I woulda liked to’ve seen you in your uniform. You got any pictures?”
Will pretended he didn’t hear the question. Tony seemed incapable of doing the same.
“Why do you want a picture of him?” Tony yelled. “You ain’t never asked for no damn picture of me.”
Cayla rolled her eyes. She asked Will, “You ever been to Miami?”
Will shook his head. “Didn’t seem worth the trip.” Because Tony had a racist streak, he added, “A little too dark down there for my taste.”
Tony nodded, but he was still on edge. He obviously thought he had a shot at Cayla, which was equal parts alarming and disgusting. Will guessed it was better for Tony to be jealous than suspicious. Either way, he kept his eye on the man. It was always the little ones who fought dirty.
“Hey, Tony.” Cayla tried to break the tension. “You remember I went up the Tamiami a few years ago. Hit Naples, Venice, Sarasota. Me and Chuck took his Harley up the trail.”
“That fuckin’ tool,” Tony grumbled, the name obviously grating.
Will feigned disinterest. He peeled off the last piece of chicken and tossed it into his mouth. There was a toughness to Tony’s posture that he hadn’t seen before. Faith had a working theory that Tony Dell was more dangerous than they suspected. Will had shot her down because the guy came across as an irritant, more like a gnat. Looking at Tony now, Will wondered if Faith was right.
“You gonna drink that?” Tony asked.
He meant the beer. Will shrugged. “Help yourself.”
Tony pounded back the beer. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank too fast. Beer slid from the corners of his mouth. The requisite burp was followed by a bang as he slammed the can on the table.
Cayla ignored the display. She twisted the tip of her cigarette in the ashtray, shaping the end. She asked Will, “What were you in for?”
She meant jail. Will shrugged.
Cayla eyed him. “I bet you gotta strong temper on you.” She said it as a compliment. “That what got you into trouble?”
Will shrugged in a way that let her know she was right.
“Think I’ll have another.” Tony walked around the table, pressing his hand on the top of Benji’s head as he went to the fridge. Bottles rattled as he opened the door. Cayla had enough beer for the zombie apocalypse. There was hardly any food.
Tony asked Will, “Why’d you bail on the Air Force?”
Will gnawed at the chicken bones, sucking the marrow.
Again, Cayla tried to intervene. “I love those Gulf beaches with their white sand. Don’t you think, Tony? The Atlantic’s too cold.”
Tony beamed. All it took was a little positive attention. The tough guy was gone. The gnat was back. He joked, “Shit, girl. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know what beach I like.”
“You don’t know nothin’.”
Will let Tony and Cayla debate the finer points of sands and tourist bars while he watched Benji. The boy moved like a bird, his arms held close to his sides like he was afraid of knocking something over. At the children’s home, they had all eaten like ravenous animals, shoveling down food, wrapping their arms around their plates to keep thieves at bay. This kid had obviously been trained to be seen in public. He kept a napkin in his lap. He wiped his hands and mouth. He made sure that he chewed each bite before swallowing.
Will was a teenager before he realized that the reason he kept choking every time he ate was because he wasn’t chewing enough.
Benji gave Will a furtive glance. He knew he was being watched. Will winked at him. Benji quickly looked back down. He was probably thinking about his mother—wondering where she was, if she was thinking of him, what he’d done wrong to make her go away in th
e first place.
Will had seen that look before, too.
“Hey.” Tony snapped his fingers in Will’s face.
Will was with Bill Black on this one. He slapped away Tony’s hand.
“Damn, son.” Tony held his hand to his chest. He nodded toward the faucet. “I was just asking could you help me with that?”
Will realized he’d been hearing the leak since he walked into the kitchen. “Probably needs a new washer.”
Cayla’s voice got high-pitched, the way some women’s did whenever they asked a man to help them. “You wouldn’t mind fixing it for me, would you, Bud? I’m not good with tools.”
Will hesitated. Fixing things was what he did for Sara, like replacing a blown lightbulb or painting the tops of her doors. “Don’t have the right tools.”
“I got some in the truck,” Tony offered.
