George Pelecanos - Right as Rain

Strange knew Lionel had been smoking herb, or doing something other than just drinking, as soon as he walked through the front door. Lionel's pupils were dilated, his movements awkward and slow. He didn't look his mother in the eye as he greeted them with a 'Hey' and tried to get past them and up the stairs without another word.

'Hold on a minute, Lionel,' said Janine.

'What is it?' he said, looking at her directly for the first time. He glanced at Strange, then back at his mother, and an impudent smile threatened to break on his face.

'Where you been, son?'

'Out with Ricky, just rollin', listenin' to music… Can't you just let me go up to my room for a change? You always be stressin' and shit.'

Janine rose up from her seat. 'Don't you be takin' a tone with me, young man. Me and Mr Derek been sitting up, worried that you were in some kind of trouble, or worse. And now you come walking in here late, lookin' all red-eyed-'

'How about y'all?'

'What?'

'Forget it, Mama,' said Lionel, with a wave of his hand. He turned and went up the stairs.

Janine froze for moment, then moved to follow her son. Strange took hold of her arm.

'Hold up, baby. I'll talk to him, all right?'

On the second floor of the house, Strange knocked on Lionel's closed door. Lionel did not respond. Strange turned the knob and walked inside the bedroom. Lionel was standing, looking through his window, which gave to a view of the street. Strange crossed the room and stood beside him. Lionel turned to face him.

'Lionel?'

'What?'

'You know your mother loves you, right?'

'Sure.'

'When she asks you where you been all night, it's just her way of lettin' off a little steam. She's been sittin' down in that living room, worried sick about you, for the last two hours, and you come through that door, she's got to give you a taste of what you been puttin' her through all night.'

'I know it. It's just… I'm nearly a man, Mr Derek. I don't need all these questions all the time, see what I'm sayin'?'

'While you're livin' under her roof, and she's payin' for that roof, it's something you're just gonna have to deal with.'

'And there goes Mama, tellin' me my eyes are lookin' red, when y'all look like you been smokin' cheeva your own selves.'

'We drank a few bottles of beer, tonight, that's all,' lied Strange. 'I don't know, maybe we had one too many, but we did have fun. I'm not gonna go and apologize for that, 'cause your mama deserves it, hard as she works. But I never did claim I was perfect, even when I was trying to warn you about all the ways you can mess your life up before you even get out of the gate. Now, I told you what I thought about you drivin' around in that fancy car, gettin' high. I still think you're setting yourself up for something that could affect you your whole life. And your life ain't even started, son.'

'You're not my father,' said Lionel softly, and at once his eyes filled with tears. 'Don't call me son.'

Strange put his hand on Lionel's shoulder. 'You're right. I never did have the kind of courage it takes to be a father to a boy for real. But there's sometimes when I look at you, when you're making one of your jokes at the dining room table, or when I see you dressed up, lookin' all handsome and ready to go out and meet a girl, and I get a sense of pride… There's sometimes when I look at you, Lionel, and I get the kind of feeling that I know a father must have for his own.'

Strange pulled Lionel to him. He felt Lionel's heart beating hard against his chest. He held Lionel for a little while and let him break away.

'Mr Derek?'

'Yes?'

'The way it is with you and my mother… What I'm tryin' to say is, I know what time it is, see? I know you're tryin' to not disrespect her by staying in her room while I'm here, but I was thinkin'… I was thinkin', see, that you disrespect her even more in some way by not waking up in her bed.'

'Huh?'

'What I'm sayin' is, I'd like it if you just went ahead and stayed the night.'

'I'll, uh, talk to your mother,' stammered Strange. 'See if that's all right.'

Strange went down the hall to Janine's room. Inside, Janine was sitting on her bed, the toes of her stocking feet touching the floor. Ronald Isley was singing 'Voyage to Atlantis' from the clock radio set on her nightstand, and she had turned the light down low.

'Everything okay?' she said.

'Fine,' said Strange. 'He wants me to spend the night.'

'Do you want to?'

'Yes.'

'You feed Greco?'

'I opened a can of Alpo for him before we left my house.'

'Come here,' said Janine. She smiled and patted the empty space beside her on the bed.

Quinn got out of bed, covering Juana to the neck with her own blanket and sheets. He had been watching the numbers change on the LED display on Juana's clock for the last two hours, and he knew that he would not fall asleep.

He was sober now. He stretched and walked naked to her window, turning the rod of the miniblinds to open an angle of sight. He looked out the window to the sidewalk on 10th, illuminated by street lamps. A young black man was walking down the sidewalk in an oversize, hooded jacket, glancing in the windows of the parked cars he passed.

Quinn made some immediate presumptions about the young man, all of them negative. Then he tried to think of other explanations for why the kid would be out at this hour on the street. Maybe the young man had been unable to sleep, like Quinn, and was simply taking a walk. Maybe he was just leaving his girlfriend's place, was feeling bold and proud, and was checking out his reflection in the windows of the cars. These were logical scenarios, but they were not the first scenarios he had thought of when he had seen the young black man.

Quinn thought of the first time he had seen Juana, when she had walked into the bookstore on Bonifant.

Strange had been right about something, whether Quinn had been fully conscious of it at first or not: he had approached Juana initially to make some kind of point, to himself and the world around him.

'God damn you, Terry,' whispered Quinn. He closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

On Sunday morning, Strange ate breakfast with Janine and Lionel at the Three Star Diner, on Kennedy Street in Northwest. The Three Star was owned and operated by Billy Georgelakos, the son of the original owner, Mike Georgelakos. Strange's father, Darius Strange, had worked for Mike as a grill man at the diner for twenty-five years.

Billy Georgelakos and Strange were roughly the same age. On Saturdays, when Mike and Darius both had of their sons with them, Billy and Strange had played together on these streets while their fathers worked. Strange had taught Billy how to box and make a tackle, and Billy had introduced young Derek to comic books and cap pistols. Billy was Strange's weekend playmate, and his first white friend.

When Mike Georgelakos died of a heart attack in the late sixties, Billy had dropped out of junior college and stepped in to take over the business, as there was no insurance or safety net of any kind for the family. He had not intended to stay, but he did. The neighborhood had gone through some changes, and the menu had moved closer to soul food, but Billy ran the place the same way his old man had, breakfast and lunch only, open seven days a week.

Strange knew that Mike Georgelakos had bought the property long ago – the Greeks from that generation were typically smart enough to secure the real estate – and consequently the nut at the Three Star was very low. The diner had sent Billy's two sons to college and had managed to support his mother as well. The other thing Billy did like his old man was to cut the register tape off two hours before closing time. With a cash business like this, you could hide a whole lot of money from the IRS.