the Big Time (2010) (16 page)

TROY SLIPPED HIS FINGERS
into the pocket.

He looked at his father. Drew gave him an odd half smile and tilted his head. Troy wondered if his father would keep him alive long enough for the FBI to get there in time,
if
they were listening.

His fingers closed around the cool metal disk and, hesitantly, he removed it from his pocket.

“Open your hand,” Luther grumbled.

Troy's fingers slowly spread. The quarter gleamed up at them.

Luther began to laugh.

It started in low, then grew to a mad cackle.

“Twenty-five cents!” Luther hooted. “Look at your boy, Drew. Your little man is some kind of player, right?
Five million in the pipeline, and he's got a
quarter
in his pocket.”

Troy's father joined in the laughter, as did G Money; soon Troy realized it was real laughter, all of it. He broke out in a relieved laugh of his own, looking from one face to another. When it died down, Luther wiped a tear from the corner of one dark and red-rimmed eye and sniffed. Then from his own pocket he removed a fat wad of hundred-dollar bills.

“This is how you carry your money, little man, in a roll,” Luther said, “if you're lucky enough to have this much. But you are lucky, right? Lucky for your dad, that's for sure. Lucky like a rabbit's foot.”

Troy's father hesitated, then said, “I was lucky to find him.”

Luther snorted, stuffed the roll of cash back into his pocket, and looked at G Money, who shrugged as though afraid to take a side.

“That and more,” Luther said to Troy's dad with a scowl before he glanced at his watch. “All right. I got this meeting in two minutes, so you take this little family reunion someplace else.”

Troy studied G Money, thinking that since it was his house, he'd have something to say about who would go where. Troy was wrong. G Money listened to the big thug like a schoolboy hoping to get out of the principal's office. The rapper flicked his chin, signaling Troy and
his dad to follow him. Even though he hadn't completed his mission, Troy could only feel relief at the thought of being free from the horrible gaze of Luther Tolsky.

They hadn't taken two steps before a guard barged in from the entrance and said, “Hey, G Money. We got another kid now.”

“What?” G Money said, rumpling his face.

That's when the guard reached behind him, grabbed hold of a collar, and shoved Tate into the big room.

LUTHER'S PINK GRIN APPEARED
in the midst of his beard, G Money flashed his own gold grille, and Troy's dad joined in.

“Little man is some kind of Romeo,” Luther said. “Come on in here, Juliet.”

Tate folded her arms across her chest and scowled at them all.

“Tate,” Troy said in disbelief, “what are you doing?”

“Making sure you're all right,” she said, glaring at him like the whole thing was his fault.

“I'm fine,” Troy said.

“Right,” she said, drawing out the word to show her disbelief.

“You want me to bounce her on out of here, G?” the guard asked.

“You remember Tate, G Money?” Troy quickly said. “My friend from the Falcons game. Down on the field?”

“You can't take the little man's shorty,” Luther said, laughing.

With the men's attention on Tate, Troy realized in a flash that he had a chance to do what he'd come for. The thought of his father going to jail forced his hand into his pocket. He clutched his mom's cell phone with the quarter pressed tight to its side. When he removed the items, he kept his eyes on the men and let the quarter slip from his hand so that it fell to the bearskin rug with the faintest thump.

“Oh, Troy,” Tate said, obviously embarrassed by the men's attention and wanting to get out from under it any way she could.

“I think maybe you just dropped a quarter or something.”

TATE POINTED AT THE
floor, and the men's eyes all followed its direction, looking at Troy's feet. Troy made a show of looking down himself and bent to scoop the money out of the rug, holding it up in his free hand.

“Wow,” he said, “yeah. Got it. Thanks, Tate.”

Troy's face warmed as he tucked the quarter back into his pocket.

“Okay, scat,” Luther said, jabbing his thumb toward the door as he stepped to a side table and poured himself what looked like a whiskey to Troy.

