Tim watched the ember of his cigarette glowing in the dark. Above his head moths flew at the bulb hanging from the porch.
Behind him the door banged. Light steps and a nudge at his side a second later.
"I'm tired, dad," Jesse said. He leaned back against the wall and looked up at Tim.
"Won't be long," Tim said. "Go lie on the couch."
"Angela's watching TV, it's too loud. When's Jay getting back?"
"Soon," Tim said, staring into the darkness of the street.
He tossed the butt away, clenched his hands and loosened them.
The hinges creaked behind him again. Angela stood in the doorway, looked toward the street and shook her head.
"Back by eleven, right?" she said. "Told you the boy wasn't happy about that."
She didn't try and hide the fact she was amused by his son disobeying him.
"Just having too much fun playing video games," he said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.
It was only fifteen minutes. But that wasn't the point.
"Tony stayed out until eight the next morning once," Angela said. "When he came in I was like, where the hell where you? And he said he fell asleep at his girlfriends house while they were watching a movie."
"You believe that?"
"Why would he lie? I can't do anything to him."
Jesse sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"I hope he's not all night," he said.
"He won't be," Tim told him. Jay wouldn't dare. Tim gave a last look into the darkness then went inside to get another beer.
XXX
Tim watched the clock above Angela's TV crawl forward in time. 11.40. 11.55. 12.10
He shifted on the couch, unable to relax. Jesse slept beside him, slumped against the headrest. Anger and worry swayed in him.
"You know where this kid lives?" he asked Angela.
"I know," she said. "Why, you going to go and drag him home?"
He thought of all the long hours gone since Jay and Tony walked out of the house. Hours in which anything could have happened. Trouble could come in a heartbeat.
He didn't really give a shit if Jay was sitting in some kids living room playing video games until midnight. It was all the rest he could be doing.
Angela sighed.
"They'll be fine, the little shit's. Sure our mom never sat up waiting for us to come home."
"Yeah, and it worked out real well for us."
The phone rang and Angela jumped up from the couch. Tim realized she wasn't as calm as she'd been acting, Angela with her son who stayed out all night.
"Hello?"
Her voice was cautious.
"Yes," she said. "Ok ... oh ... that's good ... I will."
She hung up. Turned to him with an expression somewhat amused.
"That was the cops. Jay and Tony have been picked up."
"What the hell for?"
Being arrested was better than being in hospital, than being dead. But still the words fell heavily. He'd never wanted this either.
"Vandalism."
"That all?"
He was so relieved he almost could have laughed. Spray painting, or slashing tires, or whatever stupid idea they'd come up with. He'd outgrown shit like that by the time he was twelve.
"Yeah. Cops said the guy who's windows they broke doesn't want to lay charges so they can go, just got to pick them up."
Tim already had his keys out.
"I'll get them," he said.
XXX
It was a lot of years since Tim had walked into a police station. In his younger days he'd have been marched beside a cop or two, hands behind his back, bursting with defiance.
This time he was walking free, following along behind, the officer conversational, relaxed.
"Gave 'em a cell to themselves," he said. "Hopefully it's given them a scare, taught them a lesson."
Tim didn't answer. The cop stopped and turned to him outside a closed door.
"Hope you'll set him straight at home though," he said. "They got lucky this time."
His expression was smug. As if he knew things Tim didn't.
"I'll talk to them," Tim said, keeping his tone neutral. He wasn't on the cops side, not ever.
The cop looked at him, holding the key to the door.
"Tim Shepard," he said. "I remember your name."
Then he opened the door to the cell where Tim's son was. A hundred damning things unspoken. Tim gritted his teeth, said nothing. It didn't matter what the cop thought because it was wrong.
Tim waited while the door was unlocked and pushed open. The boys were lounging on a narrow bench, legs sprawled, looking for all the world like they were hanging outside a shop. The kind of boredom of kids waiting for a bus.
