It had gotten dark earlier than usual because of the clouds and the rain. We drove back from South Boston along Atlantic Ave in heavy traffic made heavier by the rain. Stephano and company had been parked next to us at the set, and were now behind us as we inched along.
“This is getting annoying,” Z said. “Every time I see him, I think this is it. Is this when the balloon goes up?”
“The readiness is all,” I said.
“Whatever,” Z said. “It’s working on me... which is why I suppose he’s doing it.”
“One reason,” I said.
“There’s another one?”
“It excites him,” I said.
“And it gives him the chance to pick his spot,” Z said.
“It does,” I said. “But he won’t act until the tension gets too big for him to hold off any longer.”
“You mean like sex,” Z said. “Foreplay, foreplay, then zoom.”
“Something like that,” I said.
We inched forward in the dense rush hour. The windshield wipers worked steadily. In the glistening rain, the traffic lights were jewel-like.
“Maybe we should pick our spot,” I said.
“And hope he’s ready?”
“If our spot looks really good to him,” I said, “maybe he’ll become ready.”
Z nodded. I began to push against the traffic, deking and diving as if maybe I were in a panic.
“First thing,” I said. “You want somebody to chase you, you gotta run.”
Stephano stayed with us. In maybe forty minutes we pulled into a construction site, off Mystic Ave in Somerville, where a warehouse was being rehabbed into apartments. Most of the apartments would have a view of Somerville. Some expensive ones would offer the Mystic River.
We parked close, and made a dash through the rain into the building.
Even as our eyes adjusted, it was palpably dark inside. As we felt our way in, we encountered gutted-out lumber and tool stands, loose wires, sawhorses, and bales of insulation. Behind us, the doorless opening where we’d entered was a very slightly paler shade of black. There was a large obstacle in front of us, which felt like a pallet of bricks. We wedged around it and stopped and looked back at the faint opening where we’d entered.
“Now what?” Z said.
“We wait and see what develops,” I said.
“Crees great warriors of the High Plains,” Z said. “Crees mostly don’t fight in warehouses.”
“One might,” I said.
“What if they don’t follow us in?” Z said.
“Then the plan didn’t work,” I said.
“Then what?” Z said.
“We find another way to outwit them,” I said.