Линвуд Баркли - Find You First

Miles went around to the passenger side, where he encountered the biggest car door he had ever seen. And then he remembered that the Pacer had been designed with a longer right-side door to allow easier access to the rear seat. The door sagged when he opened it, as if too heavy for the hinges.

“When you get in,” Chloe said, “you have to pull really hard to get it back in place.”

“Noted,” Miles said, getting both hands on the armrest and pulling with everything he had.

“Okay, let’s hit the road. But first...” She took out her phone. “You got some sort of ID?”

“Huh?”

“Driver’s license or something?”

Miles blinked, took out his wallet, and dug out his license. Chloe took it in one hand and took a picture of it with the other.

“What are you—”

“Hang on,” she said. She handed back the license and did some swift tapping, followed by a whoosh . “Emailed it to Viv, at the diner. In case you’re actually a strangler-rapist-serial-killer guy.”

“Understood.”

Still holding the phone, she said, “I’ve been documenting all these encounters, you know, relating to my family history, my background. I’ve been doing video of my grandfather, and Todd, and I should have recorded our whole meeting just now.”

“That’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not. I really want this stuff. It’s important. You hold this and shoot while I’m driving, okay? ’Cause I can’t exactly film and drive at the same time. If I’m talking, shoot me, and if you’re talking, do the selfie thing. Can you do that?”

“I suppose. So we’ll use the time to tell each other a little more about ourselves?”

“Exactly,” she said, cranking the wheel and hitting the gas. The back wheels kicked up gravel. She glanced in the rearview mirror, saw the black limo falling in behind. “Hope I didn’t chip her paint.”

Miles asked her to tell her story first. She said she didn’t need him to record much of that, since she already knew it. But she told him about her upbringing, about having two mothers, the teasing and the abuse she got from other kids growing up, and how that wasn’t entirely a bad thing because it had toughened her up, taught her not to give a shit about what other people think.

She told him about the video interviews she had done with her grandfather. “You never know how much time he’s got left, so you want to find out as much as you can, while you can.”

“I understand.”

She glanced over at him, grimaced. “Sorry. That came out sounding a little insensitive.”

“That’s okay.”

“My mom’s going to be pissed,” she said.

“Why?”

“She thinks this is a bad idea.”

“You told her we were driving up to see your half brother?”

“Not that. This whole thing about finding out who you are. I don’t mean you . I mean, like me . She didn’t want me sending my DNA to WhatsMyStory. She was furious about it. And now, out of the blue, you getting in touch, me finding out who you are, that just might push her over the edge.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“She feels threatened. For so long it’s just been me and her. We were this tiny contained unit, you know? But me finding out about half siblings, it’s like, what’s that phrase? They’re going to breach the ramparts?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck is a rampart?”

“It’s like a castle wall.”

She nodded, eyes on the road ahead. “Okay, point the phone at yourself. It’s twenty questions time.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna ask you some shit, see if we really have stuff in common.”

“Okay,” he said, holding up the phone and aiming it at himself.

“Favorite movie?”

Miles thought for a moment. “I have a couple. The Godfather , the second one. Rear Window .”

“Rear what?”

“ Rear Window . A Hitchcock classic.”

“The fat bald guy?”

“Yeah. The fat bald guy. You?”

“ Lady Bird ,” she said.

“I never got to that one.”

“Okay, so that was a miss. Favorite ice cream?”

“Butter pecan,” he said, and instantly saw the disappointment on her face.

“Rocky road,” she said.

“They both have nuts in them,” Miles said, but Chloe did not look encouraged.

“Favorite TV show,” she said. “Of all time.”

“ The Wire ?”

“Oh, come on, that’s everybody’s go-to answer. Be a little original.”

Miles had to think again. “I guess maybe Six Feet Under , about the family that ran the funeral home. Although, given the theme, I might not enjoy it as much today. You?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” he said, now aiming the phone at her.

“Mister Rogers. He died around the time I was born and so they weren’t making any new shows. But my mom found tons of episodes at a flea market that someone recorded on videocassette. Remember VCRs?”

“I do.”

“So I had about fifty episodes that, when I was little, I’d watch over and over again.” She bit her lower lip for a second. “I used to imagine he was my dad.” She glanced over at Miles. “I bet you don’t even own a cardigan.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, gonna give this one last try. Favorite fast food.”

“Pizza.”

“God damn it,” Chloe said, banging her fist on the steering wheel. “Tacos.” She shook her head and looked at him sorrowfully. “No way you’re my dad.”

“I guess there’s no point even doing a DNA test,” he said. “Can I put the phone down now?”

“Hell no. Keep shooting. Tell me your story.”

He told her about growing up in Stamford. His father, an insurance salesman, was an alcoholic. His mother dealt with her husband’s addiction by taking pills. Despite their addictions, they managed to get through each and every day, doing their best to fool the world into thinking they were a happy couple when in fact they were barely holding it together. For Miles and his older brother, Gilbert, home life was akin to walking on eggshells. His father was consistently abusive emotionally and, occasionally, physically. When Gilbert left to go to college, Miles knew he couldn’t survive in that house if no one was there to have his back, so he left, too. Not officially. But he bounced around from one friend’s house to another until he finished high school, and then he was gone for good.

“Are your parents still alive?”

“No. After my brother and I left the nest, they were in a car accident.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Yes,” he said.

That surprised her. Her eyebrows shot up for a second. “Really?”

“They’re my mom and dad,” he said.

“You and your brother — shit, I just realized I have an uncle — are you close?”

Miles considered the question. “We have been. He works for me. But I think this would be the wrong week to ask him if he feels close to me. My arm’s getting tired holding this phone.”

“Suck it up. What’s the deal with your brother? Why’s he pissed with you?”

Was he ready to get into it? About how he planned to disperse his estate? He’d made it clear to Chloe he was well fixed, but if it had occurred to her some money might be coming her way, she gave no indication.

“Long story,” he said, finally, putting down the phone and turning off the video function.

They made a stop at a fast-food burger place — they hadn’t passed any place advertising pizza or tacos — and Miles invited Charise to join them.

Charise, a large woman who tipped the scales at 225, said she was trying to eat more healthily, but one whiff of all that grease weakened her resolve.