“Come on,” Troy's dad said, motioning to them. “Let's go sit by the pool and we can talk.”

“Yeah,” Luther said, raising his drink, “and I'll call you when I need you, Drew. That Cayman Islands thing, right?”

“Right,” Troy's dad said. “Sure.”

As they crossed the big room for the doors, Troy heard the sound of men arriving at the front door, laughter, greetings, and the slap of handshakes.

When they'd passed through the sliding doors and were alongside the pool, Troy asked, “What's that Cayman Islands thing all about?”

His father flinched but then quickly gave Troy a smile and a wink and said, “Just business.”

“With that guy?” Troy asked.

“He's G Money's friend,” Troy's dad said, lowering his voice. “If G Money wants to do something with him, I've got to stay on top of the deal. I'm the lawyer.”

“What kind of a deal is it?” Troy asked, hoping against hope that his father would come up with something to prove the FBI agents wrong.

“Nothing you'd understand, Troy,” his dad said. “Stop asking questions, will you? Why'd you come over here anyway? Did you climb over the wall?”

“Yeah,” Troy said. “Tired of fighting with my mom, I guess.”

“I get it,” his dad said, showing them to seats around the table on the terrace where the men had played cards. “Let me get you two something to drink. Coke? Grape soda? Mountain Dew?”

“Orange soda if you have it,” Tate said.

“Coke,” said Troy.

The instant his dad disappeared down the shrub-
lined path heading for G Money's bar by the end of the pool, Troy said, “Tate, are you kidding? What the heck are you even
doing
here? Do you know what you just did with that quarter?”

Tate gave him a worried look and shrugged. “Saved you twenty-five cents?”

“It's the whole reason I'm
here
,” Troy said in an urgent whisper that he also used to quickly tell her the story about the FBI.

By the time he finished, Tate's forehead was wrinkled with concern.

“These people are, like, criminals?” Tate asked.

“I guess they are.”

“But if you help, then they'll help your dad?”

“Yes.”

“We have to get that thing back in there,” she said as if speaking to herself.

“How?” Troy said, huffing. “I can't just walk back in there. That guy's scary. He's dangerous; that's what the FBI said. You see the way he looks at me?”

“No, you can't,” Tate said, distracted by her thoughts until she looked up at him. “But
I
can.”

“
You
can?” Troy asked. “How?”

TATE'S EYES FLASHED IN
the direction of the bar. She leaned forward and said, “Your dad's coming. Give it to me, quick.”

“How, Tate?”

She growled at him and said, “When a girl's gotta go, a girl's gotta go; now
give
me that.”

Troy reached in his pocket, removed the quarter, and held it out across the table. He hesitated, looking into Tate's dark brown eyes. He dropped the coin into her hand. She snapped her hand shut and jumped up, brushing past Troy's dad and his drinks.

“Where you going, Tate?” Troy's dad asked.

“The facilities,” Tate said.

Troy's dad looked away and nodded, and Troy thought that she just might be right. He knew that whenever a
girl he'd been around mentioned anything having to do with the bathroom, the mind of every guy within ear-shot would go blank. It was like a stun gun, rendering them useless.

From his spot, Troy could see Tate working her way through the maze of shrubbery, past the pool. She was headed right for the sliding doors of the great room, even though the small cluster of men around the zebra couch was clear to see.

“She's a fireball,” Troy's dad said, sitting beside him and plunking down the sodas on the big round table.

His dad's appreciation of Tate only made Troy sad.

“Dad?” Troy said.

“Yeah? Oh, wait,” his father said, raising his soda can. “Here's to five million dollars. Right?”

Troy clinked his can against his father's and took a swig.

“What'd you want to tell me?” his father asked.

“If I could help you,” Troy said, “I would, you know.”

His father's face twisted up for an instant as if he might cry, but then the pained look was gone. And when his father grinned hard at him and winked, Troy wasn't sure it had ever happened. Maybe he'd imagined it.

