I woke up the next morning drugged over, but called the hospital before I crept off the couch. No more Caribbean accent, this time a bored, nasal New Englander reported that Lou was better and would be moved into his room around one o’clock. No visitors until the move. None. So I placed the wire on the table, pulled out a magnifying glass, and stared thru it. I’d done my cut on a diagonal so I’d know which end was which. I could see light rust where I’d sliced but figured that was due to the old cutter. The other end had no marks but maybe, maybe a slight elongation where someone might have pulled. I just couldn’t tell.

In the dawn of a new day, Julie’s admonitions rang even louder than they had the night before. Alexis grinned at the top of my list like a whip toting temptress, but I pushed the leather out of my head and manhandled the phone.

To no avail. Calls to her home, office, and even the Hacienda went unanswered. I guessed Lauren had already gone to the hospital. Frustrating, but I could use the hours before visiting Lou for a little bottom fishing. Quiet bottom fishing. Lauren and I might have gotten friendlier, but Chief Biancho wasn’t friendly at all.

I gathered my day’s survival kit and hurried north. I hadn’t spoken to Ian since our short exchange on the telephone, and now was as good a time as any. Nor had I forgotten Stephen’s off-handed remark about the kid’s crazy stunts. But hey, I just wanted to see how the boy was doing.

When Ian finally remembered who I was he reluctantly unlatched the chain to his one-bedroom.

“Come in if you really have to,” he muttered, clad in a dirty, white gi and matching pants. This time, without the blood.

I stepped inside and walked to a Goodwill easy chair. Ian followed, dragging his feet along the way.

“Throw the ‘zines on the floor,” he grunted, unhappily offing the sound on the television.

“Thanks.” I looked around the sloppy room decorated with posters of comic book heroes, Indie bands, and various martial artists. One of the pictures might have been Bruce Lee, maybe Junior. In either case, a dead actor.

“It looks like you’re recovering nicely,” I complimented.

Ian stretched out onto the long sofa. “‘Staying alive, staying alive,’” he sang. I guess he liked John Travolta.

“That’s good to hear. Mind if I smoke?”

“I’m not the only one with a death wish.”

“The trail’s a little longer this way.”

“Might not be as pleasant. Just use the dirty plate for your cancer.”

“You mother said you were in a hurry to get back home. Lucky, huh?”

Ian looked puzzled. “Lucky?”

“The drive-by and the accident.”

“I heard about the drive-by. What else happened?”

He seemed sincere, but then, so did I. “The furnace broke a couple nights ago. Made your mother sick and almost killed my father-in-law. Lauren got him to the hospital just in time.”

Ian placed his head on the armrest. “Nah, haven’t heard shit. Good thing you don’t live up here or you’da made another hospital run.”

“Made it anyway.” Seeing him slumped on the couch with the silent television had me uneasy. Not hard to figure; full-bore passive-aggressive was a kissing cousin to my own half-bore. “Do you mind if I shut this off? I’m not big on Judge Judy.”

Ian shrugged so I reached over and pressed the power button on the remote. “So you didn’t hear anything at all about the accident?”

A scowl crossed his blank face, “I told you, man, nobody tells me anything. It’s not the same anymore.” He glanced in my direction. “No offense, but since my mother’s been doing Big Lou, I’ve been out of the loop.”

“Out of the loop?”

Ian raised his eyebrows. “Let me lay it out. There were the old, old days, then the old days, and now the new days. In the old, old days life sucked. During the old days, me and my mother talked all the time so I knew what was going down. We were like confidantes, you know. Stephen makes her nervous and Alexis makes her mad. I bum her out, but she used me to get things off her chest.”

“And the ‘new days?’”

“Call ‘em Big Lou Days,” he said, trying but failing to hide his annoyance.

“She talks to him instead of you.”

“You got it,” he pointed.

“Piss you off?”

“Sure. One day in, next day out. Something like that would piss you off too.”

“Definitely.” The question was how much, but I didn’t want to rush. I’d already blown enough conversations to kill a career. Even a store-bought career. “How about your father? Can’t you stay in contact through him?”

“Sure, if I want to hear about what kind of underachieving ingrate I am. When you’re a Brown, you can’t crowbar him out of your fucking face.” Ian snickered, “Unless you’re Stephen, but that shmuck doesn’t know a good thing when he’s got it. Always complaining about how the old man don’t think he’s alive—like Pop ought to kiss his butt or something. Shit, it’s the dying fag who has the talent.”

