Chapter 37 - Say Something

Monday, June 22

8:30am

Veronica

"Friday?" Veronica nods. "I can make that work."

The receptionist repeats the time back to Veronica. Hopefully, this therapist will be the right mix of solicitous and dim-witted—enough to let her prattle on, but slide on the actual therapy part of the sessions until she solves Sam's murder.

She hangs up, ignoring the unanswered voicemails on her phone from Mac, Char, Dick, and Logan. They're duplicates, she sure, of the texts she already replied to. One bad night and it was like right after Sam died, with the solicitous asks of, "Are you okay?" and, "Do you need anything?". Honestly, if she has to hear that apologetic tone in any of their voices one more time, she might have to change her number. And her address. Maybe even her name.

Gai's not up—sleeping in is his new normal, it seems. Veronica knocks and opens his door when there's no answer. She kicks her way through the mess on the floor, taking in his new decorating aesthetic. His sax, which Gai was always meticulous about, lies where it landed, tossed carelessly on the spare bed. Clothes cover the floor, mixed up with the Hot Wheels she hasn't seen him play with in years. Half-shoved under the bed is a wooden box Veronica thinks usually houses said Hot Wheels; next to it lays the guitar Sam gave him and poor Mr. Ness, Gai's stuffed mole toy.

Seeing the toys strewn about, she's a tad mollified to know there's still a kid in her kid.

"Hey," Veronica picks up Mr. Ness and uses him to tickle Gai's nose. Nothing. Veronica removes the bluetooth headphones from Gai's ears, wrinkling her nose at the screeching noise coming out of them. "Hey, I said."

He grunts and stretches, his shirt riding up and exposing his stomach. The kid must have passed out listening to music last night because he didn't bother to change out of his clothes. One of Gai's eyes cracks open, sees her, and closes again. "What?"

"Don't what me, kiddo. It's 8:30. You need to pick up this mess so Connie can vacuum. She'll be here any minute."

"My room is fine. She can skip it."

"She skipped it last week. Clean it up or Mr. Ness," she tickles his nose again, "won't be the only rodent in here." Adopting, for no particular reason, a Cockney accent, she yells, "Rats, eye tell ye. Rats as big as me arm!"

She'd swear he opens his eyes just to roll them at her. "Moles are insectivores."

Keller barks a second before the front door opens. Veronica balances Mr. Ness on Gai's chest and stands up. "Get a move on."

She pauses in the door, waiting until he's sitting up before leaving him.

"Hey, Connie."

"Veronica!" Connie's smile is warm and wide as her hips. The many fine lines by her eyes crinkle up in pleasure as she absently pets Keller. "I haven't seen you in forever."

"I'm running late this morning."

Connie's voice drops and her eyes soften with kindness. "How are you doing?"

There it is, that apologetic, caring tone again, freezing the smile on Veronica's face. How fucking long does Sam have to be gone before people wipe that sympathy from their voice? Connie, though, gets a pass since she knew Sam most of his life. His grandfather was one of Connie's first customers when she opened her cleaning business thirty years ago, and theirs is one of the few houses she still cleans herself, so Veronica keeps the snip from her own voice. "Getting by. How about you?"

"Oh," Connie picks up her bucket of cleaning products and passes by Veronica, to pull the vacuum out of the hall closet. "You know me. Can't complain."

Gai steps around Connie, headed to the bathroom with an assortment of clothes clutched in his fists. "Hey, Connie."

"I'm heading out," Veronica calls to them both. "Connie, your check is on the fridge."

Connie waves a hand but, seeing Gai doesn't even acknowledge Veronica, raises an eyebrow when the bathroom door shuts.

"What's up with that?"

"You know Gai. He's always been precocious. Hitting the teens a little early."

"Ah. Want me to let you know if I come across any girlie magazines under his bed?"

Veronica bites her lip, wondering if lads bother with magazines anymore, given all the free porn available with a simple click. "Better to not look. Bye!"