“I know you would,” his father said, clapping his shoulder. “I'm your dad. I don't doubt it. You're a good kid, Troy.”

“And I'd never do anything to hurt you, Dad,” Troy
said, looking away because he didn't trust his own emotions to stay in check the way his father's had.

“Is there something you've got to tell me, Troy?” his father asked. “You're not going to ask me to back out of the deal? It's too late for that, Troy.”

Troy sighed and said, “No, it's a great deal.”

“It sure is. So, we're good?” his father said, raising his can again as if they were toasting all over.

“Good,” Troy said, and he dared a peek at the big window where he could clearly see Tate standing inside the zoo room with her back to him. The group of suspicious-looking men stared at her, astonished. Tate's arms flew about with her hands flitting through the air to assist in the telling of what Troy knew must be some crazy story.

Troy cleared his throat, looked into his father's eyes, and said, “I just wanted to see you. It's still pretty cool for me to just see you. I thought about you for a long time.”

His father's grin went slack, and in a sad way he said, “And I've thought about you, Troy.”

Troy's insides froze.

“But,” he said, “I…thought you didn't know about me?”

THE SMILE FLASHED BACK
onto his father's face instantly.

“The
idea
of you,” his father said, “of having a son. I told you. I always wanted that. That's all I meant, not that I knew
you
really existed. I thought a lot about having a
son
. Just the idea.”

“Oh,” Troy said.

Tate appeared, marching up onto the terrace and crossing her arms over her chest.

“How you two doing?” she asked, grabbing her soda from the table, cracking open the can with a hiss, and swigging some down. As she drank, she flashed a thumbs-up behind her back, a signal only Troy could see, that told him she'd done her job.

“Great,” Troy's dad said, answering Tate's question. “One of those father-and-son talks.”

“You want me to let you guys talk?” Tate asked. “I can.”

“No, that's okay, Tate,” Troy said. “We've got to get back anyway.”

“You don't want to finish your sodas?” his dad asked.

“We can take them,” Troy said, standing. “I know you've got things going on.”

As if on cue, the glass doors slid open and someone Troy had never seen before, with tan skin and a pencil-thin mustache, stepped out onto the deck and shouted, “Edinger! We need you! The big man does!”

He disappeared back inside, and one of the guards from the front of the house came out, heading their way. Troy's dad gave him a sheepish look.

“Well,” his dad said, “you're right about the business part of it. Okay, well, you two get back home. And, Troy, if I don't see you tomorrow, it's because your mom is being a crank and I might have to shoot back to Chicago quick to take care of some things, but don't worry. Everything will smooth out soon, and we'll be hanging out again. I'm not only your dad; I'm your lawyer. You can't go wrong.”

Troy thought it sounded like his dad was trying to sell him a car, but he let Drew hug him before they stepped apart. The guard muttered to them that Luther had asked him to escort the kids to the front gate. Troy and Tate said good-bye to Troy's dad and followed the
guard down a path that took them around the house instead of through it. When they reached the driveway, Troy looked back at the huge white mansion to see that two white stretch limos now waited in the glow of the lights right in front of the grand front steps leading to the door.

When the gates hummed open, Troy took Tate's arm and hurried her through. He said thanks to the guard, using all his determination not to break out into a full sprint and run away as fast as his legs would take him.

“
I did it
,” Tate said before they had even rounded the corner.

“Shhhh!”
Troy said, clutching her arm as the gates swung slowly closed.

“You're hurting me,” she said under her breath.

“Don't run,” he said, glancing back as they rounded the corner beneath the glow of a street lamp. “Nothing suspicious.”

“When can we?” Tate said as they reached the next stop sign and a bit of darkness, where they could take another turn.

Just then Troy glanced back again and saw a man beneath the streetlight, wearing a dark suit and holding a radio in one hand, sprinting their way.

“Now!” Troy said, and they took off.