Out of Sight

SEVEN

Karen told Foley, climbing the bank in the dark, it would be a lot easier if he'd quit hanging onto her. He let go of her arm and dropped back a couple of steps saying he was only trying to help, so she wouldn't slip in the weeds and fall. Karen said, "You mean and ruin my good suit?" The back and the sleeves stained with his muck, the skirt snagging now in the brush. He said he didn't want her to hurt herself.

Karen hoped she'd be able to tell about it later. The conversation in a trunk full of handcuffs and tactical gear with a bank robber escaped convict who wondered if it would be different if they'd met in a bar.

Like a first date, getting to know one another. Her dad would love it.

"And then what happened?" That was a good question.

Foley stayed behind her now looking at her slim figure, her legs at eye level in the short skirt that hiked up on her, tight against her rear end as she climbed the grade. Buddy was up ahead. Foley said, "Have your clothes cleaned and send me the bill," wanting to say something to her, keep it light, but he felt awkward with her now, tense.

She said, "I'll send it to you at Glades."

Still not acting scared.

They reached the top of the grade to move through the scrub and now he could see the car, amber lights blinking. He didn't see Glenn until he heard him.

"Jesus, what'd you crawl through, a sewer?"

Standing at the edge of the trees with Buddy saying to him then,

"That's a white car?"

"What's the difference? It's the only one here."

Glenn had on sunglasses and a limp, ratty-looking raincoat that hung long on him, open, over a T-shirt and jeans cut off at the knees.

Foley said, "Take your sunglasses off," his tone mild, Karen Sisco standing only a few feet away.

"I see better with them on," Glenn said.

"I'd take 'em off," Foley said, "before they get stepped on."

He was aware of Karen turning to look at him, but kept his eyes on Glenn, who gave a shrug, took the glasses off and stuck them in his jeans.

"Wait in the car," Foley said.

Glenn didn't move. He said, "You're out in civilization now, man, ease up."

"I'd like you to go wait in the car," Foley said.

"How's that?

Take her with you and put her in back."

Glenn said, "In the trunk?"

"The backseat."

"What do you need her for?"

Foley stared at him, waiting.

Glenn said, "Busting out of stir can fuck up your nerves, can't it? I know, I've been there. But I'm hanging my ass out for you, man. I don't need any get-in-the-car shit. I'm here, but I don't fucking have to be here."

Buddy said, "Be cool, Studs. Are you cool? Go on, quit talking so much."

"Studs," Glenn said.

"Now we're old pals again, back in the yard at Lompoc. How come that seems like such a long time ago?" He motioned to Karen saying, "Come on, have to do what I'm told."

She walked past Foley without looking at him and he said, "Wait a minute," to Glenn.

"Let me have your raincoat." He said, "Somebody forgot to bring me clean clothes," looking at Buddy with a straight face.

He didn't get it. He said, "I brought 'em, they're back at Glades in the Cadillac. You wanted to take her car…"

And Karen said, "You can blame me if you want. I don't mind."

What Foley wanted was to tell them he was kidding, for Christ sake, he wasn't blaming anyone, he was trying to lighten up, get rid of this awkward feeling he had. And since he couldn't do that he kept his mouth shut and watched Karen walk over to Glenn as he was slipping the raincoat off.

Glenn saying, "Here you are, sir," folding the raincoat once and then rolling it up. He threw the coat to land in the weeds at Foley's feet.

Glenn got his sunglasses out of his jeans then, put them on and took Karen by the arm toward the car.

Foley watching them.

Close to him Buddy said, "What's wrong with you?"

Foley didn't answer, watching Glenn and Karen standing by the car now, Glenn talking to her, Karen as tall as he was, facing him, listening, Glenn looking back this way before opening the door. Now Karen looked over, ducked her head and got in the backseat.

She watched Glenn walk around the front of the car to the other side, open the door and slide in behind the wheel, the inside light on, Karen getting a look at him before he pulled the door closed. Glenn half turned now, laying his arm along the top of the seats. He hunched a little to look out the side window, running his hand through his hair.

"Like I said, I walked away from a prison myself one time, out in California, so I know what it can do to your nerves, being a wanted fugitive. But if he thinks he can talk to me like that… Shit, I've been here over a half hour watching headlights coming this way, hoping to Christ they don't stop and it's the Florida Highway Patrol, if you think that's fun. I even smoked a doob lurking there in the fucking bushes. I wouldn't mind another one, either, right now. How about you?" He turned his head enough to look at her, at the same time running his fingers through his hair.

"You must be scared shitless, get in a situation like this. You heard me ask him what he's gonna do with you? He wouldn't say. You know why? He doesn't know himself. In stir, he's as cool as they come; but you get a guy like that outside, now he's a fugitive, he's too fucking wired to think straight. Is he gonna let you go or shoot you? It's too bad, but I guess you were in the wrong fucking place at the wrong time. I imagine you just got off a work…" He turned to stare out the window again.

Karen leaned forward to have a look. She saw them against the dark foliage, one holding her shotgun, the other, Foley-it looked like he was unbuttoning his shirt, working at it, his head lowered. They seemed to be talking.

