“He’s one guy, we’ll kick his butt.”
“Good luck with that,” Mary said.
Howard wished Orc was here. With Orc at his side, he didn’t have to put up with any of Mary’s lip. But one-on-one was a different story.
“You want me telling Caine you’re on Sam’s side?” Howard demanded.
“I didn’t say I was on anyone’s side. I’m on the side of the prees I take care of. But here’s what I notice, Howard: I notice you hear Sam’s name and all of a sudden you’re ready to wet yourself. So, you know what? Maybe it’s you who is disloyal. After all, if Caine is so great, why would you be scared of Sam? Right?” She leaned against her basket and got it rolling again.
Howard swallowed hard and argued with his own fear. “It’s no big thing,” he told himself. “We have Caine and Drake and Orc. We’re cool. We’re cool.”
He believed that for a good twenty seconds before he broke and ran for Orc.
Orc was in the house he had taken over and now shared with Howard, just across the street from where Drake lived. It was on a short street, the closest place to town hall that you could live. Kids called it Bully Row.
Orc was asleep on the couch with a DVD of a kung fu movie playing at blasting volume on the TV. Orc had taken to staying up through the night and sleeping days.
It was a lousy house, in Howard’s opinion, badly decorated and smelling of garlic, but Orc hadn’t cared. He wanted to stay close to the action in town. And he wanted to stay close enough to keep an eye on Drake across the street.
Howard searched for the remote and shut off the TV. There were empty beer cans on the glass-topped coffee table, and cigarettes in an ashtray. Orc was now drinking a couple beers a day.
Since Bette. That’s when the drinking had started in earnest. Howard was worried about Orc. Not that he exactly liked him, but Howard’s fate was bound up with Orc’s and he didn’t like the picture of what his world would be like if Orc dumped him.
“Orc, get up, man.”
No response.
“Orc. Get up. We have trouble.” Howard poked him in his shoulder.
Orc opened one slit eye. “Why are you bothering me?”
“Sam Temple is coming back.”
It took Orc a while to process that. Then he sat up quite suddenly and grabbed his forehead. “Oh, man. Headache.”
“It’s called a hangover,” Howard snapped. Then, when Orc shot him a murderous look, he softened and said, “I have some Tylenol in the kitchen.” He filled a glass of water and tapped two pills into his palm and brought them back for Orc.
“What’s the big deal?” Orc asked. He’d never been exactly quick, but now Orc’s thick-headedness was really irritating Howard.
“The big deal? Sam is coming back. That’s the big deal.”
“So?”
“Come on, Orc. Think about it. You figure Sam is cruising into town and he doesn’t have some kind of plan? Caine isn’t here, man, he’s up the hill. Drake, too. Which means it’s you and me in charge.”
Orc reached for one of the beer cans, rattled it, sighed contentedly when he heard an inch of beer sloshing. He poured it down his throat.
“So we have to go kick Sam’s butt?” Orc asked.
Howard hadn’t thought that far ahead. If Sam was back, that wasn’t good. Sam was back and Caine wasn’t? It was hard to figure that out.
“We go spy him out, man. We see what he’s up to.”
Orc squinted. “If I see him, I’ll kick his butt.”
“We have to at least figure out what he’s after,” Howard cautioned. “We should get whoever is around at town hall. Mallet, maybe. Chaz. Whoever we can find.”
Orc stood up, belched, and said, “I gotta pee. Then we’ll get the Hummer. Go kick some butt.”
Howard shook his head. “Orc. Listen to me. I know you don’t want to hear this, but backing Caine may not be the winning move.”
Orc stared his blank, stupid stare.
“Orc, man, what if Sam wins this? I mean, what if Sam gets over on Caine? Where does that leave us?”
Orc didn’t answer for so long, Howard was sure he hadn’t heard him. Then Orc heaved up a sigh that was almost a sob. He grabbed Howard’s arm, something he never did.
“Howard: I killed Bette.”
Howard said, “You didn’t mean to, Orc.”
“You’re the smart one,” Orc said sadly. “But sometimes you’re dumber than me, you know that?”
“Okay.”
“I killed someone didn’t do me any harm. Astrid ain’t ever going to even look at me again unless she’s hating me.”
“No, no, no,” Howard argued. “Sam is going to need help. He’s going to need someone tough. If we go to him now, eat crow, you know, say, ‘Yeah, you’re the man, Sammy.’”
“You kill somebody, you burn in hell,” Orc said. “My mom told me that. Once my dad was beating on me, we was in the garage, so I grabbed up a hammer.” Orc now pantomimed the scene. Grabbing the hammer, looking at it, raising it. Then he let it drop. “She said, ‘You kill your father, you’ll burn in hell.’”
“What happened then?”
Orc held up his left hand. He pushed it close to Howard’s face. There was a scar, almost perfectly round, no more than a quarter inch across.
“What’s that?” Howard asked.