The Zero Game

15

Outside Stan’s restaurant, Lowell Nash slowly scanned the sidewalks up and down Vermont Avenue. He stared at the shadows in the doorways of every storefront. He even studied the homeless man sleeping on the bus-stop bench across the street. But as he turned the corner onto L Street, he couldn’t spot a twitch of movement. Even the air hung flat in the night. Picking up speed, he rushed toward his car, which was parked halfway up the block.

Again Lowell checked the sidewalks, the doorways, and the bus-stop benches. If his recent notoriety taught him anything, it was never to take chances. Approaching the silver Audi, he scrambled for his car key, pressed a button, and heard the doors unlock. He gave one last glance to his surroundings, then slipped inside and slammed the door shut.

“Where the hell is he?” Janos asked from the passenger seat.

Lowell yelled out loud, jumping so fast, he banged his funny bone against the car door.

“Where’s Harris?” Janos demanded.

“I was…” He grabbed his funny bone, holding it in pain. “Aaah… I was wondering the same about you.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’ve been waiting for almost an hour. He finally got up and left.”

“He was already here?”

“And gone,” Lowell replied. “Where were you?”

Janos’s forehead wrinkled in anger. “You said ten o’clock,” he insisted.

“I said nine.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I swear, I said nine.”

“I heard you say-” Janos cut himself off. He studied Lowell carefully. The sting from the funny bone was long past, but Lowell was still crouched over, cradling his elbow and refusing to make eye contact. If Janos could see Lowell’s expression, he’d also see the panic on Lowell’s face. Lowell may be weak, but he wasn’t an asshole. Harris was still a friend.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Janos warned.

Lowell quickly looked up, his eyes wide with fear. “Never… I’d never do that…”

Janos narrowed his glance, studying him carefully.

“I swear to you,” Lowell added.

Janos continued to stare. A second passed. Then two.

Janos’s arm sprang out like a wildcat, palming Lowell by the face and slamming his head back into the driver’s-side window. Refusing to let go, Janos pulled back and smashed him against the glass again. Lowell grabbed Janos’s wrist, fighting to break his grip. Janos didn’t stop. With a final shove, he put all his weight behind it. The window finally cracked from the impact, leaving a jagged vein zigzagging across the glass.

Slumped down in his seat, Lowell held his head from the pain. He felt a trickle of blood skating down the back of his neck. “A-Are you nuts?”

Without saying a word, Janos opened the door and stepped into the warm night air.

It took Lowell twenty minutes to get his bearings. When he got home, he told his wife some kid on Sixteenth Street threw a rock at the car.