Tim tried to stomp down the anger stirring up in him again. They hadn't been here anymore than an hour. Try two fucking days and no one shows to get you, he could have told them. Try a six month stint in reform school.
"Your free to go now."
They both stood. Tony looked right at him but Jay didn't. Tim looked at his sons blank eyes, the set jaw. He doesn't want you to know what he's thinking, Angela had said. Tim had thought he knew everything about Jay, but now he wondered.
They walked ahead of him out of the station. Swaggers to their step, shoulders rolling. Like boys who thought being thrown in a cell could make them a man.
Tim had the urge to grab them each by a shoulder and shake them until their teeth rattled. To show them they weren't half as big and tough as they thought they were. They were only boys and the prison system was a place which could swallow you up and never let you go.
The drive back to Angela's place was silent. Jay stared out the window. Tim kept smelling beer and he didn't know if it was on his own breath or the boys. Jay rolled down the window a little, leant his head toward the cool drift of air.
Tim got out of the car with Tony at Angela's house and walked up to the door with him. Tony stumbled on the uneven path.
Tim grabbed his shoulder and steadied him. Held on and pulled him closer.
"You should be helping your mom, not giving her trouble," he said.
Tony was rigid under his hand. Tim could smell booze again.
"I help her out some. Shit load more than you do."
They were at the door but Tony stood there, making no move to open it.
"I'm not here," Tim said. "You are."
Tony curled his lips a little. "Yeah, stuck here. No one else stuck around that didn't have to."
Tim watched the boys sneering mouth, his hurt eyes. For a moment the blond kid reminded him more of Curly than Jay with his mirror image black curls and blue eyes ever had.
"Your mom's here too. She's doing her best for you."
Tony stared back at him. But he was motionless, waiting. Under the sulky expression was something like hope. For a minute Tim was the eighteen year old again. Seeing a boy gazing at him like he'd kill and die and risk prison for a scrap of his attention.
"Listen, I was in your shoes. Our old man took off way back, we don't even know where the hell he went. I was the oldest son and everyone was looking to me."
"Yeah, and I know you was nothing but a hell raiser," Tony said.
"If I could change what I did, I would," Tim said. "That's what I'm telling you."
"Well I never been to prison or run no gang, so don't tell me what to do."
"Is that what you want?" Tim asked him. "getting jailed?"
There was a second of silence before Tony shook his head.
"No."
"Why you getting picked up by the fucking cops then?"
Any softness he'd seen in the boy was snapped away. His gaze hardened, his shoulders straightened.
"Maybe Jay'll tell you," he said.
The door opened behind him. Angela stood there, eyeing him up, her expression weary, resigned.
Tim was reminded of his own mother, of the nights she saw him brought home by police or staggering in drunk or bloodied.
But then Angela reached out a hand to turn his face toward her.
"You alright? You not hurt?"
"I'm fine," he said. He shrugged her hand off and headed down to his bedroom.
Jesse was still asleep on the couch. He didn't stir as Tim carried him out to the car. Both his sons were silent as he drove out, Jesse breathing evenly, Jay staring out the window still.
"You tell me what happened, Jay," Tim said as they pulled out of Angela's street.
Jay turned to face him.
"Chucked rocks at some guys windows. A cop car come around the corner right as I was throwing one. Shit luck, huh?"
There was the same defiance in his tone as when he'd told Tim he smoked. A dare, a goad. So he kept calm, one hand on the wheel, one on the gear stick.
"Now what where you doing that for?"
"He deserved it. Because he's a killer."
And right then Tim knew. He knew and Jay was going to say it anyway and he did.
"The fucking guy who killed your brother."
The guy who was the reason he'd left Tulsa. He couldn't stay and watch him live, he couldn't kill him and go to prison, leave his son to grow up alone like he did.
He wondered if Jay understood it was for him. Everything was for him and Jesse and no one else.
"There," Jay said, flicking his hand at the window, toward a row of wooden houses. "He lives right there dad."
a/n; Hope the story is going ok, I am trying not to drag it out too much. Getting close to the end!