The Wally Lamb Fiction Collection: The Hour I First Believed, I Know This Much is True, We Are Water, and Wishin' and Hopin' (134 page)

What was he asking—if Ralph and me had ever gotten queer together? Had
Leo
told him something like that? If he had, I’d beat the shit out of him. But he wouldn’t say that. Would he? “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then no. No way.
Never!
”

“It’s interesting, though. How you and Leon like to go over to their house, hang out with these guys on the weekend. Unusual for two normal, red-blooded American guys to want to do that. I’m not making any accusations, Dom. I’m just making an observation.”

“We don’t ‘hang out’ there. I was just looking at a
car.
Dell’s wife’s
car.
” I turned to Overcash. “The guy’s got a
wife.
” I addressed Avery
next. “They’re selling her car because she’s got multiple sclerosis. . . . Look, I want a lawyer. Okay?”

“What do you want a lawyer for?” Overcash asked. “Captain already told you we’re just doing some research. Asking a few questions, seeing what we can eliminate.”

“Yeah, well, you can give me a lie detector test if you think—”

“Hey, you want a lawyer, Dom?” Balchunas said. “We’ll be glad to let you call a lawyer. But like I said, all we’re trying to do is streamline this thing. Get you and your buddy out of here nice and easy. All we gotta do is iron out a few discrepancies, that’s all. A few inconsistencies between what you’re telling us and what Leon told us. Like this business about Ralph’s contact, for instance. This Roland dude from New York.”

Fuck ’em—Ralph and Leo both. I wasn’t going to let any stupid cop sit there and call
me
a fag—I didn’t care what kind of bullshit story Leo had given them. “He just . . . Ralph grows his own, okay? That’s what he told us, anyway. He said he has a few plants out in a field someplace. Out in the woods. . . . I swear to God. That’s all I know.”

“Must be damn good plants, eh?” Balchunas said. “Must have a pretty high yield. Because Leo says he’s seen
pounds
of the stuff. Now you’re saying Ralph gets
pounds
of the stuff from ‘a few plants’? I mean, even if ‘a few’ is nine or ten, that’s still quite a yield. Wouldn’t you say, Dom? This Ralph must have one hell of a green thumb.”

“I never saw pounds of it. Maybe Leo did, but all I saw was a couple of joints.”

“This Ralph’s a Negro fella. Right?”

“What?”

“He’s black? Of the Negroid persuasion?”

“I guess.”

“You
guess
? Jesus, you can’t even give me a straight answer about
that
?”

“He’s . . . I think he’s part Indian, too.”

“Yeah? American Indian or India Indian?”

“American Indian. Wequonnoc, I think.”

“That right? Half-black, half-Indian, huh?” Balchunas turned to Officer Overcash. “Poor guy. Probably doesn’t know whether to go out and scalp his next meal or let welfare pay for it.” He turned back to me. “You know what Leon says, Dom? He says Ralph reads a lot of radical literature. Black Panther stuff. Overthrow-the-government kind of stuff. You know anything about that?”

I shook my head. Was this Leo’s whole big plan to get us off the hook? Trash Ralph? Slander the guy? Slander me, too, maybe, while he was at it?

“You ever seen Ralph with guns? Firearms of any kind?”

“No.”

“No, huh? You sure?”

“He read . . . he’s read this one book called
Soul on Ice.
That’s all I ever heard him say anything about black power or power to the people or whatever.”

“
Soul on Ice,
eh? I heard about that book. Right on, brother! Who wrote that one, anyway, Dom? I forget.”

“Eldridge Cleaver.”

“Eldridge Cleaver. Any good—that book? Would
you
recommend it?”

I told him I’d never read it.

“No? How about Roland? The guy from New York? He’s a colored boy, too, right? Black Panther, maybe?”

“I already told you. I don’t know anything about any Roland.”

“You got a brother works on this work crew, too. Right?”

What was he dragging Thomas into it for? What had Leo said about Thomas? “My brother doesn’t have anything to do with any of this,” I said.

“No? Leo says your faggoty foreman takes a little bit of a special interest in him. You and your brother are twins, right?”

I nodded. Felt my heartbeat revving up. “He just likes to tease Thomas, that’s all. Pick on him. He’s a bully. . . . He knows he can get a rise out of him.”

