“What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock. In the morning.”

“Amazing. You’re on the other side of the world.”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“Your dad okay?”

“Fine.”

“So how are you?” she said.

“Not so good. See, Mom,” he said, as if they were continuing a shared line of thought, “what I don’t understand is, how come they like you one minute and the next minute they don’t? What kind of B.S. is that?”

“Do you mean… Nikki?”

“No, I mean Genghis Khan.”

How could one so young sound so dour? “You sound upset.”

“She told me she really really liked me!” he burst out. “I operated on the basis of that!”

“I’m sorry, Bob.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “It’s just… see, we went to practice yesterday. All the guys in the band were there. Nikki fronts on a couple of songs, and sometimes she plays her guitar. I was doing digital recording that we might upload to the Web site she designed for them… anyway, Lars, he thinks he’s so cool. He’s like so much older than she is!”

“How old?”

“Twenty!”

Three years older than Nikki then, six years older than Bob. Oceans of time between them all.

“Well, I think you’re cool, Bob.”

“Being cool only matters if the people who think you’re cool are cool. No offense, Mom. Anyway, Lars is the drummer. He was sitting on a couch smoking a cigarette and talking about how he’s part Spanish, and somehow…”

She heard the pain in his voice and felt a little piece of her own heart chipping.

“Somehow she ended up next to him. Next thing you know, they’re kissing. I was disgusted, Mom. I mean, she went to the practice with me, you know? We were a couple. Everybody knew it even though she didn’t act like it half the time.”

Nikki must favor sofas. The image of Bob and Nikki on her sofa back in Tahoe several months before was permanently burned into Nina’s brain. Nikki, three years older, much too wise, and her fledgling son, entwined… Nina had poured herself a glass of wine, collected herself, and more or less kicked Nikki out. Which had only caused more hormones to hit the fan.

Unwisely, she went back to lecturing. “You haven’t started smoking, have you?”

“I didn’t call for this, Mom! I’m tryin’ to talk to you about something important!”

“Okay, okay, honey. All right. So. Nikki and Lars.”

“I can’t stand to go to rehearsals anymore, Mom. She’s made her choice. But I miss her. I don’t like Sweden, Mom. Nobody smiles and they all wear black and smoke all the time.”

And they’re all way too old for you, Nina thought with huge relief. “You could take some music lessons. Your dad’ll get you into a summer school. He’s the one you went to visit, Bob, and now maybe you can spend more time with him.” Bob’s father, Kurt, a classical pianist, had not known Nikki was coming to Stockholm either.

“You don’t get it. You just don’t get it.”

“Honey, what are you going to do?”

“I want her back.”

“I know you do.”

“But when I told her that, you know what she said? You won’t believe this.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me I was too young for her.”

“Well, those three years… they are big ones, Bob.”

“Anyway.” She visualized his shrug. “Screw it. I have to come home and figure things out.”

The shock waves this announcement generated made her sit back, gulping.

“Question, Mom. Where exactly is home? Am I going to Carmel or Tahoe? I need to know.”

She put him off. It wasn’t hard.

They talked for a few minutes more. Bob told her how he spent his time when he wasn’t getting into trouble with Nikki, and about Kurt’s latest performance. By the time they hung up, he sounded less miserable.

She had done her job. Bob felt better. She felt worse, so much worse. She went out to the deck and slumped across from Paul.

“Well? How’s the boy?”

“His heart’s broken.”

“Nikki dumped him?”

“Yep.”

Paul shook his head sadly. “It’s the first time, but it won’t be the last,” he said. “I hope Kurt’s up to the challenge.”

Nina thought but didn’t say, I don’t know if Kurt will get a chance.

“Women have this problem with constancy,” Paul added.

“Men have this problem with thinking women are their property,” Nina shot back.

They looked at each other. Paul’s silence rang like the end of the fifteenth round at Madison Square Garden. She hung her purse off her shoulder. “Let’s go, then,” she said.

Wait a second, it was the doorbell making that racket. No dulcet chimes for Paul’s door.

Nina smoothed down her hair and went to answer it.

She peeked through the peephole Paul had installed in his door.

“Who is it?” she said, but flung open the door when she saw who was standing outside.

“Yo, Nina,” Wish said. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

5

H E WORE BATTERED BLACK DOC MARTENS boots, Nina noted, still laced in some complicated fashion. He also wore the denim jacket and jeans the Boyz had described, but the T-shirt seemed to be missing and the pants were tattered and black. His eyes were almost swollen shut and what Nina could see of his hands, wrapped with white bandages, were red and blistered, glistening with petroleum jelly. His singed, wild hair hadn’t been combed that day. All in all, he looked like a sadhu who had tripped on the coals.

Nina embraced him. He was so skinny!

Even with this distressing getup, Nina saw that someone had washed him up and bandaged him. He was walking and talking and medicated. She drew him in and helped him take the boots off.

“I’m thirsty,” he said hoarsely. In the kitchen, Paul offered him a beer, which he refused, and a couple of Cokes, which he sucked down fast. “Sorry to cause all this trouble,” he told Paul. “I got in a situation and had to go undercover.”

Nina said, “I’m going to make you a sandwich. Peanut butter okay? Your parents have been so worried. Paul and I have been looking for you.”

“I’ve been in the hospital.”

“What? I called the hospital.”

“I went to the clinic in San Juan Bautista.” He’d driven himself thirty miles to another county.

“Why?”

“I better call my mom. Could I borrow the phone?”

The call lasted a long time, and if it was possible, when he finished the call and walked back into the living room he looked more disheveled after talking to her than before. He sat down heavily on the couch, fingers embedded in Hitchcock’s fur. Nina sat close beside him.

“Now,” Paul said, “what happened to you?”

“We’ve all been so worried,” Nina said. “I guess your mother told you the whole county is looking for you.”

“I got hurt,” Wish said, holding his hand to his throat. “The clinic put me on an IV and I slept all yesterday.”

“Your mother…” Nina started, but Wish interrupted.

“She’s pretty… worked up,” he said, wiggling a finger in his phone ear. “But I told her everything’s dandy now that I’ve hooked up with you guys. She said to tell you she’ll talk to you later,” he added, unaware of how ominous this sounded.

“Does it hurt to talk?”

“No. I know I sound funny, though. Uh, sorry, I need to make one more call. My friend, Danny… have to make sure he’s okay.”

So Sandy hadn’t told Wish about the body. “We heard about Danny from Dustin and Tustin,” Nina said. “We’ve been calling him, but we can’t get through.”

“I need to call him right now.” He got up.

“Does he live with Ben Cervantes?”

Wish said, “Yeah, his uncle. Ben’s not there either?”

“I just called again a few minutes ago. They don’t have an answering machine and there’s no answer.”

Wish sat down again and hung his head. “I’m very worried,” he said. “Paul, I was attacked and I think Danny may have been too. I have to get ahold of him. You’re gonna be mad at me about this situation, but I thought it was under control, I really did, when I told Danny I’d go along.”