The wake-up

19

"How long is he going to stay mad?" asked Cecil.

Missy watched Clark paddling his board out through the breakers, one of his fourteen-foot torpedoes, black with silver rails. "Until he takes something for it."

"This is so unfair." Cecil sat on the very edge of Missy's blanket. "I did the job, didn't I? I didn't get caught, did I? You keep giving me this kind of responsibility, after a while, you won't need Vlad and Arturo."

Missy adjusted her pink bikini top. "Dream on."

Cecil picked up one of the newspapers from the stack he had brought, started reading aloud. " 'Betty B, as she was known to her many friends, was killed by a driver unknown to the police at this time.' " He beamed at her. " 'Driver unknown.' That's me. I'm like a ghost or something. Like fucking Zorro. You should be proud of me."

Missy watched Clark as he stopped paddling, turned, and waited for the next set of waves. "I am proud of you."

"Then how come Clark is so pissed?"

Missy waved to Clark, but he pretended not to see. She thumped her taut abdominal muscles with a flick of her index finger. You could have beaten out a tune on her belly. It might not have been the song you really wanted to hear, though.

The stretch of beach just north of Del Mar was almost deserted this time of the morning. Just Clark, a few younger surfers with their stubby boards, and a couple of retirees trudging over the soft sand with metal detectors.

Clark had been so angry when Cecil told him what he had done that he had grabbed his board with hardly a word. Didn't even want to call any of his longboard buddies. He told Missy he didn't want company, wanted to be alone, but she had ignored him, gotten in the 4x4. Cecil had tried to get in, too, but Clark had peeled out of the driveway. If Cecil hadn't let go of the door handle, he would have lost a hand. Cecil followed them in the other car, while Missy gave him directions on the cell, and Clark kept saying, "Tell that fat fuck to go home." Like Missy was going to listen.

Poor Cecil. It really wasn't fair the way Clark treated her brother. Cecil had knocked on their bedroom door early this morning, so excited that he could hardly talk, and turned on the news. Missy had clapped her hands with delight, seeing the footage of the ambulance rushing off, lights flashing, and that old photo of Betty B they showed-she hadn't looked so good in twenty years. Clark wasn't pleased, though. He said Missy and Cecil had overstepped, which was a word she had never heard him use before.

"You're glad I did it, aren't you?" asked Cecil.

Gulls screamed overhead. "I just wish I had been there to see that bitch go flying."

Cecil grinned. It was the same goofy expression she remembered from when they were kids, Cecil willing to do anything to please her. All she had to do was tell him that some boy on the bus had teased her, and Cecil's fists would start flying. Sometimes he got suspended the very first week of the new school year. If Missy had told him that the Man in the Moon had peeked in her window, Cecil would have tried to steal a rocket ship.

"I felt a little… bad afterward." Cecil dug his fingers into the sand. "Not as bad as I thought, though."

"You'll get the hang of it."

Cecil nodded, fully dressed and ridiculous in a straw cowboy hat because he burned easily, his freckles flaring. He looked like the beefy, ignorant redneck he had always been, but this morning, after what he had done to Betty B… well, Missy was happy to have him sitting cross-legged on the corner of her blanket, and she didn't care who saw him with her. Of course, it helped that they were practically alone on the beach.

"I'm thinking of getting me a gun," said Cecil. "Big one. Maybe a shoulder holster, too."

Missy watched Clark catch a wave. He rode it in, cut across the crest, picking up speed as he raced toward shore, crouched over the board, legs wide, hair flying in the breeze.

Cecil sniffed. "If you ask me, I think Clark is just mad because now you've got me to take care of things. You don't have to ask him to sic Vlad and Arturo on people."

Missy pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around her knees as she watched Clark. "Gosh, he's pretty, isn't he?"

"Personally, I see a lot of disrespect from those two, not just directed at me, either."

Missy glanced over at Cecil. "Give me a for instance." She waited. "That's what I thought." She shaded her face with her hand, watching Clark again.

Cecil chewed on his lower lip. "I see things. People don't pay attention to me, but I see the way Arturo looks when you talk. Like he knows more than you do."

Missy was thinking that over, when Clark waved, riding the longboard toward shore.

Missy waved back, smiling as he took the board all the way in. He splashed into the shallows, then slung the board under one arm, carried it closer to the blanket, and drove it in the sand. Every move he made was like a Beach Boys song. He waved again, beckoning, and Missy realized that he wasn't waving at her. She turned, saw Arturo and Vlad standing on the shoulder of the road, beside their parked cars.

Clark approached the blanket, shaking his long hair out. He still wouldn't look at her.

"This ain't good." Cecil kept sneaking peeks at Arturo and Vlad. "This ain't good at all."

"Hush."

Cecil got heavily to his feet, stuck his hands in his pockets. "You tell them I didn't do nothing you didn't want me to do."

Missy reached into the cooler, pulled out a can of beer for Clark.

"You tell them I'm family," said Cecil.

Clark walked right past the blanket, met Arturo and Vlad halfway. Missy could see them talking, but she couldn't hear what they were saying.

"Dang it," said Cecil as the three of them headed toward the blanket. "Dang it."

Missy tossed Clark a beer, smiled as he caught it one-handed. "I get you boys a brew?"

Vlad shook his head and Arturo didn't even respond.

Clark popped the beer, took a long swallow, and wiped his mouth.

"You sure know how to ride that board," said Cecil. "You could probably turn pro if you wanted to, Clark."

Clark belched.

Arturo laughed and Cecil's face got even redder.

Clark picked up a towel, dried his face. He stood there, gazing off toward the water. "Arturo said one of our Riverside houses got taken down yesterday." He blew salt water out of his nose. "Lost about five pounds of crank."

"I told you Guillermo was going to-"

"We don't know it's Guillermo, Missy." Clark took another swallow of beer. "We just know we lost about five pounds of crank, and two cookers got wasted."

"Well, who else could it have been? Nobody else would have the balls-"

"Arturo and Vlad are going to find out who did it," said Clark, water droplets glistening on his shoulders.

"I guess maybe now Cecil's going to get some credit for what he did last night," said Cecil. "Maybe I can come along with Arturo and Vlad-"

Clark bounced the beer can off Cecil's head.

Missy had no idea what new dope Clark was on, but it had sure turned him into major alpha dog. It was kind of nice, as long as he didn't get carried away with himself. "Clark, honey," she said, blotting his broad back with the towel, "you got to admit this would be a good time to put down Meachum, maybe his wife, too, make an example of them."

"I'm not admitting anything until Arturo and Vlad tell me who wasted my cookers." Clark looked at Missy, and it was like looking into the eye of a storm. "Motherfucker who did it took one of my new recipes."