8:30am

Logan

Five weeks. Five weeks since Eva left; it feels like a lifetime. So much has changed since they last spoke, last touched. Worst, though, is feeling like he can't even call her.

The scant text messages they've exchanged in the past couple of weeks have been logistics only. Logan gave her the name of a lawyer he contracted to transfer title on the house to Eva. She asked for an address to ship his books, and he told her to contact Diego, who'd transport them on their next shipment to SoCal.

It's hard to believe less than two months ago, if you put his world inside a small, glass globe, Eva stood at the center. Veronica was a rarely allowed memory, Dick and everyone else relegated to his childhood, and Gai didn't exist.

Now, it's as if someone gave that globe a good shake.

Logan's phone sits next to his plate, silent. Eva's not calling, Gai wouldn't if he was on fire, and Veronica—after the polite brush-off she texted him when he reached out yesterday, Logan guesses she'll be radio silent for a while.

Honestly, it might be a good thing. Grieving Eva is fucking lousy, but at least it's straightforward. Rebuilding his life here is, too. Establishing a home, a routine, making friends, and reconnecting with Trina, provided their weekly lunch dates continue to stay out of the tabloids.

With Veronica it's anything but straightforward. Sam's dead nine months and, near as he can tell, she hasn't tackled one emotion of that loss. So, as a friend, he's more than concerned. Why is she so stuck? What is avoiding her grief costing her? Costing Gai? How can he help? And, for fuck's sake, why is it harder to turn her away every time she reaches for him? When, given both their emotional states, indulging in the attraction that's so obviously still there between them could destroy them both?

"Can I have your toast?"

Logan pushes away thoughts of Veronica as he slides his untouched toast to Fish, who packs it away with one hand while scrolling through her phone with the other. By now they're so used to each other the silences are comfortable.

Like that damn echo chamber of a house he bought isn't quiet enough. Logan's come to love the sound of his sledgehammer and various other demo tools, since it's hard to think over them.

The waitress stops by their table. "Anything else?" Fish shakes her head, not looking up from her phone. "How about you, Dad?"

Logan starts, not expecting the first time someone addresses him that way it would be in a smoker's rasp, or from a slender, wrinkled, sixty-something with drawn-on eyebrows and a waist-length dyed-black ponytail.

"Yeah, Dad," Fish teases, smirking around the straw in her mouth. "Want anything else?"

"Just the check, thanks."

Once they're back in the truck, Logan turns down the radio. He's grateful the old pickup doesn't get satellite radio, specifically Fish's punk station. "You've been quiet."

"So have you," she says.

"How's it going? Your aunt still stuck on macaroni art?"

"Puzzles."

"How's your mom doing?"

"Fine."

"Heard anything from your dad?"

"Nope."

He stops at a light and points at the bare feet she's just put on his dash. Fish rolls her eyes and puts them down. "I thought you were just pissy about the new car."

"I'm pissy about slamming on the brakes and driving your knees into your chest."

"Then don't slam on the brakes."

She's in a mood, and Logan's sure he knows why. "Gai still mad you're surfing with me?"

Fish sighs, weary-like. "I don't think he cares anymore."

"Did you guys work things out?"

"No, he's just," she pauses, about to say something. "I don't know. Forget about it."

"Forget about what?"

She pulls her feet up onto the dash and hugs her thighs, laying her head on her knees to look out the passenger window and away from him. This time, Logan doesn't rebuke her for it.

He catches her shoulder before she can climb out of the truck. "Fish, what's going on with you and Gai?"

"Nothing, he's," she won't meet Logan's eyes. "He's just got other stuff going on."

"You mean, now that he has a girlfriend?"

Her "no" is tired, sincere, and also seems to be the opening to something, but Fish shakes her head and gets out of the truck. "See you tomorrow."

Logan watches her trudge into the house, carrying the weight of something he doesn't understand. He gives half a thought to talking to Veronica about it but dismisses the idea before it's fully formed. She knows the kids aren't getting along and, without more, anything he says will come across as paranoia, or an excuse to see her. Which, honestly, it may be.