“Get a rise out of him, huh? Interesting way to put it. You guys
identical
twins?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“Your brother expose himself at work last Friday, Dom? The queers on that crew get him to play show-and-tell for them, did they?”

I was going to
nail
Leo when we got out of there. What right did he have to feed Thomas’s humiliation to the cops? And why? For what purpose?

“Look, you’re jumping to the wrong conclusions. My brother just—”

“What’d they do—trade him a couple of joints for a look-see?”

“It was nothing like that!” I felt close to tears. I knew they were busting my balls—toying with me the way a cat bats around a mouse before he bites his fucking head off. But why my brother? Why did Leo have to drag Thomas into it? “Dell’s been harassing my brother all summer,” I said. “Bullying him. Calling him names. And he just . . . my brother’s a little high-strung and he just . . . he freaked. They goaded him into it.”

“Who goaded him into it? Ralph?”

“
Dell.
Really. You’ve got the wrong idea. He was just bullying him. Just jerking him around.”

“Just jerking him around,” Balchunas said.

“God, you’re twisting everything I say. My brother’s—”

“Look at his ears, Clayton,” Balchunas said. “You’re blushing, Dom. Why you covering for Ralph?”

“I’m
not
covering for him.”

“He’s just a generous guy who likes to bring his dope to work and share it, right?”

“I don’t know what kind of a guy he is. We just work together. He’s very private.”

“Uh-huh. You ever let him get private with you? In exchange for some hash?”

“
No!
” Leo was going to pay for this, big time.

“Take it easy, Dom. This is off the record now. This is just research.”

“I don’t care
what
it is. I would never . . . me
or
my brother!”

“Relax, Dom. Relax. We know you’re okay. We know all about
that girlfriend of yours.” He cupped his hands in front of his chest, fondled a pair of imaginary breasts.

“Leave my girlfriend out of this,” I said. “And my brother, too. My brother never even took one stupid toke all summer long.” I was fighting back tears.

“Okay, take it easy,” Avery said. “Suppose we change the subject.”

Balchunas’s fist whacked down hard on the table. “No, let’s not
change
the subject,” he said. “Let’s just
end
the subject and let this little twerp get his lawyer like he goddamn wants to. Because you know what?” He turned to Overcash. “You know what, Clayton? I’m starting to get a little tired of wasting our time while this little shit here keeps talking around in circles. I’m starting to think maybe this arrogant little son of a bitch might
need
to call a lawyer after all. Or call his mommy and daddy, or his buddies over on Bickel Road, or someone. Because Leon’s telling us one thing and this guy’s telling us another, and all we’re trying to do is get the two of them out of here tonight.”

“I’m
telling
the truth,” I said. Turned to Avery. “I
am.
”

“You know what?” Balchunas said. “Send the other one home. I got no beef with him; he cooperated with us. That’s what this little shit doesn’t seem to understand.”

“I
am
cooperating!” I said. “What am I supposed to do—lie about it? If I didn’t hear him say anything about some Roland guy, am I supposed to just . . . ? You accuse me and my brother of all this perverted stuff we didn’t even do, and I’m supposed to just—”

“Okay, okay. Let’s lower the volume, all right?” Officer Avery suggested. “No sense getting all excited. How about if we put it a different way? You listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“Is it
possible
Ralph might have talked to you guys about this Roland and maybe you just don’t
remember
as much detail about it as Leo does? Maybe you were high at the time or thinking about your girlfriend or something? Or maybe Leo just has a better memory than you do? But maybe you remember
something
—even something vague—about Roland? Is that possible?”

“I don’t . . . I’m all mixed up. . . . It’s
possible,
I guess. Anything’s
possible.
”

“But you’re still saying Ralph never sold you any marijuana, right?” Overcash said. “Just passed the stuff, let you take some hits off it?”

“Yes.”

“How about that stuff you two had tonight, then? Out at the bridge? Ralph wasn’t passing the joint tonight. He wasn’t even there.”

“I don’t . . . I guess he just gave Leo a couple of joints.”

“
Gave
them or
sold
them?”

“Gave them. As far as I know. Leo never said anything about buying them.”

“Was Ralph
planning
to sell you some?” Avery asked. “You know—in quantity?
Talking
to you guys about the possibility? Was this stuff a sample?”

