The Book of Fate

88

With the sunroof open and the light rain still drizzling inside, Nico veered off the highway, cutting in front of a white Lexus and following the exit ramp to Okeechobee Boulevard.

“Edmund, what’s the address again?” Nico asked, readjusting the blanket on Edmund’s chest as they approached the red light at the end of the ramp.

Nodding to himself, Nico leaned forward in his seat, craning his neck past the steering wheel to get a better look at the street that ran perpendicular in front of them. On his right, the light traffic coasted past gas stations and a lawn-mower repair shop. On his left, the open blue water of Clear Lake ran in front of the Performing Arts Center, while a green highway sign pointed toward the beautiful high-rises in the distance. In the photo Nico stole, Wes was broken, shattered, corrupted by Boyle’s touch. Nothing beautiful about him.

Tugging the wheel to the right, Nico cut off the same white Lexus, who bitched with his horn for a good five seconds. Not hearing it, Nico pumped the gas and dove into traffic.

“Can you read that one?” Nico asked as he pointed to the address on a nearby car dealership. A droplet of rain whizzed through the sunroof and flicked Edmund on the cheek.

2701.

“What about that one?” Nico asked, pointing to a cash-advance store half a block ahead.

That one’s, lemme see… 2727.

Nico beamed with a beady twinkle in his eyes and hit the gas even harder.

Breathtaking work, Nico. Lord’s definitely on your side with this one.

Thinking the exact same thing, Nico reached for the wooden rosary beads that swayed from the Pontiac’s rearview. “Do you mind, Edmund?”

I’d be honored. You’ve earned them, my son.

My son. Nico sat bolt upright at the words. Surely, Edmund knew what they meant… and once Nico heard them, he could smell the black licorice and hickory whiff of his dad’s old hand-rolled cigars. Back when… back before Mom got sick. When they’d go to church. When things were good. Barely able to hide his grin, Nico nodded over and over as he slipped the rosary beads around his neck and glanced back at the passenger seat.

What? What’s wrong, Nico?

“Nothing… I just…” He nodded again and took another deep breath of black licorice. “I’m happy,” he said. “And in a few more minutes, Mom — like Dad — is finally gonna get her justice.”