An equal opportunity asshole. Still, I wondered why he seemed so willing to jabber. Wondered, that is, until his sniffle registered. Then I understood his speed rap—though it took me a hard minute to squash my immediate lust for his drugs. “Your mom and dad are friends, aren’t they?”

Ian shrugged. “Dad likes to think so, but since Lou blew into town, everything is up in the air.”

“Like how?” ‘Like how?’ Like another couple of minutes and maybe I’d ask to borrow one of his karate uniforms.

“Like I’ve been telling you, my mom just doesn’t relate the same way. We used to be tight, now, shit, she threw a fucking party in the mausoleum before I even recovered.”

“I thought everyone loves the Hacienda.”

“Not me.” he said emphatically.

“Why not?”

Ian rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Tough to tell. Stephen and Alexis bitch and moan about the way they grew up. But for me, life was cool. Then all of a sudden wake up one morning and the world is upside down. Mom does a slash and burn. Pop tries to grow a dick. Everything got fucked up pretty fast. What else can I say?”

Anything I wanted him to. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut.

“Things were tough for a long time before it finally chilled. That’s when me and my mom started conversing. Now, Big Lou. Quiet time all over again. No offense, man.”

“No offense. Doesn’t sound like you have warm feelings for the Hacienda or Big Lou.”

“Whoa, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the old guy. He treats me decent. But you’re right on about the Hacienda.”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “You know, you ain’t half bad and I owe you one. Want some sugar?”

Did Shoemaker/Levy ram Jupiter? “Thanks, but I’ll pass. A little early in the day for me.” Right.

Ian rolled off the couch and pulled a mirror from underneath. The small rectangle was lined with coke. I’d interrupted brunch.

“You sure you don’t want a hit?” he asked again. “There’s plenty more where this came from.”

It was close. Close enough to feel sweat dot my forehead. But I shook my head. If I started I wouldn’t stop. But I watched intently as he took two long snorts from a cut straw.

“A wild question, Ian. Between you and me. You don’t hate the Hacienda enough to shoot the fuck out of the door, do you?”

“Shoot the door?”

“You were pissed about the party.”

Ian giggled, “Hell no, man. I’m not saying blowing up the joint hasn’t crossed my mind, but I don’t mess with guns.”

I believed him and felt grateful. “But you don’t seem too bothered by the drive-by.”

“It bothers me that Mom was in the house. Things might be different with us, but I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“I gotta tell you, Ian, a lot of nasty shit is going on over there. Maybe it’s time for your mother to get out.”

Ian nodded as if he knew what I was talking about, dropped onto the floor, and took a couple more toots. When he looked up, I regretfully shook my head. Very regretfully.

“Never happen. Mom won’t leave the Hacienda no matter what. She’s gonna die in that fucking shithole.”

“Your sister thinks she ought to sell.”

Ian laughed, “Everybody wants the fucking house. Alexis figures she can turn a quick buck, and Stephen can’t wait to move back in.”

“Wait?”

“I’m guessing the three of us will split the place when my parents die. But Stephen, man, he has a hard-on for that joint. He likes it better than he likes people.” Ian frowned. “Stephen thinks he’s better than the rest of us, but it doesn’t stop him from coming here for snow.” Ian glanced in my direction and offered a sweaty smile. “I sell drugs now and then to keep me going, but he acts like I’m a fucking cartel. Begs me for dope, then rides my ass to clean up. I call him Little Daddy Paul when he gets on my case. He hates it.” The thought made him smile.

“Your mom thinks Alexis wants her to sell the house so she can give it to your father.”

“Man, you’re up to your eyeballs in this family shit.”

“Is your mom wrong?”

Ian shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine Alexis giving anything away.”

I was ready to get out of there. Ian wasn’t behind the drive-by and he couldn’t stalk himself in a mirror. I asked whether he knew of anyone who might have a bone to pick with his mother and got stuck listening to a cocaine delusion about the possibility that some deadbeat druggie might be after him. I did have a moment of fun when, right before I left, he asked my line of work. I told him the truth but dropped the ‘private.’

Back in my car I digested Ian’s information, but all I could really do was light a cigarette with a clammy hand. His snorting had me drug hungry. It hadn’t been easy bottom fishing after all.