It had been Leo’s big idea that we should sell dope at school, not Ralph’s. But what was I supposed to do—whack him the way he’d probably whacked me? Or had he? I didn’t know anything anymore. I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”

“Not that you know of, not that you know of,” Balchunas mimicked. “That stuff you were smoking tonight: potent stuff, right? Little more kick to it than the stuff you guys were smoking at work. Right?”

“Look, what about my rights?” I said. “I have rights, don’t I?”

He shot out of his seat. Started jabbing his finger at me. “You know who’s always concerned about their rights, wiseguy? When they get backed into a corner? I’ll
tell
you who. The guys who are lying between their teeth, that’s who. The guys who are trying to cover something up.”

“I’m
not
trying to cover anything up. I just—” He waved his hands at me in disgust. Sat back down.

“Look, Dominick,” Officer Avery said. “We’d advise you of your rights if we were planning to arrest you. Which we’re trying like hell
not
to do, if we can help it. Now Leon says that stuff you guys were smoking tonight was a sample. Right? That Ralph wanted you to try it and if you liked it, you guys and he might make a little arrangement? Sell for him at school?”

“I’m . . . he never said anything like that to me.”

“You never heard Ralph say he wanted you guys to buy a couple of pounds from him and then turn around and—”

“
I
didn’t hear him say that. No.”

“But maybe he said it to your buddy Leon?” Balchunas asked. “Maybe he offered Leon that deal to the both of you? Leon ever mention any arrangement like that to you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe.”

“That’s an imprecise word, Dom. ‘Maybe.’ In your estimation, would you classify ‘maybe’ as ‘yes’ or ‘no’?”

“How much longer do I have to stay here?”

“Well, that’s up to you, Dom. If ‘maybe’ is ‘yes,’ Radical Ralph
was
trying to put together a deal with you guys to sell his dope up there at the university, then you could probably get up and walk out of here in about three to five minutes. And if ‘maybe’ is ‘no,’ he
wasn’t,
then this might take a while longer. You see what I’m saying? Gets a little more complicated if ‘maybe’ means ‘no.’ Because then we’ve got this discrepancy between what you say and what your buddy Leon says. If ‘maybe’ is ‘no,’ then I guess we ought to have you call yourself a lawyer after all, or call your father, or call someone. Because, hey, let’s face it—between what we found out in that car and what’s going to show up in your urine sample, we got the goods on you, pal. And frankly, my friend, I’ve cooperated with you about as much as I’m willing to cooperate. We got other fish to
fry out there in that waiting room. So you tell us, Dom, and you better be quick about it, too. What’s ‘maybe’? Is ‘maybe’ yes, you were aware that Ralph offered you guys a deal to sell for him? Or is ‘maybe’ no, he didn’t?”

I just wanted to get out of there. Not get arrested. Not cry in front of them.

“Yes.”

It was after midnight by the time they let us go. The benches out front where we’d been waiting were almost empty. Crotch Lady
was still there, snoring open-mouthed. Avery took us around in back to where Leo’s car had been towed. Unlocked the gate. Waved us off.

At first, neither of us spoke. We just rode through Three Rivers with the windows down, the radio off. Leo kept checking the rearview mirror. It was one of the few times I’d ever seen him speechless—
not
running his mouth.

“What the fuck did you tell them, anyway?” I finally said.

He started singing to himself, pounding out a tune on the steering wheel. “Who? The cops? I don’t know. I told them a bunch of shit.”

“Like what?”

“Why? What’d they ask you about?”

Part of me didn’t even want to get into it. Didn’t want to find out just how much of a weasel he could be—how low he’d go to get himself off the hook. Why had he dragged my stupid brother into it? Or told them Ralph was a queer? A radical with weapons?

“Birdsey, look back,” he said. “Is that anyone?”

I turned around. “What?”

He was watching the rearview mirror as much as he was the road in front of him. “You think they’re following us? The cops?” In the sideview mirror, I saw the car behind us take a right.

“Nope, false alarm,” he said, exhaling. “Man, my mother would’ve shit a brick if she found out about this. . . . Hey, Birdsey, reach in back and get that box of eight-tracks on the seat, will you? I don’t feel like talking. I just feel like mellowing out, listening to some tunes. Too bad they took that last joint Ralph gave us, right? I could go for a couple hits off of that thing. I’m all nervous still.”

I reached around and got the box of tapes. Put them on the seat between us. We were riding out of Three Rivers, down Route 22. I didn’t know where he was taking us. Didn’t really care. I felt more pissed than nervous.