12:00pm

Gai

If Mike annoyed him before, Gai's even more annoyed that he's gone half the time at some football camp, broing out. Lydia checking on him and offering snacks magnifies that he's being babysat. So stupid. He spends half the night wandering the neighborhood by himself, but Mom won't let him spend more than an hour alone in his own house.

He turns his headphones all the way up. Slayer pours into his ears and Gai concentrates on Tom Araya's voice. He's intentionally not looking up the lyrics to any songs, keeping his brain so busy trying to decipher and memorize the words he can't think about anything else. Using the straight pins he swiped from Lydia's sewing table, he works another under the callus on his hand. When he misjudges the depth, he barely feels the prick. Curious, he pushes the pin in farther. Blood blooms up, but the pain barely cuts through the numbness that covers him like a shroud.

Gai takes another pin and edges it under a fingernail, curious about how long he can last until it's too much. When Steph finally texts him, he finds Lydia in the backyard, pruning a flower bed. "I'm going to Cam's."

Lydia puts a hand up to shade her eyes. "Sorry, Gai. What did you say?"

"I'm going to Cam's."

"Is his mom home?"

Gai forces his eyes not to roll. "She just kicks us outside, anyway."

"Okay, but be back by three. We have to pick up Mike."

"Yep."

He's already got the gate between his and Mike's yard open, to shortcut to Cam's, when he hears her yell. "And text me if you go anywhere else!"

Gai waves a hand, pushing his knees at Keller to get her to back up so he can close the gate. She whimpers when he goes through the front gate, and he ignores her.

Slayer plays on. Gai's heart pumps to the beat of the drums, the bass; the fast strum of the lead guitar quickens his steps.

Cam's garage is too full for anyone to park in it and, except for the junker Zach's working on, all the cars are gone. Gai knows Cam went to work with his dad, which means Steph is alone.

And then she's in front of him, leaning in the open doorway. Today her shirt is blue, the same sapphire as her eyes, paint splattered and curve-hugging. She mouths "Hi," at him, smiling.

When she steps back to let him in, Gai follows as if she's a magnet, and kicks the door shut behind him. She says something else and he shakes his head, unable to hear her. Steph reaches out, grabs one of his buds, and shoves it in her own ear. She pulls his hand and flops onto the couch, Gai doing the same beside her.

Steph frowns and grabs his phone, changing it from Slayer to Clarence Carter, whom Gai introduced her to a couple of weeks ago, and turns the volume down. She puts her head back and closes her eyes, listening. On impulse, Gai leans over and kisses her neck. When Steph opens her eyes and meets his, he falls to her like a drowning man to air. With Steph in his arms, for the first time in days, Gai's head is quiet, empty, and he wants to live in this space between them forever.

The numbness retreats, allowing for a deluge of physical sensations and he's aware of little else—just the taste of her mouth, the rake of her fingers in his hair. Gai's hands go around her back, to pull her closer, closer.

He's so lost in Steph, and the quiet and the music and the rush of physical something that he's shocked when she turns her head and gasps. "Gai, stop."

It's like crashing. Everything he's avoiding floods back into his head. Gai desperately wants that quiet and that space back. He moves his mouth to her throat again, thinking maybe, if they go back a step, he can get there again.

Steph pushes him away, taking her ear bud out. "I said stop."

The shroud is back. Gai rips the bud out of his own ear and pinches it between his fingers. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" Steph stares at him, her eyes wide. "You didn't used to be like this. Every time we're alone anymore you," her cheeks, pink before, grow red. "Can't we just talk?"

Talk. Of all the things he wants to do with Steph, talking isn't one of them. It's all just sitting there, inside him, so much he can't even go around it. Not with her. One word and it'll all spill out.

No, he wants the quiet back, the way everything retreats when she kisses him.

Steph slides a knee up on the couch and turns to face him; her eyes search his. "What's going on? Is it that guy your mom's dating? What's his name?"