Before he could stop himself, Will said, “I thought you told me you borrowed the truck.”
Tony grinned. “Borrowed everything on it, son.”
“You got a washer?” Will asked. “That’s probably what it is. Might be ceramic. That’s not a cheap faucet.”
Cayla seemed pleased to hear this. “I got it at the Home Depot. Figured I could treat myself for once.”
“Store’s still open.” Tony started playing with the faucet. “Why don’t you and me go fetch a washer, fix this sink right up?”
Will sat back in his chair. He felt trapped between his job and Sara. He hadn’t forgotten about their conversation on the phone. His girlfriend needed him. At least she would until Will told her the truth. Then again, Tony seemed relaxed and chatty. He might be more forthcoming about his past without Cayla around.
Tony turned off the faucet. “Shit, Bud, come on. It ain’t like I’m askin’ you on a date.”
“Speaking of which,” Cayla inserted. “Bud, why don’t you follow Tony on your bike? That way you can drive yourself back here.”
“Hey, now,” Tony said. “That ain’t nice.”
“Ya think?” she countered. “Come on, Bud. That sink’s been driving me crazy for weeks.”
Will looked at Benji. The kid stared back. Will asked him, “What do you think?”
Benji chewed his lip. The skin was chapped. His eyelids were heavy. Will could see dark circles underneath. Maybe he stayed up nights looking out the window, waiting for his mother. Or maybe he couldn’t sleep because the guilt of losing her was too much.
Will stood from the table. Being around this kid was screwing with his head. “All right,” he told Tony. “Let’s go.”
Will rode alongside Tony in the truck. His bike was in the back, strapped down with some bungee cords Cayla had in her garage. Every turn, Will could hear the bike groan in protest, but the night had turned cold and rainy and Will was grateful to be in the warm, dry cab.
Tony was supposed to drop him off at the home improvement store. Will still couldn’t decide whether or not he was going back to Cayla’s. She’d seemed certain Will would return. She’d kept touching him—rubbing his back, grabbing his arm. She’d even kissed his cheek before he left. Will had tolerated the contact, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of returning to that cramped house with its stuffed dolls and air of desperation.
Besides, Tony was looking like the better way into Macon’s ever-changing drug scene. He’d loosened up on the drive. He talked a bit about Hilton Head, his boyhood summers spent sleeping on the beach and stealing wallets from stupid tourists who left their stuff out in the open while they swam in the ocean.
As with the previous night when they’d driven to Lena’s house, Tony was fidgety—playing with the radio, tapping his fingers on the dashboard, keeping one hand barely on the wheel. His music selection was surprising. The Madonna CD in the player was from the eighties. He hit the replay button on “Like a Virgin.”
“I saw her at the Atlanta Omni back in ’87.” Tony took a sip of beer. He’d already washed down a couple of pills from a Baggie in the glove compartment. “She’s a tiny little thing. Got them weird bras make her tits look like bullets.” Will stared out the window.
“Sorry about before,” Tony said. “When I got mad about Florida.”
Will shrugged.
“I had some bad shit go down in Sarasota when I was sixteen.” Instead of asking for more, Will shrugged again. “No problem.”
“Got arrested down there. Near ’bout got my ass throwed in jail.” He gave a wet-sounding belch. “Gave the cops my brother’s name. Half brother. He’s a stupid little shit. Got hisself thrown in for twenty years off a bank holdup.” Tony laughed. “Dumbass hit a bank. Can you believe that?”
Will shook his head. As crimes go, robbing a bank offered the lowest payout with the highest risk. “Not too bright.”
“You damn right. They tracked him straight back to his old lady’s door.” Tony finished the beer. He rolled down the window and threw out the can. “Don’t tell Cayla what I said about giving his name to the cops.”
“She won’t hear it from me.”
“Good deal.” He popped open another can of beer. “Cayla’s all hung up on us being related, but my daddy was with her mama less than two years. That ain’t nothin’. And even if it was, I don’t care.”
Will held back a response.
“I seen you lookin’ at her, Bud. I don’t mind that. I know she’s pretty. Lots of men like to look at her.” He pointed his finger Will’s way. “Just don’t touch her.”
