BIG BEAR/CASTAIC
She’d thought she knew what strong meant. She’d thought he’d shown her already. But she had been wrong.
He got out of the bed with the help of the two canes. Charlotte and Polly helped him shower. His body was muscle and scars, red veins lacing through his skin. He got dressed. He put their last pistol in the back of his pants. He moved so slow. They put on his drugstore eye patch. They loaded up the car. Nate shambled to the car like a grandpa. He fell into the backseat, breathing hard, wet with sweat.
Polly climbed into the backseat with him. Charlotte drove down the hills once more, back toward Los Angeles.
When they got close to Castaic, the place of the meet, Charlotte pulled over at a rest stop so Nate could change his shirt. The one he had been wearing was spotted with soaks of blood. He wouldn’t let Polly look at him while he changed shirts. She turned her back to him. She looked at the reflection of him in the car window. All the cuts all over him just looked like gutters dug into him.
They’ll see how weak he is. They’ll see it and they’ll fight us and we’ll lose.
The meeting was in a truck stop diner. It wasn’t the truck stop Polly and Nate stopped at that forever ago, but it was close enough that it felt familiar to Polly.
Charlotte parked in the back.
“I’ll get the canes,” she said as she put the car in park.
“No canes,” he said. “I’m walking in.”
“I’ll help you then,” Charlotte said.
“They see you helping me, we’re all dead.”
“Jesus pete, you can’t—”
He lifted a hand like be quiet.
“They can’t know how hurt I am,” he said.
“They’ll take one look at you and know.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“So let me—”
“Polly comes with me. You stay here.”
Polly came out first. She moved around to his door. She watched him breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. He opened his eye. He stood up holding the car. Little muscles in his face twitched. He smoothed them out. He took deep breaths. His shoulders came up. His face cleared the pain. He looked as strong as he had in front of her school, a million years ago. He smiled at her and she couldn’t see anything behind the smile but strength. He tucked his pistol into the front of his pants.
“Bring the bear,” he said. “He’s good for us.”
They walked into the truck stop together. The bear dangled in Polly’s hand. Her dad rested his hand on her shoulder, not for support, but somehow the other way, like he had so much strength to spare that he could pass it on to her.
He walked into the restaurant strong and sure. Polly followed him. The sounds of the world seemed so loud to her now. Their feet, the hum of people throughout the diner talking. The world more real than real. Polly followed him to a back table where two men sat, one Hispanic and one white. brown pride on one’s bicep, white power across the other’s throat.
“You sit down first,” he whispered to her as they got closer to the table. She scooted in across from the two men. Nate scooted in next to her. She knew the cuts on his stomach must burn with the motion. He didn’t give it away.
The one with the Brown Pride tattoo started to talk. Her dad cut him off by putting his pistol on the table and covering it with the newspaper.
“The deal was no weapons,” the white one said.
“But you’ve got one anyway,” her dad said. “I’m just being upfront with you. Now let’s get down to business.”
The Brown Pride guy talked first. He said that Crazy Craig was dead. Somebody named Moonie was running things for Aryan Steel on the inside now, and that’s the way it was going to stay. Polly repeated names to herself, so she’d remember them if her dad wanted to talk about it later. Brown Pride said Aryan Steel had agreed to lift the greenlight on Nate and Polly.
Her dad nodded like good.
“Let me see the kite,” he said.
The White Power guy passed a handwritten note across the table to her dad. He glanced at it and then pushed it over to Polly.
“Read it,” he said, then turned to the other men. “My eyes ain’t quite what they used to be.”
To all the solid soldiers on the block
Or in the street
The greenlight on Nate McClusky is lifted
The greenlight on Polly McClusky is lifted
There will be no payback
There will be no retribution
On penalty of death
There will be peace
Steel Forever, Forever Steel
Moonie, president
When she was done reading, he nodded like good. He smiled big and broad. Polly wondered where he’d put his pain. Where he’d put his weakness.
“We’re going down to Mexico,” he told the men. “At least until the heat dies down. But before I go, I need you to hear one thing. Polly might come back from Mexico before I do. And if a hair gets harmed on my daughter’s head, well, then, I’ll just find my way back from Perdido. Y’all won’t see me coming. You understand what I’m saying?”
The White Power one looked at her dad like he was the monster under the bed.
“Moonie’s spread the word,” he said. His tough guy mask wasn’t very good. Polly wondered if he hadn’t been enough places yet. She figured hers was better. “The greenlight’s lifted. We’re cool.”
Her dad picked up the newspaper with the pistol under it.
“Then we’re through here. Polly.”
He touched her on the shoulder. His hand felt like he’d run it under the cold tap. She kept the shock of it off her face. They walked out of the restaurant without looking back.
On the way back to the car he threw away the newspaper into a trash can. It thunked loud. Too loud, Polly thought. They were halfway to the car before she realized what it was. He’d thrown away his gun.
He climbed into the backseat. He sat up strong. He patted the seat next to him.
“Want you on my good eye’s side,” he said.
She climbed in next to him.
“We good?” Charlotte asked.
“We good,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Polly watched the traffic behind them as Charlotte steered them back toward L.A.
“I don’t think there’s anybody,” Polly said. The bear shook his head like me either.
“I think you’re right,” he said. “I think we’re home clear.”
And before she could even agree he tilted over like a statue being pulled down.
“Daddy—”
“The glass feels good on my face is all. I need a rest.”
He reached over to her without lifting his head. He squeezed her arm.
“Will they do what they say?” she asked.
“It’s not what they said that matters. But the fear’s worth plenty. The fear on that whiteboy’s face. I just wanted to look into a face and make sure it was fear I saw. And that’s what I saw. It’s over.”
They crested the San Fernando Mountains so that the bowl of Los Angeles hung beneath them. The sun set behind it. The tall buildings of downtown were backlit with impossible colors, pinks and oranges and reds. The sky behind Los Angeles burned.
“Wow,” Polly said.
“I’ve lived all over,” Charlotte said. “You can’t beat Southern California for sunsets.”
“It’s ’cause we’re so dirty,” Polly said.
“How’s that?”
“Dirty air,” she said. “Light bouncing off the trash in the air, it splits up the light. Makes it pretty.”
“It’s a hell of a thing,” her dad said. But Polly saw his eye was closed.
As they rolled down the mountain it felt to Polly like the car fell toward L.A., coming down smooth, like how she imagined flying must go, as the dirty skies burned beautiful and faded to purple and black.
They were back from the skies and on the streets of Hollywood before she tried to wake her dad up.