They're not dating, he almost says. But to tell her that truth will lead to the admission of who the Logan dude is..

"Gai, I get it. Every time my mom meets a new guy—,"

"Who my mom fucks is her business," he snaps instead, the words like the prick of the pin, causing a dull, faraway sensation of pain but not enough to pull back.

Steph's brow furrows and her mouth falls open, gaping at him. "You didn't used to be like this."

"You said that already."

"I meant it, already." Steph turns her head, but Gai can see a tear slip out before she wipes it away. "I think I want to break up."

"Break up."

"Yeah."

Faintly, Gai recognizes the need to puke, and to bail. Like when you're at the top of the roller coaster and you don't want to be there anymore, but gravity is giving you only one option. "Fine," he says, standing, the bile rising in his throat. "I don't even care."

"Gai—,"

Whatever she was going to say is lost behind the door Gai slams on his way out. He runs blind, down her steps, the walk, the driveway, and smacks into the stone chest of someone taller and broader than him, who smells of stale sweat and sweet smoke.

Hands grab Gai by the arms and steady him. "Whoa, little buddy," Zach says. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Home." Gai brushes off Zach's hands and steps around him. "Fuck off."

This time Zach's hand is steel as it clamps around his wrist, keeping Gai in place. "Not so fast. We have a little business to discuss."

"What?"

"Cam. He told me something really interesting, about you breaking into the school. Said you're pretty handy with locks."

"So?"

"So. Your mouth keeps writing checks your ass can't catch."

"What, is that like a pedo pickup line? It's can't cash, dumbass."

The bones in his wrist grind against each other as Zach applies more pressure, and any other time Gai would scream from the pain. Right now, he welcomes it. "See? Now, that's gonna cost you," Zach says.

4:30pm

Veronica

Footsteps stop outside the motel door and Veronica holds her breath, waiting. Then releases it when the feet move away.

Matthew's stuff disappeared overnight, and his keycard and cell rest on the small table. A note isn't his style, but she doesn't need one to get the message. He's gone.

After hanging up with her dad, she books a one-way flight to San Jose, and a rental car to pick up at the airport. The last thing she wants is to spend precious hours driving the route she already canvassed, looking for Danny Reitman. Better to start where she last left off her search.

Her next task is a difficult one so she dials the number fast. " 're number two!"

"Hey, Giv."

"Hey! My favorite daughter-in-law. What's up?"

Veronica closes her eyes, hating herself. "I wanted to let you know Gai won't be at your place tomorrow. I have a work trip, so my dad's on his way. He's taking Gai to Neptune for a few days."

Giv's quiet a long moment. "Veronica, we leave Friday morning. Lois and I want to see him before we go."

"I'm sorry. It's last minute, and I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Uh huh. What did Lois say?"

"I was hoping," she draws in a long breath, "that you could tell her."

"Chicken."

Veronica laughs and leans back in her chair, pulling her ankle up on her knee. "If it helps, I have to call Gai next. He won't be any happier about it."

"Eh, that does help."

"Giv, there's something else. I think Matthew took off. No note, but he left his cell phone for me so I can't track him." He's quiet so long, Veronica worries he didn't hear her. "Giv?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you okay?"

"Just thinking. Lois and I are heading north when we leave on Friday. Think your pops would be okay with us stopping by, so we can see Gai?"

It doesn't take much to follow his thoughts. One son dead, the other a ghost—their grandson is the last light in a life of crushed dreams. "I think he'd be fine with that."

"Okay, sweetie. Have a good trip."

"You, too."

And as if the day wasn't shitty enough, Veronica swings by the post office and picks up yet another returned letter she sent to Jennifer Weston.

6:00pm

Gai

Scents of tomato sauce, oregano, and garlic meet Gai when he opens the door. Grandpa Keith's in the kitchen, unwrapping foil-covered dishes of manicotti and lasagne, and tosses Gai a white bag of, probably, garlic bread.

"Ey, oh, itsa my grandson. Tonight, we eat Italiano!"