There was a threat in his voice, but Will was so far removed from being interested in Cayla Martin that he couldn’t take it seriously.
“Her mama’s got four other kids. They put me in the basement with the boys. She used to come down there when she was drunk and show me a good time.”
Will’s shock must have been apparent.
Tony snorted beer up his nose. He coughed it out of his mouth. “No, man, not the mama. I’m talking about Cayla. She’d come down them stairs wearing her panties and a tight shirt and pretty soon the sheet I’m under’s lookin’ like a pup tent.” He chuckled at the memory. “I can’t even tell you the shit we got up to down there. Liked to burn down the house.”
Will fervently hoped he would not. “How long have you known her?”
Tony didn’t have to think about it. “Been in love with her since we was fifteen.”
“That’s a long time.”
“Damn right it is.”
Will looked out the window as Tony chugged his beer. There were three cans left in the six-pack. Will guessed from the shape and color of the pills in the Baggie that Tony had taken some Oxy.
Will said, “Slow down.”
Tony’s foot was already on the brake. He pressed the pedal, but the speed barely changed. “I know Cayla gives me shit sometimes, but I’m the one she always calls when she needs something.” He glanced at Will. “That’s when you know how a woman feels about you. The shit hits the fan, who does she call?”
Will tried not to think about Sara.
“You hear what I’m sayin’?”
Will nodded.
“I mean it, Bud. I love her. She’s the only damn reason I get up some mornings.” He wiped under his eyes with the back of his hand. “She’s all I got.”
Will didn’t have many male friends, but he gathered sitting around talking about love while listening to Madonna was not high on the list of manly pursuits. “You’re gonna grow a vagina if you keep talking like that.”
Tony barked a laugh. “Hell, Bud, that’s just what she does to me. Ain’t you never been in love?”
Will was so in love that he couldn’t see straight.
“What was it like at MacDill?”
Will took his time answering—not because he had to recall the details, but because Bill Black wasn’t the type to volunteer information. “Why do you want to know?”
“I dunno, man. Just curious. I knew a couple pilots from there. Sold ’em amp to keep ’em awake on long flights.”
So, that’s what Tony Dell wa
s doing in Sarasota.
Tony pressed, “What was it like?”
“Hot.”
“That’s Florida all right.”
Will stared out the window. They were on the highway now. Several cars were out, stragglers with a long commute. “What’s the story with your nephew?”
“Benji.” Tony put a nasty spin on the name that Will didn’t like. He probably thought the kid was in his way. “His mama’s a whore. Cops caught her smoking crack in front of him.”
“That’s too bad.”
“He’s a little shit. Keeps mouthing off at school. Cayla had to leave work to pick him up. He was suspended for two days.”
Will couldn’t imagine Benji mouthing off to a kitten. “He’s a skinny kid.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’re too busy hittin’ the pipe to stop and feed ’em.” Tony turned the radio back on. He scrolled through the song selections and settled on Cyndi Lauper.
“Seriously?” Will asked.
“I like strong women.” Tony hit the blinker as he slowed for a turn.
“Where are we going?” Will asked. Home Depot was by the hospital. They were heading in the wrong direction.
Tony held up the beer can. “Thought we’d get a real drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You’re not driving.” Tony took the turn. His voice had changed. The tough demeanor was back. “You serve overseas?”
“Why?”
“Just wondering.” Tony drank some more beer. “You been in Macon, what, two weeks?”
“Almost.”
“You lived in Atlanta before that?” Will didn’t answer.
“How’d you get the job at the hospital?”
Will tried to turn the situation back on itself. “You’re asking questions like a cop.”
“Shit.” Tony laughed. “You think I’m a cop?”
“Are you?”
He looked at Will over his beer can. “Are you?”
“Hell no, I’m not a cop.” Contrary to urban legend, law enforcement officers were free to lie with impunity. “Otherwise, I would’ve busted your ass ten days ago when I saw you taking pills off that cart.”
Tony laughed at the memory. “Near about shit my pants when I saw you looking.”