“Nothing.”But that wasn’t enough, so he added, “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Why not?”An impression of movement: Jem rubbing his face.“Stupid question.I mean, did something happen?What’s wrong?”
It was a mourning dove, Tean almost said.He caught himself, but only barely.The moment was so vivid: the undersaturated colors of the calico and the broken little bird.The spark of blood on his fingers.Even the shock of the words—of almost saying them, of how they sprang into his throat, like someone else was talking out of his mouth.The way someone else seemed to be piloting his body sometimes.The way someone else lay in bed long after they’d turned out the lights, staring out at nothing.
“Nothing,” Tean said again.
Jem ran a hand through his hair.Propped an elbow on the back of the sofa.Said nothing.
“Sorry,” Tean said again.“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Jem said something under his breath that might have been “Uh huh.”But almost immediately, he followed it with “You’ve got to be exhausted.Call in sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
“You need some sleep.”
“I’m fine.”
Tean concentrated on his feet, on the feeling of the floor beneath him.Because if he didn’t, sometimes in moments like this, he felt like he’d float away.
“Tean—” Jem said.
Scipio chose that moment to yawn, loudly.The black Lab stood on the sofa, stretched—which involved putting his butt in Jem’s face—and leaped down lightly to pad over to Tean.He sniffed at Tean’s hand, and Tean curled his fingers in.
The moment still waited for him.
Giving Scipio’s ears a scruff, Tean said, “Come on.You want to go out, I bet.”
2
They called it Little Dick’s Chevrolet, but not where Mr.Tate could hear them.And it had only taken Jem a day to figure out why.
Richard Tate, Junior, went by Rick.But there was thejunior.And the fact that his daddy—Big Dick—was one of the biggest Chevy dealers in the state.And the fact that he’d set up his son with a dealership of his own.And, most importantly, the fact that Rick Tate, Junior, was a piece of shit.Anyway, it wasn’t hard to see where the name had come from.
Out on the lot, ears puffy with the cold, Jem leaned against the big, black Silverado, fiddling with his tie because otherwise he was going to rip it off.“This is the top of the line right here.Leather upholstery, wood trim, heated and cooled seats.But look, you’re buying this truck to work, right?”
The man nodded.He was one of those desk jockeys with a middle-age gut.He was sweating inside a Canada Goose puffer, with a belt buckle the size of Jem’s hand and boots that looked like they’d never touched grass, much less dirt.His wife, on the other hand, was too blond, too tan, and had inch-long fingernails studded with rhinestones.She looked like she thought she was twenty years younger.
“So, I’m going to tell you the truth: this is hands-down the best truck you can buy for work.Period.We’re talking a six-point-two liter V-eight engine with a ten-speed transmission.Add to that the integrated trailer brake, the power tailgate, and over twelve thousand pounds of towing capacity.”
“Does it have CarPlay?”the woman asked.
“You bet,” Jem said, and he shared a manly look with—was his name Ted?Todd?Tim?“And ma’am, I know some women aren’t comfortable driving a vehicle this big, but I can tell that’s not going to be an issue for you.”
She looked up from her phone long enough to laugh.
“Not only are you getting luxury and power,” Jem said, “but you’re getting safety.We’re talking driver assistance technologies like collision alert, lane assist, automatic braking.And that’s on top of all the standard safety features you’d expect from a Chevy.”
“I want you to be safe,” the woman said to Ted/Todd/Tim, as though he’d put up some kind of argument.
“I’m not going to talk you into it,” Jem said.“But this isn’t just a vehicle.This is a legacy.These things run forever.You can drive it into the ground if you want, or you can hand this off to your kids when they’re ready for it.You’re not just buying a vehicle.You’re buying a lifestyle.”
His brain snapped on at that point and told him he’d already said something similar—and was this truck a legacy or a lifestyle?
As usual, it didn’t matter.
“What about the rebate?”the man was saying.