Mom comes in the front door, tossing her bag and keys on the coffee table before greeting Keller and sliding up behind Gai, to lay a kiss on the back of his head. Next, she kisses Grandpa on the cheek. "Mmm, Mama Leone's?"

"Like you have to ask. Who's your—"

"No!" Mom points a finger in Grandpa's face. "Say it and I disown you."

"With those brains? Not a chance. You're a Mars, through and through."

Gai scoffs, thinking how stupid his mom can be sometimes.

"Hmm?" Mom lifts a brow his way, only half paying attention while she dishes out a bowl of food for Keller.

"Nothing."

She fills up a pitcher of ice water. "Gai, set the table, will you? I'm starving."

"I'm not hungry."

"It's family night so set yourself a place anyway.. And hey," her eyes soften, "thanks for being so understanding about my trip."

Any other night, he'd fight back. Fight about being forced to sit at the table when he doesn't want to eat; fight about being dragged to Neptune again, so she can go who knows where to do who knows what.

None of it matters. Gai's so worn down from Steph and Zach he gives in and moves around them, to grab the plates and silverware.

He's quiet through dinner, poking at his oversized piece of lasagne and eating just enough salad that Grandpa stops throwing him worried looks.

Grandpa and Mom talk cases, Grandpa sharing the details while leaving out the names. It's only toward the end, when they've eaten half the lasagne and the adults are lingering over their coffee, that it gets interesting.

"Hey," Grandpa says. "Did I tell you I caught the Neptune High case?"

Mom arches her brow. "What Neptune High case?"

"Vandalism, night of the 13th."

"Isn't that the sheriff department's job?"

"They came up empty, so the school board gave Clemmons money to hire out. Of course, he called the best detective in Neptune."

"And when she wasn't available…," Mom waves a hand in the air, indicating herself.

Grandpa snorts. "Hey, kid. I may have taught you everything you know, but not everything I know."

"Pretty sure the FBI filled in those gaps."

"Such as?"

"Such as," Mom rests a chin on her hand and waggles her eyebrows at Grandpa. "Legally PIs can't to take pictures inside people's homes and hotel rooms, not even through windows or in backyards. It's called `reasonable expectation of privacy', old man."

Grandpa shrugs his shoulders. "They aren't supposed to have their unlicensed teenage daughters taking the pictures, either, so how about we leave that in an ethical gray area."

Mom laughs and gathers their plates. She speaks over her shoulder as she walks to the sink. "Speaking of ethical grays, let me know when you catch the vandals. I'm thinking of posting their bail."

"If you're really feeling munificent," Grandpa says, getting another laugh out of Mom, "how about you cough up the eight thousand dollars in damage they caused."

Gai swirls the water in his glass, keeping his eyes down as Grandpa ticks off on his fingers. "Two trophy cases were shattered, seventy-two lockers spray painted orange, and a projector screen written on with a sharpie."

Mom returns with a white box and three dessert plates. She dishes out a cannoli to each of them. "Gang tagging?"

"No," Grandpa shakes his head. "Kids, I think. The lockers look like someone ran from one end to the other with an open nozzle. The projector was a quote."

"A quote?"

"A song, some artist named Draco Rosa." Grandpa digs his phone out of his jacket and pulls up a photo before holding it out to Mom. Three lines, block letters. Gai could see from where he's sitting, but doesn't bother looking.

Que lejos tu,

Que lejos yo;

Los escombros de mi vida

"Google translates it as, "How far you, How far away I, The rubble of my life."

Mom looks impressed. "Pretty poetic for a vandal. Is it a lead?"

"I don't know, yet." Grandpa puts away his phone. "Could just be what's hip with the kids these days."

"Pretty sure the word 'hip' isn't."

They move onto other topics and Gai excuses himself to pack, feeling the tension leave his body. Even if Grandpa knows the song "Penelope" is based on The Odyssey, he wouldn't connect it to the books the Logan dude gave him. But Mom? She can be stupid, but he wouldn't bet that stupid.