"What I mean is you can be the man inside," Glenn said, still watching them, Karen sitting back now, "but out in the world, if you don't know where you're going, man, you're fucked. I came out, took a trip up north and I had something laid out. I mean something big. The land, one score, you retire. I'd go do it right now, except it's so fucking cold up there in January." He paused for a moment and said, "You know what he's doing? Taking off that filthy uniform. He's gonna put my raincoat on and ruin it. I bought it at a flea market out in West Broward, ten bucks. It's old but, shit, it's a genuine mackintosh. Now I'll have to have it cleaned. It didn't do me much good in Detroit, I froze my ass off and that was in November. California, all the time I was out there I never even owned a raincoat. Come to sunny Florida-I wasn't here for Andrew, but everybody was talking about it so much, and then the end of last summer it started raining like hell, the beginning of hurricane season, so I bought a raincoat. That flea market, any time you go out there it's full of Haitians buying all kinds of shit, radios that don't work, clothes, even canned goods. I'm not kidding."

Karen said, "Glenn?"

His head turned and she was looking at his designer shades, small oval lenses in a gold wire frame.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

She watched him hesitate, uncertain.

He said, "It couldn't have been out at Glades, if that's what you're thinking. I was never out there."

Karen shook her head.

He raised his hand to stroke his hair away from his face.

"But you're sure we've met, huh?"

"A couple of times."

"Is that right? Where?"

"Last fall," Karen said, "I drove you from the Palm Beach county jail to the federal courthouse, twice. You're Glenn Michaels. I never forget anyone I've cuffed and shackled."

He didn't move or say a word, staring at her now like he'd been turned to stone.

Karen said, "Let's think for a minute, Glenn, see if we can work this out. Is there a gun in the car?"

Foley had his head down, chin on his chest, fingers working at a button caked with muck. Buddy, watching him, said, "You're pulling at it. If you want to do that-here." He laid the shotgun in the grass, came up to take the guard shirt in his two hands and ripped it open, popping buttons and tearing the shirt. He wiped his hands on his khaki pants as Foley threw the shirt in the bushes, picked up the raincoat and put it on.

"Why you brought Glenn," Foley said, "I'll never know."

"Since I got so many friends here," Buddy said.

"He came through and you treat him like shit."

"He wants something. It's the only reason he's here. He gets picked up doing one of his cars, he'll make a deal and give us up."

"He talks too much, that's all."

"That's what I'm saying."

"Get rid of the cap."

"I don't know why, but every time he opens his mouth I want to punch him out."

"He ain't the problem, Jack."

"Look. I couldn't leave her in the trunk. And that's all I can tell you."

"You don't want to leave her here, either."

"She's in the car. You want to go or stand here talking about it?"

"I have a choice? Okay, first take your head out of your ass, then tell me why you want to bring her."

Buddy waited.

"You gonna tell me?"

"It's hard to explain," Foley said.

She touched his arm, leaning in close like she was creeping up on him and Glenn turned away, all the way around to look straight ahead, get out of her face, Jesus, and try to think. He wanted to know what Foley and Buddy were doing, if they were coming, but didn't want to look to find out. He had planned to tell them, when they got in the car, he'd had the Audi up to one thirty-seven in less than half a mile; German iron, it cruised, man… She said his name.

She said, "Glenn, don't think, okay?" Knowing that's what he was trying to do. She said, "Just listen. You're in a tough spot, but I think I can help you."

He said, "Hey, wait a minute…" but didn't know what to say after that. She asked him again if there was a gun in the car. The way she put it this time, "Do we have a gun in the car?" We.

Like they were together in this. He remembered her voice now from before, riding in the GMC van. She had a nice voice and never raised it, not even when she was in some moron's face who was giving her a hard time. He remembered you could bullshit with her about different things, this girl no older than he was. She said his name again.

She said, "Glenn, Foley's not going to make it. You said yourself he's too fucking wired to think straight. And if he goes down… Glenn, you go with him." She touched his shoulder and he jumped. She said,

"If I had hair like yours, all that body, I'd never have to put it up."

She said, "I can understand if you and Foley are close…"

"We're not. I'm helping him, yeah…"

She stopped him.

"Wait. Have you helped him, Glenn? At this point, technically, I doubt you could be charged with aiding a fugitive. So you still have a choice." She said, "You can help him and risk going down again, get cuffed and shackled, hope to God you pull a reasonable judge, not some hard-on. Or, if you want to play it another way…"

She paused and Glenn said, "How?"

"All the time we're in the trunk," Foley said, "we're talking, we're getting along, you might say."

Buddy said, "Jesus Christ," turning his head, as if he didn't want to hear it.

"Listen to me, all right? I kept wondering if she and I had met, you know, under normal circumstances like at a cocktail lounge…" He stopped, running out of words, Buddy staring at him again.

"You want to take her up to my place," Buddy said, "and get cleaned up?

You come out of the bathroom with your aftershave on and she goes, "Oh, I had you all wrong'?"

"I want to talk to her again, that's all."

Buddy kept staring at him.

"You're too late, Jack. You're what you are, clean or dirty.

The best either of us can do is look at nice pretty girls and think, well, if we had done it different…"

Foley began to say-he wasn't sure what, something; repeat himself, not wanting to give up? He heard Glenn start the car and looked over to see the headlights pop on.

"He wants to go," Buddy said, "get out of here, and I don't blame him."

They walked toward the car.

Then stopped and watched as it took off, tires squealing as the rubber hit pavement. They watched the taillights until they were out of sight down the turnpike, neither of them saying a word.